2011: It's been ten years since the sky literally came crashing down around Yael Malkah and upended her world. Now she's returned to New York to visit her ailing grandmother. With no other family, it's up to her to take care of the family business...
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Haustin approached Yael's building a little before seven, with doubt nipping at his heels. His nervousness mixed with a healthy dose of excitement, causing his knees to feel uncharacteristically weak. Each step he took towards the green awning, his pulse increased, shortening his breathing and making him wonder if he'd put enough deodorant on. At least he hadn't taken any pills. He wanted to remember every single moment of tonight, sober.
"Just don't screw up," he growled to himself. He needed to keep his mind away from those dark, damning places. It only added more unwanted pressure.
Talk about a goddamned roller coaster of emotions.
His thoughts vanished when she stepped outside. One look at her and he lost all sense of time and space. There was only Yael, black dress caressing her knees and red heels clicking on the pavement as she strode up to him. He tried to speak, but his mouth refused to work. Most of her gorgeous hair was swept on top of her head, secured by a sparkly clasp. Plus, somehow, her eyes were bigger, darker.
"Wow, you are beautiful," he managed to say once he recovered.
"Thanks." She raked her gaze over him. "You don't look too bad yourself."
He'd worn jeans and a button-down shirt because they were the nicest things he owned, besides an old, ill-fitting suit. There weren't many occasions in his life that required decent clothes. Like most other men he knew, shopping landed right up there with the plague or the proctologist.
"Nice dress."
"It was Mom's. I found it this afternoon at my grandmother's house. She has everything upstairs, all their stuff, boxed up and sitting in the dark." Yael shook her head and fingered the silky material. "Sorry. I don't mean to be a downer. I'm happy you're here."
"Don't apologize for missing your parents." He reached out and squeezed her hand. "It must have been a shock."
"Yeah. I need to go through it all, I guess, get some closure."
"I can help," he offered, though the prospect engulfed him in a cold sweat. Was he strong enough for her to lean on?
"Thanks. It's sweet of you. I'll think about it."
He shifted his feet in the ensuing silence and cleared his throat. "We have reservations at a little Italian restaurant not far from here. It's a warm night, so I thought we'd walk."
"Perfect." She linked her arm through his, making him the luckiest man in the world.
He mentally chastised himself. 'Luckiest man in the world' didn't resemble anything he'd ever said, especially about a woman he hardly knew. What the hell had gotten into him? Haustin enjoyed his reputation of being a hard, tough-talking fireman. Yet, here he was, acting like he was straight out of some romantic comedy.
"I forgot how much I love the city. L.A. is too bright, too shiny. Everyone there has an agenda, which I always considered bad enough in New York." She peeked at him through her lashes. "I've actually been considering sticking around. This is home."
