Annihilate Me by Christina Ross Read Free Book Online

I nodded at them as I went to the
concealed elevator just behind them.   When I did, I saw that the person who was waiting for me was Alex
himself.   He was in jeans and a
T-shirt, but otherwise was perfectly groomed and ready to start the day as soon
as he changed into his suit.   He
took me in his arms and kissed me when I walked over to him.
    “You’re
here early,” he said.
    “I’m
curious to see how well you cook.”
    “Is
that it?”
    “It
depends on how we define ‘cooking’?”
    “Breakfast.”
    “Oh,
that.”
    “Yes,
that.”
    “That’s
fine.   And maybe I came because I
wanted to spend more time with you.”
    “That
makes me happy,” he said.   And I
could tell that it did, even though there was an undercurrent I couldn’t quite
define.   He seemed distracted again,
just as he had early last night, before I came clean with him about my past and
things took a romantic turn.   I
decided to just be myself, and see how the next two hours played out,
especially considering what had happened between us the night before.   Would the chemistry still be there?   Or was all of that just in the heat of
the moment?   I hoped it wasn’t, but
what did I know?
    He
slid a card into a slot next to the elevator and we stepped inside when the
doors opened.   When they shut, the
elevator soared, and he pressed me against the rear wall.   “You look beautiful,” he said, kissing
me on the neck and then hard on the lips before he leaned me back and fingered
the length of my hair.   “And your
hair is curly.”
    “No
time for a flat iron this morning.”
    “I
like it when it’s like this.   It
reminds me of the first time we met.”
    “Why
does that seem like ages ago?”
    “It’s
only happened to me once before, but, sometimes when you meet someone, it’s as
if you’ve known that person forever.”
    Was
he referring to his wife?   Of course
he was.   I wondered what she was
like and what she had looked like.   Though I’d looked, I’d seen no photographs of her in his apartment the
night before.   Maybe they were too
much for him to look at.   Perhaps
they were gone for a reason—so he could move on with his life.   Regardless of whatever was happening
between us now, I felt terrible that he lost his wife so early.   It must have devastated him.
    The
elevator slowed, he took my hand, and we stepped out.   It was so sunny—and his apartment
was so white—that the light streaming through the surround of windows was
almost blinding.
    “How
can you stand that?” I asked.
    “Let’s
just say it’s an instant wake-up call.”
    “I
bet it works.”
    He
smiled.   “Have you ever been to
Paris?” he asked when we left the elevator.
    “So
far, I’ve gotten as far as Manhattan.”
    “Not
a bad start.   Do you like French
food?”
    “I
love it.   Along the coast in Maine,
there are a few very good French restaurants.”
    “I
miss Maine.”
    “I
don’t.”
    He
glanced at me, but said nothing.   “Do you think you’ll be taking me to any French restaurants in New
York?”
    “If
any hot new ones open up, it’ll be my pleasure.   What other kinds of food do you like?”
    “It
doesn’t matter, Jennifer.   As rare
as they seem they’re going to be, a night out with you is what matters to me.”
    He
tightened his grip on my hand, but I couldn’t help but linger on what he really
was saying.   Because of the job I
took and because of his own hectic schedule, our lives weren’t designed for us
to spend much time together.   The
undercurrent I sensed earlier was now clear.   Not being together was going to be
difficult for him, possibly because his wife, who might not have worked, had
always been available to him.   And
if I was honest, it also was going to be difficult on me.   So, where did that leave us now?   How would the reality of our situations
impact what was only a budding relationship?   At this point, everything was so
fragile, it was as if we were walking