Make Me Yours

Her face is turned toward the window, and she seems far off in thought.

“What are you thinking?” I lift her hand, studying her fingers entwined with mine.

She shakes her head, dark hair sliding around her shoulders. “It’s silly.”

I give her hand a tug. “Tell me.”

Turning to me, her eyes hold so much emotion. “I’ll never forget this.”

In that moment, I never want to let her go. Placing my lips against her fingers, I speak softly. “I’m glad I’m here to share it with you.”

The limo drops us at the Four Seasons, and I tip the driver as the bellhop collects our bags to send up to our rooms. As requested, Ruby is on the fifty-first floor, while I’m in the penthouse, one floor up.

Standing on my balcony, I grab the house phone and call her room. “Come up and see my view of Central Park.”

“You’re just showing off.” Her voice is sassy, and I don’t like us being apart.

“You might recall my original plan was to share this with you. Bring a few things in case you decide to stay.”

“How many times do I have to tell you—”

“Sorry, bad connection.”

“It’s a landline.”

“Hurry up, I’m hungry.” Thirsty, is more like it.

I grin, hanging up and thinking about the next forty-eight hours. I put her name on the guest list for this room and gave her a key so she wouldn’t have any trouble accessing my suite. Five minutes later, she’s walking through my door.

“This is amazing.” She flops on the leather divan beside the sofa facing the balcony where I stand. “It’s like a whole house up here.”

“It’s half the top floor. The other half is a separate suite.” Inspecting her hands, I frown. “You didn’t bring a bag.”

“I’m not staying in your room, Remi.”

We’ll see about that. “Are you hungry? I’ve been craving a cheeseburger all week.”

She laughs loudly. “A cheeseburger? What would Eleanor say?”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

Out on the street, we fall into the speed race of Manhattan foot traffic.

I grab her hand and keep her close. “We’re in a pretty touristy part of the city, right in Midtown.”

“Near Rockefeller Center!”

“Right.” We meander through the crowd, dodging sightseers who stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “We can head down toward the Village and see Soho after we eat. That’ll take two things off your list.”

She does a little excited skip. “Can we go to Magnolia Bakery and get cupcakes?”

“We can do as much as we have time to do.”

Traffic is a nightmare, but we manage to get all the way to Whitman’s in the East Village. A short wait, and we’re digging into two Juicy Lucys. Pimento cheese spills out, and Ruby squeals, wiping her chin.

“I can’t eat all of this.” She leans forward, and I wipe a spot of mustard off her cheek.

“Get a go box. We can eat it tonight after we meet Stephen.”