Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
“Anything you want.” We’re at my door now, so I flash my card and then open it and wave her in with a little bow. She enters, I follow, and then I close the door behind me.
“Anything?” Her face is filled with skepticism.
We walk into the living room and I speak to Gregory as I look Cordelia in the eyes. “Gregory. Voice command activated.”
“Yes, Steve. How can I help you?”
As Gregory’s imperfect, but still trustworthy, voice says this, I’m still looking at Cordelia. “I would like… a bathtub filled with rose petals.”
“Yes, Steve. Do you have a color preference?”
I raise one eyebrow at Cordelia. “Your move, Miss Serendipitous.”
She huffs a little bit of air, a sign of doubt. “How about…”
“Gregory, please recognize the voice of Cynthia Lear and add her as WishMaker to the account Steve Smith.”
“Voice recognized.”
I wave a hand at Cordelia. “Proceed.”
She huffs again, this time a sign of… amusement. “OK. Gregory, I would like… rainbow-colored rose petals. A whole giant bathtub filled with rainbow-colored rose petals.”
I point at her. “That’s good. That’s really good.”
“Your wish is my command.” And Gregory dings.
“I’m not sure how long it will take him, but there’s no rush, right?” I wait, wanting to chew my nails as she considers this. Please, please, please…
“Sure. Why not. The night is young.”
“Indeed, it is. Would you like champagne?”
Cordelia’s eyes dart over to the dining room table, then back at me. “Listen, before we go any further—”
But then the door dings.
“One moment.” I go to the door, take the shiny black box from the floor attendant, tip her, and then close the door and walk back to Cordelia. “Your cortisone, I presume.” And then I present her the box.
She laughs out loud. “Oh, my God. They gift-wrapped my lotion?”
The box is wrapped so you can lift the lid off without ruining the bow or the paper. So that’s what I do. She takes the cortisone out and does a little shrug thing here that delights me to no end. “Thanks.”
“It was my pleasure.” I put the box down. “Now. What were you saying?”
“Um. Well. I was gonna say… yes, I would like a champagne.”
She wasn’t. She was going to object to something. I’m not sure what, but Gregory’s attention to detail has changed her mind.
I point to the couch. “Sit. I’ll get us a drink and we can discuss your book.”
“Oh, no! No, no, no. I mean, I’ll take the drink, but no book talk.”
I pause and turn to look at her. “No book talk?”
She shakes her head. “No. I can’t right now. I just want to…”
She stops.
I’m dying. And while I don’t want to be ‘that guy’ who finishes sentences, I can’t stop myself. “You want to relax? Forget about work?”
“Yeah.” She lets out a long breath. “It probably sounds stupid, but… the reviews, Steve. I don’t like them.”
“But it’s… me.”
She’s shaking her head. “No. I can’t.”
“Even if I loved it?”
“You loved it?” She blinks. Like this is a surprise.
“My dear, you wrote a masterpiece.”
“Stop it.”
“No. It’s your perfect book. I almost cried at the end. Well, not really. But I let out a sigh. And I don’t even read romance.”
“Oh.” She just looks at me, like a lost deer stumbling out onto a highway and getting starstruck by headlights.
“But let’s not talk about it. You’re right. No work tonight.”
She sucks in a deep breath and then slowly lets it out, shaking free from whatever reverie was coursing through her head. “OK.”
I walk over to the table, pour us each a drink, go back to the couch, hand her one, sit down next to her—not too close, but definitely not too far, either—and hold up my glass. “To… wishmakers.”
She blinks and shakes her head. “Wishmakers.” We clink glasses, take our sips, set our glasses down.
I reach for her other hand. “May I?”
She looks at my outstretched palm, then at the little tube of cortisone. For a moment I’m thinking there is no way she’s gonna let me do this.
But I must be setting her at ease, because my little Cordelia is filled with daring and courage tonight. She gives me the tube.
I slowly twist the cap off, squeeze a little bit of the lotion out onto my fingertips, then take her arm and begin to carefully massage it into her skin.
She bites her lip, both nervous and excited.
I make hooded eyelids as my hand slides up and down her arm. I do this over and over, captivating her, until there’s not a trace of lotion left to be massaged in. “Better?”
She nods, caught in my spell. I’m kinda caught up in the moment as well, because that word came out a little bit Tank.
She says, “Um… can I ask you—”
The doorbell dings.
I put up a finger. “Hold that thought.”
When I answer the door there is a small army of floor attendants pushing carts filled with rainbow-colored rose petals.