Chapter 32: Car Door

"A favor," I said.

"Yes."

"You're asking me for a favor."

"I'm asking," said Cain. "I would like it noted that I'm asking."

The harbor lights moved on the water below the terrace.

Behind us the orchestra had gone into a slow song, and nobody could see us but the ships.

"What kind of favor?" I said.

"On the ride home I'd like to hold your hand."

I waited for the rest of it.

There wasn't any.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"In the car?"

"With the door shut," he said. "No ballroom, no photographers. I would like to find out whether I still want to when nobody's watching."

I looked at his face.

It was the same grave, careful face that had read my ledger in a parked car, and it was waiting for my answer.

"Cain," I said. "That's not in the contract."

"No," he said. "It isn't."

It took me a moment to understand that he had said it on purpose.

He had thrown my line back at me, in his driest voice, and kept his face absolutely straight.

I laughed so hard I had to hold the railing.

"You've been saving that."

"Since October."

"It's perfect. I'm putting you in the ledger."

"You burned the ledger."

"I burned the old pages," I said. "I kept the book."

I took it out of my clutch, because I carry it everywhere, and the little black notebook was thin.

It had one page left that mattered.

I opened it under the terrace lamp.

Month six. C.R. held the door in the rain and did not look at me. Felt something. Filed under: do not touch.

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