“Did you?”
I shake my head. “No. It backfired. I’ve always wanted to be the furthest thing from a lady that I could. But anyway, the school was mostly for Americans—though I was never quite able to completely shake off the accent—”
“You shouldn’t be ashamed of it,” says Rory. “You speak multiple languages, and it’s easy to understand you. Not to mention, it’s very sexy.”
“It is?” I ask, my cheek heating up. He nods. “Rory? Are you trying to avoid going to my place? If you didn’t want to—”
“No,” he says and grabs my hand in his. “I just want to make sure that when we are together, we are both completely sober.”
“Oh,” I say, unsure how to respond to that. “I’m sober.” I’ll admit the food helped, and I’m starting to realize nothing Rory does is by accident.
He smiles. “Good. But I also do want you to see a little of this city before you leave—one last stop. I promise, then we’ll head back to your place. No way in hell I’m backing out.”
We get to the last stop of my tour at nearly one in the morning. Our driver warns us we are probably not allowed at the park this late, but I let Rory lead the way. I smile when he insists on opening my door. Men like this just don’t exist anymore. Or so I thought.
“This is Liberty Memorial. The building is a World War I museum, and that is the Liberty Memorial Tower.” He points to an obnoxious structure.
We walk through the park toward the tower, and I compress my lips together.
“What?” asks Rory.
My shoulders shake with my suppressed laugh. I can’t hold the laughter any longer, so I let it out. “Sorry, it’s just . . .”
“Spit it out, Almonte.”
“The tower. Isn’t it a bit . . .” I trail off and point to the tower because he has to see it. How could he not see it?
Rory cocks his head to the side as he studies the tower. His face scrunches up, and he scratches his head. “What? What are you saying?”
“It’s ratherphallic. Don’t you think?”
He tosses his head back with laughter and then nudges my arm. “You are a one-track-mind kind of gal, aren’t you?”
“Sure you don’t want to just go straight to my apartment?” I ask and wiggle my eyebrows.
Rory shakes his head and takes my hand in his. Our fingers lace together, and I stare at our hands where we join as we walk. I blink. I’ve never held hands with a man before, and the intimacy of it has me regretting that I’ve selected Rory for this job. He needed some sort of ‘date’ before he could go to bed with me. He is boyfriend material, and I am not girlfriend material. This is such a bad idea. But his hand is warm and inviting, and the gesture brings us closer together so I can take his scent in again like I had at the bar. It’s a mix of sandalwood and suede and so refreshing mixed with the park’s cut grass.
We walk to the edge of the building until we come to a short wall where I rest my elbows on the ledge and look down at a Kansas City starting to come alive with nightlife. The lazy pulse of light traffic in the veins of the city streets flows below us. It’s dark, and the lights are bright. Straight ahead, a beautiful building that reminds me of the Met in New York displays fountains on its front lawn.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing at the building.
“That’s Union Station,” he says.
“Like an actual train station?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say dreamily. Would I ever get the chance to ride a train? I was so dedicated to my sport, I barely experienced life at all. You always think there is more time,later—to do all the things you ever dreamed of. But time is not a guarantee, and it is not owed to anyone. Too bad I learned this lesson at the expense of my life.
You are not dead yet, Valentina, I remind myself. There’s still a chance.
“The inside is great too,” Rory says, oblivious in the dark to the prickling tears in my eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. There’s a coffee shop and a restaurant. They have all sorts of science exhibits. Maybe you’ll let me take you on a date? We can go there. This weekend? Are you free?”
This weekend I’ll be puking my guts out. “Rory, I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. I—”