We’re shown to a gorgeous table tucked in a semiprivate corner. The candles flicker, catching the sparkle of crystal. Ami settles across from me.
“Hey, let me take a picture of you to send to Tristan.”
“You’ve been documenting me like a zoo animal all week.”
“For the album,” she says with a grin. “For him. For the babies. For Mom and Dad. Stop whining and smile.”
I force a polite smile. She lowers the phone. “A better one! Show some teeth. Lean forward a little. That cleavage shouldn’t go to waste.”
I smile through my heated cheeks. Click.
“You’re going to love this one,” she says. “Want to see it?”
I nod. She flips the screen toward me.
I don’t understand what I’m seeing. My brain hiccups, stutters, stalls. My mouth opens but nothing comes out.
In the photo, behind me, is Tristan.
How is that possible?
Did she photoshop it? What is happening right now?
How can Tristan stand behind me, wearing a dark suit and a heart-stopping smile, when he’s in Columbus?
“Ligaya.” Low and raspy, it’s the voice I wake up craving to hear every morning.
My body rockets out of the chair so fast, its legs scrape across the floor with a screech.
“Whoa—” Tristan surges forward, his face lit with concern, hands out like he’s afraid I’ll topple stomachfirst.
“Tristan?” My voice cracks.
Tears prickle instantly, hot and unimpeded. I clutch his arm, then his face, needing to feel him, make sure he’s real.
“I’m here.”
“You flew in for dinner?” I ask inanely, still trying to catch up to reality.
“I flew in for dinner and to stay the night. I didn’t want you to fly back alone.”
“What? Did you and Ami . . .” By the time I whirl around to glare at my sister for orchestrating this surprise, Ami’s already halfway to the door, blowing us a flying kiss. She mouthshave funand vanishes.
I shake my head, torn between giggles and tears. Tristan guides me back to my chair and sits across from me. Our hands entwine over the table.
“You look incredible, Ligaya.” He shakes his head like words won’t cut it.
My cheeks heat. “I was worried when you didn’t text me back all day.”
“I wasn’t sure I could maintain the surprise if we talked on the phone. I missed you too much.”
My sniffle barely camouflages the oncoming tears. “You’re lucky I’m not ugly-crying in the middle of this restaurant.”
“Even if you did shed tears of joy at seeing me,” he says with a glint it his eyes, “they could never be ugly.”
Sitting across from Tristan’s panty-melting smile has me grabbing the menu and fanning myself.
“Perhaps we should order dinner before you stare at me like I’m dessert,” he says playfully.
