La Vie en Rose {Life in Pink}

  “I find that hard to believe. Wouldn’t the Food and Drug Administration be all over that?”

  Rarity shrugged, sifting her gloved hands through the basin of soil and churning the muck. “I suppose it depends on where their interests lie. So long as the US government doesn’t require GMO treated foods to be labeled, we’ll never know which ones are safe and which are tainted. Plenty of other countries have laws in place.”

  “So we have to buy organic?”

  “Organic’s good—so long as it’s certified. Natural doesn’t mean shit.”

  What if the broccoli at dinner last night was poisoned? Seconds anyone?

  While her roommates had a grip on this troubling information, it was news to Emma. Somehow she felt responsible for their new attitudes toward proactive health, yet left out of the action. “I wanna help,” she announced from her chair.

  “Sorry. You’re still too fragile to play in the mud.”

  She scrunched her nose. “I don’t wanna play in the mud. Give me something else to do.”

  Rarity stood and brushed her gloves down her overalls. “Okay, grab that box filled with toilet paper rolls. I’ll show you how to cut and fold them so we can plant seeds in them. They’re biodegradable.”

  For the next hour they sat on the roof in the warm pre-spring sun and worked. Emma folded hundreds of toilet paper rolls into mini cups and Rarity hammered and sawed planks of cedar into raised vegetable beds. It was incredibly cathartic.

  “Emma?”

  She turned and grinned as Riley stepped onto the roof. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

  He bent and kissed her. “Morning.” Squinting at his sister he chuckled. “You’re filthy.”

  Rarity shrugged and continued sawing. She looked so beautiful in her dusty overalls with a bandana wrapped around her head. “You’re so pretty, Rare.”

  Her friend stilled and smiled at her. “Not half as pretty as you, toots.”

  She wished that were true.

  Riley held out a hand to her. “I’m going to take Marla for a walk. Come with me. The exercise will do you good.”

  They thought they were slick, sneaking in little regimented walks here and there in between her coconut rub downs and organic shakes. Smirking at his head silhouetted against the sun, warmth filled her. His hair was growing back. “I love you.”

  “Love you too. Come on. Marla’s pacing.”

  Though she still wasn’t herself, she was feeling better than she had in months. Her tubes were gone and the incisions were healing nicely according to her surgeon.

  She’d gotten her first injection in her expanders and other than random bouts of weakness that struck out of nowhere, she felt wonderful. Still, the minor set backs were buried by an overwhelming gratitude to be alive—something she hoped never faded.

  “The sun will be setting soon, so I put your coat in the bag.”

  So thoughtful. She carefully laced her sneakers and covered her head—which got cold—with her monkey hat. Yes, it was now hers.

  “Marla!” The dog came bounding out of Rarity’s bedroom the second she called and she gave her a bumpy cuddle.

  “Watch she doesn’t get too rough,” Riley warned and she tried not to get frustrated with his concern. He was right. She was still recovering. He took the leash and tossed the bag over his shoulder. “Ready?”

  “Yeah.” This felt semi-normal, like the things they used to do.

  They walked for a long time and her legs were getting tired, but the beautiful day was easing into such a lovely dusk she didn’t want to go home just yet. As twilight approached, Riley stopped and handed her his jacket, which she gratefully accepted. It wasn’t spring just yet.

  “Look,” he said, pointing as a young woman leisurely strummed a guitar over an empty case on the sidewalk. They walked closer as she crooned and played.

  “I know this song,” Emma said, grinning as a trumpeter joined from several paces away, startling her.

  “La Vie en Rose,” he said, as the girl hummed with the trumpet. He grinned. “Dance with me?”

  She laughed and looked down at Marla, who was getting a good sniff of the woman’s guitar case. “What about Marla?”

  He looked around and held up a finger. Walking to a nearby bench he said something to an older woman sitting alone and pointed back at Emma. Her face heated as the woman waved and took Marla’s leash. Riley returned. “We have a dog sitter.”

  His hand caught hers and he pulled her close, his arm wrapping around her back as they swayed on the corner of Fifth Ave. Her heart leapt as the girl sung of angels and love songs bringing magic to ordinary life.

  What a beautiful song. She’d always enjoyed the French version, but this was the first time she’d ever heard the lyrics in English. They fit. A love story in a world of pink. La Vie en Rose.

  The song ended too soon and Emma wished the moment could have lasted forever. Riley nodded and dropped several dollars in the musician’s case. Then thanked her for playing and went to collect Marla.

  The woman holding the leash smiled, her teeth white against her dark skin. “A rose for your love?” she passed him a long stem pink rose.

  “For you,” he said, presenting her with the gift.

  Like the song said, it was a magic spell he’d cast. Her cheeks stretched with a smile as she sniffed the rose. “Thank you.”

  “Look.” He pointed, just beyond her shoulder and she turned.

  The Empire State Building. “We still need to visit that. It’s on my list.”

  “Let’s go now.”

  She drew back. “We can’t. We have Marla.”

  He waved away her words. “If anyone asks we’ll say she’s a service dog. She might as well be. Trust me, we’ll be fine. You’re wearing a monkey hat for crying out loud. No one’s going to stop us.”

  He seemed determined so she followed, but knew in five minutes they were going to get thrown out of the Empire State Building. She tsked. And on her first visit.

  As they entered the complex her eyes went wide. Glittering gold polished tile climbed the walls in an art deco masterpiece. It was like traveling back in time. Some people were dressed in jeans and some in suits. None were wearing monkey hats.

  As Marla’s nails ticked along the shiny floor she became self-conscious. “Maybe we should leave,” she whispered.

  “Relax.” He approached a counter and passed the man his credit card. “Two passes for the main deck. We have a service dog with us today.”

  “Yes, sir.” The man swiped the card and passed two tickets to Riley. “Enjoy.”

  He grinned and nudged her toward the bay of elevators where an usher waited. “Told ya.”

  Even the elevators were luxurious, though crowded. When the doors closed she giggled and he glanced at her. “What?”

  She smirked and whispered, “I wanna push all the buttons like Buddy the Elf.”

  He chuckled as a man to her right gave a panicked look. “Please don’t.”

  “Fine.” She sighed.

  Marla paced uneasily in the cramped space. “She’s nervous.”

  He patted the dog’s side and she settled. “Her ears probably feel the elevation. Do you feel it?”

  “Sort of.”

  “It’s gonna be a lot colder up here. You should button up.”

  Good idea. She tightened her coat and returned her attention to the climbing numbers. “Takes a while to go up eighty-six floors.”

  “It’ll be worth it. Almost there.”

  They watched the numbers rise as the cart climbed. Finally it slowed and the doors opened. The passengers shuffled out and Marla seemed relieved to be out of the stuffy, traveling box. Emma nodded politely at the suited man positioned at the entrance of the observation deck.

  “My ears feel the altitude now.”

  “What?” he yelled and laughed. “Just kidding.”

  She hadn’t expected it to be this crowded. Multiple people shuffled their way toward the elevators, but just as quickly more
people arrived. She held onto his arm as they carefully maneuvered through the mob. “I feel like Meg Ryan.”

  “Really? I was thinking King Kong.”

  She laughed as the wind cut through her clothing.

  “There’s an opening.” He pointed to a corner where a couple stepped away from the glass and strolled on. She followed him and the closer they got to the edge the more sensitive her feet got.

  Her breath caught in her throat as she looked over the edge. “Wow.”

  Riley stepped behind her, his front pressing to her back, his chin resting on her shoulder as he hunched around her. “Amazing, right?”

  It was indescribable. “Definitely.”

  His lips curled into a smile against her neck. “So you can check two things off your bucket list tonight.”

  “Two?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” His arms released her, taking Marla’s leash and he whispered, “Turn around.”

  Slowly, she pivoted and gasped when she spotted her mom and dad and then Rarity. She really needed to start paying more attention. “What are you guys doing here?”

  Riley passed his sister Marla’s leash and dropped to his knee.

  Oh, my God.

  He smiled and produced a small velvet box. “I figured we’d go traditional. Will you make an honest man out of me, Em? I’m a soiled dove and you’re my only hope. I love you. Wear my ring and say you’ll marry me.”

  “You jerk,” she laughed as tears sprung to her eyes. “I thought we were just going for a walk.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  Was he an idiot? “Of course that’s a yes!”

  Strangers smiled and clapped, as did her family.

  He stood, his arms wrapping tight around her as he kissed her deeply, his hand cupping the back of her neck and pulling her hat clean off her head. They hadn’t kissed like that in ages. The return of his lips to hers broke and healed so many parts at once.

  She held his face and kissed him with all the passion she possessed. “I love you so much, Riley Morgan Lockhart.”

  “I love you too, Emma Ma’gotes Hobbit toes Sanders gonna be Lockhart.” His forehead pressed to hers pulling her hand into his. “Lem’me put a ring on it.”

  Cool metal slid over her finger and she looked down, her jaw unhinging as the diamond glinted brightly in the evening lights. “Oh, Riley...it’s beautiful.”

  They turned and their family cheered again, rushing at them in a group hug and attracting the attention of more strangers sharing the deck. People pointed and awed and she wanted so desperately to see what they saw—the beautiful man asking the bald, breastless woman to be his wife. Love.

  “Smile,” Rarity called and the Polaroid flashed. That one was getting its own page in the album for sure.

  The incredible night concluded with dinner. Rarity returned Marla home and met them at the restaurant with Lexi. Emma had her first drink in months and everything played out like a majestic dream—until the cab ride home.

  The closer they came to the loft the harder her heart beat. Her gaze returned to the beautiful ring on her finger and her happy fiancé by her side. All signs pointed to perfect—until she looked down.

  Rarity went home with Lexi so the loft was empty. They were officially engaged. What couple got engaged and didn’t celebrate with sex? The more she considered the norm, the more pressure she felt and her joy shifted into extreme anxiety.

  Her heart wanted to make love to her future husband. She wanted to touch him and look into his eyes and feel his arms around her the way she used to, but now... her body was so detached. Should she do it anyway—for him? For both of them? Maybe just dive in? But what if it hurt—not physically, but emotionally? Too many changes at once. Why hadn’t she had more wine with dinner?

  “You okay?”

  His question startled her. “Yeah. Fine.”

  His fingers laced with hers and squeezed.

  She’d keep her shirt on. There. One decision made. There would be plenty of chances to take the shirt off, but for now it was staying on. And the lights were going to have to be off. Darkness was safer. But what if he inadvertently bumped her? They’d been so careful as her fragile body healed. Not only had he been treating her like glass, she still felt breakable.

  God, this is just too much pressure. Who can think about sex with all this other crap to worry about?

  The cab arrived at the loft and they took the elevator in silence. Marla greeted them when they entered the dark apartment and Riley grabbed her leash. “I’m going to take her down for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time.” Her voice was remarkably calm compared to what was going on inside her head.

  He left and she rotated in a slow circle. Glancing down she shut her eyes and groaned. “I can’t do this.”

  She walked to her bedroom, and rummaged through her lingerie drawer. Everything was too big and too sexy for her scraggy, flat chested figure. Hate and anger built into such frustration. She’d promised not to do this to herself.

  Throwing the lingerie back in the drawer, she slammed it tight and grumbled, “You’re alive. Who cares about this stuff?” But nothing penetrated the pain and sense of absolute inadequacy suffocating her. Opening the drawer again, she removed her smallest teddy, but couldn’t bring herself to look at it.

  Dropping to the mattress, she curled on her side and quietly wept. What if she never felt sexy again?

  “Em?”

  Startled, she brushed at her eyes, not expecting him home so quickly. Maybe if she were quiet he’d think she fell asl—

  “What are you doing?”

  Shaking her head, she sat up. “Nothing.”

  “Hey.” He walked to the bed. Marla followed, giving her a wet snuffle, but she wasn’t in the mood. “I thought we’d watch a movie.”

  She laughed, the sound hollow. Of course he’d think that. He probably didn’t want to have sex with her anyway. “Okay.”

  He sat beside her. “Are you upset?”

  “No.” She was the worst liar.

  Slowly, he extricated the crumpled piece of lace from her fist. “What are you doing with this?”

  “Using it as a tissue.” That was the truth. Might as well throw all those things away.

  He frowned. “Are—are we having sex?”

  Shutting her eyes, she shook her head. “I tried, but I can’t.”

  “Hey, we don’t have to rush into anything. Cakes, you’re still getting back on your feet. Don’t work yourself up like this. I’m fine. I promise.”

  She wiped her nose and stared at him through bleary eyes. “It’s so frustrating. I want to be with you, but I hate my body.”

  “Hey, no judging until it’s fully healed. That’s the rule, remember? You have a ways to go still.”

  She flopped back on the bed. “I don’t feel my breasts, Riley. They’re numb, because there’s nothing real there.”

  He gently lay beside her, his face only a few inches from hers. His hand slowly came to rest high on her chest where her muscle retained some sensitivity. “But your heart’s here. Do you feel that?”

  She sniffled and he took her hand, pressing it into his shirt, over his heart. “When we kiss, my heart races. Feel.”

  His lips traced hers and her stomach tightened. The vacant sense of nothingness where her breasts used to be overwhelmed her, and she was about to pull away. But his heart pounded under her palm and she smiled, a breathless laugh falling from her lips to his.

  His hand slid to her neck. “Being with you was more than boobs, Em. It’s closeness. The feel of my body against yours. The weight of your fingers on my skin. The look in your eyes. The kiss of your lips. The tightness of your touch. The scent of your skin. The sound of your voice. It’s so much more than just sex.”

  Her breath shook. “I wish I was prettier for you.”

  His head shook as disappointment flashed in his eyes. “Listen to me, Emma. You are the prettiest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. You’re so afrai
d I’m going to see you and get grossed out. Well, I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you puking your guts out. I’ve seen you covered in bald patches. I’ve seen you go to the bathroom. But when we make love that’s not what I see.”

  She wiped her eyes, the reminder of all those undignified moments stabbing deep. “But that’s all I can see.”

  His eyes studied her for a long moment and he stood. He shut the door and removed her robe from the back. The sash slowly pulled through the loops as he rehung the robe. “Let’s try something.”

  Her stomach knotted with excuses, but she kept them inside as her world went dark and the sash covered her eyes.

  “Can you see?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Try to relax. Just feel, Emma. If you want me to stop say stop and I will. This is just an experiment.”

  Protests rang in her head, but she humored him, truly wanting to get over this metaphorical hump. Blowing out a breath, she nodded. “Okay.”

  “Good.”

  His fingers trailed over her face and she grinned. Like soft flower petals they traced her nose and the raised shape of her lips. His feather light touch skated along her chin, around her ear, and down her throat. She sighed as the tension in her jaw gradually released beneath his tickling touch.

  His mouth pressed to hers and she sucked in a breath. He merely rested his lips over hers. The firm pressure was nice. His nose nestled with hers as he shifted. Her shoulder tensed and she winced as she braced for his weight, but it never came.

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  Fabric rasped and his hand gradually lifted hers. Warm lips pressed to the backs of her fingers, the soft side of her wrist. His lips brushed the skin over her pulse and her toes curled, her insides pulling at the sensual kiss.

  He’d never kissed her wrist like that before. The delicate patch of skin was incredibly vulnerable and soft. She really liked his mouth there. He lifted her other hand and did the same as the knot in her belly loosened and tightened in a different way.

  Her heart, as he said it would, raced. Gradually, her free hand glided up his arm and, as if drawn there by some unforeseen force, her fingers traced their way to his nipple. Recognition and safe familiarity blanketed her as the tip of her finger deliberately treaded over the tiny nub. Strangely, touching his nipples awakened something inside of her—a sort of mirror play she couldn’t explain.