Dear Emily. Fern Michaels
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her. Plus, she didn’t have a single pair of shoes that matched the dress.
This was it, the end of the long years of studying, of sacrificing. Life was going to move forward now. Now she would be able to quit her job, get pregnant, and perhaps start school. It was her turn now. Tomorrow was going to be the first real day of her life with Ian. Tomorrow afternoon she was going to register for the fall semester.
Emily found herself smiling. Thirty-one wasn’t too late to start her education. Tomorrow morning she was going to sleep in, then go by Sassy Sallie’s and give her notice. “Thank you, God, for finally giving me this day,” she murmured.
In the bedroom, Emily slipped on a robe before she settled down to paint her toenails. She was on her pinkie when Ian arrived. He picked her up, whirled her around, and then kissed her until she thought her chest would explode from lack of air. “Tell me we aren’t still newlyweds!” he chortled.
“We’re newlyweds, we’re newlyweds,” Emily laughed. “You’re a half hour early.”
“That’s because I finally said to that old bear, today is my anniversary and my wife needs me. I wish I had done it more often. You aren’t upset with me, are you, Emily?”
“Of course not. Do you really think I counted all the missed holidays, birthdays, and the last two anniversaries? And all those weekends when you had to cover for someone. Not on your life. That’s all behind us now. We really need to talk, Ian, about the future.”
“I know. Tonight at dinner. We’re going to…guess, Emily?”
“The Chinese Garden.”
“Wrong. We are going to, wait till you hear this, Adolpho’s. I made the reservation last week. I don’t care what it costs. Hovering waiters. Champagne. For you. You deserve the best and I’m finally going to give it to you. Listen, I know it’s money you earned, but right now I don’t have a pot to piss in. That’s going to change starting tomorrow. Tell me it’s okay, honey.”
Emily stared at her husband. He hadn’t changed a bit since their wedding day. His summer blue eyes could still beguile her. She fought the urge to brush back his wheat-colored hair. He didn’t like it when she did that. He looked so incredibly handsome in his white Arrow shirt and Fabil tie. There wasn’t a trace of a line or wrinkle in his face, whereas hers had several. Her early years in the sun, she supposed. The only thing was, Ian didn’t look right to her unless he smiled. Right now, this very instant he looked chagrined, like a small boy who’d done something wrong. She and she alone could wipe the look away and replace it with a smile. So what if tonight’s dinner would be two student loan payments? Once in a while you had to do something wild and crazy, and today was her anniversary. “Why don’t we say we both deserve this night out and who cares what it costs? Promise me candlelight or I’m not going.” Emily giggled. She could get into this; she’d had many years of practice making Ian smile. He did.
Ian smacked his hands gleefully. “I’m going to shower and then we’re both going to get into our new duds and split this place. When we get back, I’m going to love you all night long. What do you think of that, Mrs. Thorn?”
“I think that’s a splendiferous idea, Dr. Thorn.” Please, God, don’t let me fall asleep, she prayed silently. Let me get through this evening in one mental piece.
“I have a better idea, let’s get a head start. C’mon, Mrs. Thorn, we haven’t done it in the shower yet.” He kissed her then until she thought her teeth would rattle. Her adrenaline kicked in. It had been over a month since they’d made love. “Do that again,” she moaned. He did, all the way into the shower and while the shower was pelting them both. The exquisite release left her buoyant. They were both giggling like children when they left the apartment.
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the restaurant.
“They give you a rose when you leave,” Ian whispered.
Emily smiled. A rose would be nice, something to remember the evening by. She’d press it into her photo album when it wilted.
Ian frowned. “Promise me you aren’t going to pick the service apart. Promise me you won’t roll your eyes if the waiter makes a mistake.”
“Only if you promise to leave a generous tip,” Emily muttered.
“Okay, it’s a deal. Forget that you’re a waitress tonight, and for God’s sake, don’t tell anyone, okay?”
The edge was off her happiness now. “Why, are you ashamed of what I do? What do you tell your friends I do, Ian?”
“I don’t tell them anything. It’s none of their business. And no, I am not ashamed. Nobody appreciates what you do more than me.”
“Appreciating it and being ashamed are two different things, Ian.”
“We’re getting off to a bad start here. Let’s back up two steps and start over. I for one still feel like a newlywed so let’s act like it. That’s an order, Emily.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily said, snapping off a smart salute.
Ian’s hand was on the doorknob when the door swung open. Ian stepped back, ushering Emily through the door as he nodded curtly to the doorman. Inside he maneuvered Emily to the secluded area where the head waiter stood discreetly with an immaculate white towel folded over his arm.
“Dr. and Mrs. Thorn,” Ian said imperiously. Emily flinched.
It was a small restaurant with only twelve tables and as many waiters hovering against the wall. One-on-one service, she thought. She knew immediately that this was the kind of restaurant where the tables did not turn over. One seating, and the dinner would take three hours, possibly longer if they dawdled over coffee and liqueurs.
Emily gave her husband a gentle nudge and whispered quietly, “Ask for the table by the wall. You don’t want to sit by the kitchen.” Ian bristled as the waiter led them to a draped table one table away from the kitchen door. Emily nudged him again. She could see Ian’s shoulders stiffen.
“This is unacceptable,” he said quietly.
That was good, Emily thought. When you said something was unacceptable, it left no room for discussion. The waiter veered to the right. Emily felt herself nod approvingly. Ian’s lips were compressed into a tight, white line when the waiter held her chair. If Ian wanted to pout, let him, she thought. If they were going to spend the kind of money she knew they were going to spend, then they deserved a good table. And if there was one thing she knew about, it was good tables.
“That really wasn’t necessary, Emily,” Ian said, smiling for the benefit of the other diners and the waiter as well.
“Yes, Ian, it was. We’re celebrating so we should get the best for our money. Or is it that it was my suggestion that’s bothering you?” She smiled sweetly to take the sting out of her words. “I guess this is the rose they give you,” she said, motioning to a single yellow rose in a bud vase.
“No, they hand it to you when you leave. I saw them in a box by the front door.” He always had to one-up her. There was no box by the front door on the little counter. She’d taken in the decor, everything, the moment they walked through the door. She let it go and nodded. “This is a lovely restaurant. I understand the food is wonderful, but incredibly rich. We’re going to gain weight, Ian.”
“I haven’t gained an ounce in seven years, Emily. You, on the other hand, are getting…love handles.”
It was true, she thought in dismay. She’d gone from a perfect size ten to an uneven size twelve. It was all the fast, greasy food she ate on the run, not to mention the sweets she was addicted to. Tomorrow she was going to go on a diet. “I know,” she said miserably. “Starting tomorrow I’m going to switch up and go on a vegetable and fruit diet.”
“Emily, Emily, you’re kidding yourself. They don’t serve fruits and vegetables in that dive you work in.”
Emily’s heart thundered in her