I leaned into it. His hand felt so warm, so secure. Oh, how I’ve missed this, missed his touch, his closeness. My knees felt weak. I gazed nervously into his piercing blue eyes. “Is it okay that I am?”
“Yes, of course.” He chuckled and looked at me like I’d just said the most ridiculous thing ever. “There’s nothing more I could want for my birthday than you.”
“Well … good. Didn’t Catherine tell you? I’m your birthday gift from her.” I arched an eyebrow as I peered up at him through my eyelashes. “We didn’t have time for a bow.”
“It’s the best gift she could’ve ever given me,” he said with such heartfelt gratitude it made my heart flutter.
I smiled in return, overwhelmed by my emotions and so happy that he still wanted me.
His face quickly turned from gratitude to self-reproach. “I was such an idiot, coming over the other day and thinking that I could make it all better and things would continue where we left off.” He shook his head, clearly upset with himself.
“I wasn’t very nice to you,” I said softly, feeling remorseful. “I’m sorry.”
“You, of all people, have nothing to be sorry for. You were more civilized to me than I deserved.” His hand moved down from my cheek, following the line of my neck to my shoulders and down my arm.
I sighed with the pure joy and gentleness of his soft touch, my body responding with goosebumps. “Your visit wasn’t a complete wash,” I said softly.
He eyed me curiously.
“There was one positive that came out of it. I realized that you still loved me.”
“I never stopped,” he assured me fervently, now holding both of my hands in his. “How could you ever think that I could ever stop loving you? I love you so much it hurts.”
“I love you, too, Ryan,” I said ardently. I could feel my emotions swelling inside me. “I was just really hurt and … scared.”
“I’m so sorry, Julia.” He was struggling to get the right words out, looking at me now with an intense expression filled with love, desire, regret, and so many things still unsaid. “Can you ever forgive me?”
I looked at him thoughtfully and then past him to Catherine, who stood in the distance, watching. Ryan followed my gaze. She was respectfully giving us privacy, but she met my eyes when I looked for her. She had a look of quiet atonement. I knew she felt her job was done tonight.
“You know, I learned something from Catherine today.” I focused my eyes back to Ryan. “Life is short and precious. We need to be with the ones we love,” I said, fervently repeating Catherine’s words. “It doesn’t matter how we got here and I don’t want to dwell on what pulled us away from each other, but we’re here because we love each other. People make mistakes, Ryan. All I know is that I love you and if I can’t find it in me to forgive you, then I’ve lost you.” My eyes started to swell with tears. “And I don’t want to lose you,” I whispered as a big teardrop escaped my eye.
Looking at me so tenderly my heart clenched, he gently brushed the tear away with his thumb. Before I knew it, his other hand was pulling me into his arms and he was kissing me. When I opened my lips for him and searched for his tongue, a little moan escaped his throat. His lips were soft and warm and tasted like wine. His tongue caressed mine with desire and want and sweet reunion . His hands roamed from my face to my hair to the nape of my neck and over my back and waist. Everyone and everything in the world around us faded away … until I became aware of catcalls and applause.
I lifted my head away from the kiss that left both of us breathless and panting. As we turned around, Ryan’s family and closest friends grinned and gave us a standing ovation. It was a good thing the room was dimly lit, because I blushed crimson. In response, Ryan took a deep bow, swinging his arm forward, while I curtsied.
When we stood back up, he placed his hand on my lower back, guiding me to towards the private dining room full of his friends and family.
“I don’t deserve you,” he chuckled in my ear.
“You’re a lucky bastard, then,” I said, looking up at him endearingly. “Happy birthday, Ryan.”
“I love you, Julia.” He smiled, revealing my two favorite dimples. “C’mon, let’s celebrate. I want to introduce you to my family.”
That night, I stopped treating my love life like it was a project plan. Projects were structured and driven by start and end dates. Things had a logical order and a reason existed for every decision. In the midst of ambiguity, for any difficult decision that would impact the outcome, a good program manager always weighed the level of risk. If the risk was too high, you turned back or shut the idea down. Faith in a decision was never acknowledged in the assessment. It was all a calculated game.