Finally, the elevator slid to a smooth stop. The doors opened, and I heard a few people moving around, but not too many. I heard the clattering of dishes and—happily—I caught the scent of coffee.
“Know where we are?”
“One of the clubs? A breakfast buffet?” Uncle Jahn belonged to the Metropolitan Club and had taken me and Flynn there for drinks and appetizers to celebrate Flynn’s first trip as a flight attendant.
“Not a bad guess,” he said. “But no.”
“Well, I give up.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have long to wait now.”
I’d been walking carefully, his hand on my elbow, and now he had me turn just slightly. The floor beneath us changed texture, and I heard the scrape of a chair.
“Here you go,” he said, helping me sit. He stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders. He bent over, and his breath rippled my hair as he asked, so very gently, “Are you ready?”
“I think so.” I didn’t have a clue what I was supposed to be ready for, and he clearly expected me to be astounded. For a moment I feared that my reaction would disappoint him, but the fear faded quickly. If anyone knew how to overwhelm, it was Evan. “Yes,” I said more firmly. “I’m ready.”
“Close your eyes.”
I did, effectively blocking out the tiny bits of light that had crept in under the mask. His fingers brushed my hair as he gripped the elastic and pulled the mask up and off my face. “All right,” he said softly. “Open.”
I did, and then gasped in awe and wonder. “Evan—oh my god.”
I have no memory of moving, but I must have, because now I was standing, and all of Chicago was spread out beneath and around me, and my heart was pounding because we were suspended above the city and all I could think was that there was no place more perfect that he could have brought me. “It’s the Skydeck,” I said. “You brought me to the Ledge.”
“I did,” he said, moving to stand beside me. I’d gone to the edge, and now my hands were pressed to the glass, but I wasn’t looking out, I was looking down, watching the world falling away beneath our feet as we stood in this clear box that hung from the side of the Willis Tower.
“Are you ready for breakfast?”
“What?” I asked foolishly.
He took my shoulder and gently turned me around. I saw the chair where I’d originally been sitting next to a white cloth-covered table topped with dishes and a shiny silver coffeepot.
For a moment I frowned. “Breakfast? I’ve wanted to come here for breakfast since I learned they served, but I thought it was closed on Sundays.”
“It is,” Evan said. “I arranged catering for a private party.”
“A party?” I asked, lifting a brow.
“A very small party,” he said. “Will you join me for breakfast on this lovely Sunday morning, Ms. Raine?” he asked, holding out his hand and drawing me toward him.
“Yes, Mr. Black. I’d be delighted.”
He held my chair out, and as I sat, I looked down at the city again. The world seemed to swirl around me, making me both dizzy and excited, making my heart swell and soar. But no matter what, I knew that I wouldn’t go crashing down to earth. I was safe here. Safe on this ledge, and safe with Evan.
“Thank you,” I said. “This is incredible. More than incredible, in fact. It’s perfect.”
“I told you I’d make you fly,” he said.
“Yes,” I agreed. “You did.”
Esther Martin swooped into my cubicle, her smile as wide as her eyes were sad. She crossed the small space in one stride, arms outstretched, and folded me into the kind of genuinely emotional hug that most women of Esther’s money and breeding usually eschewed.
“We’ve missed you,” she said, releasing me. “Are you doing okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I miss him. But I’m doing okay.”
“Oh, honey. We all miss him.” She stood back so that she could look me up and down. “You look good. You got some sun.”
I nodded. “I spent most of yesterday outside.” I shrugged a little. “It was nice.”
Nice, in fact, was an understatement. After a breakfast among the clouds, Evan and I spent the day like petals on the wind, soft and lazy and with no purpose other than to move and to explore the city. After breakfast on the Ledge, we’d walked from the Willis Tower all the way down the Magnificent Mile to the Oak Street Beach. I’d expected him to balk when I’d suggested it, because most people don’t share my love of simply walking around big cities, soaking up the vibe and absorbing the energy. But Evan didn’t complain, despite the fact that we walked about three miles even before our adventure truly started.
I pointed out my favorite haunts along the way, including the funky water tower. The real one, not the mall, though as far as shopping went, I fully approved of the multistoried shopping complex.
“It’s a castle in the middle of the city,” I’d said, tugging Evan to a stop and pointing at the building that had miraculously survived the Chicago Fire. I dragged him inside, ignoring his mock protests, and we stood with our hands pressed against the Plexiglas as we peered down at the tubes and equipment before going into the adjacent tourist center.
“Can I help you or answer any questions?” the clerk asked as we entered. And Evan, with a straight face, told him we were tourists with only thirty-six hours to spend in town, and we needed to figure out how to do everything.
The clerk, bless him, actually had some decent suggestions, and we left with a handful of brochures and a plan that started with bike rental from the stands that dotted the city. Then we continued on to the beach, leaving the bikes parked as we walked barefoot in the sand.