Running Back to You (The Running Series, #1) (54 page)

“J
uliette, are you sure you know how to drive a stick shift?  Please be
careful.”  Evan is worried about letting me drive his car.

“Evan, if you don’t trust me, you should have let Adam drive us home.” 
I know very well how to drive a stick shift.  We spent many weekends driving up
and down mountains all across Colorado.  “How about you just relax and let me
do this.”

As we drive home, Evan calls his mother to let her know we’re on our
way.  She warns him that there are reporters camped out in front of the house
waiting for our return.  Great.

When I get closer to the house, I can see them.  Their huge vans are
lining the street.  It’s dusk now, and I can see the crews setting up their
lights to get the “perfect shot”.  I’m relieved to see that there’s nothing
blocking our entrance, and I’m able to pull into Evan’s driveway and right up
to the front of the house. 

Evan insists on me waiting for him to open my door as we normally would. 
It’s a little awkward for him to open his own door using his left hand, but
once he’s out, he gracefully strides over to my door, opens it, and gives me
his good hand to help me step out of the car.

He closes the car door, then turns and waves to the reporters.  Their
flashes go wild!  He takes my hand and leads me into
our
home, where his
family is waiting for his return.

The moment I walk into the house, I can smell his mother’s homemade
chicken noodle soup simmering on the stove.  My mouth is watering.  I didn’t
realize how hungry I was.

Callie heads straight to her little brother and holds her arms out for a
hug.  Evan’s arm is in a sling and his hand is in a splint, but he manages to
move his injured arm out of the way so he can bring her in for a heart-felt
embrace.  “Welcome home, Evan.  Are you hungry?  Mom made soup.”

“Starving.  Thanks, Mom.”  Evan gives his mother an affectionate hug,
too.  “Smells great, as usual.”

Evan’s dad and brother-in-law welcome him home with typical male slaps on
the back and shoulders.  I watch and admire the close relationship he has with
his family.  It’s such a joy to watch them fuss and hover over him, and he
doesn’t seem to mind in the least.  It makes me so happy to see him relax and
laugh with his family.  He catches me watching him and gives me a beguiling grin that spreads across his entire
face.  I lean back on the counter and allow the joy to spread through me. 

Callie and I stand at the stove together, dishing out bowls of soup.  I
take advantage of the moment away from Evan, and whisper to her, “Did you get
it?”

She quietly replies, “I did.  It’s on the deck.  Wait until we leave,
then take him outside.  We’ll all go right after we’re done eating.”

“Thank you so much, Callie.  Evan’s done so many sweet things for me, I
thought it was time I returned the favor.”

Evan’s mom walks over to grab the grilled cheese sandwiches that are
warming in the oven.  “Juliette, there should be enough soup left over to keep
you two well fed for the next few days.  Your refrigerator is well stocked and
there are a few other homemade meals in the freezer.  Callie and I have been
cooking all day.”

I give them both a hug and thank them for everything.

Callie offers, “Please call if there’s anything you two need.  I think
it’s going to be difficult for either of you to slip out of the house for a
while.”  I suspect she’s right.

Jill makes a phenomenal chicken soup.  She promises to send me her
recipe.  The women begin cleaning up from dinner while Evan pours the men a
nightcap.  It’s getting late and after a shared meal and drink, we all say our
good nights.  Evan walks everyone to their cars so they can begin their long
drive home.

I slip away and sneak out onto the deck to check on my surprise, and I’m
pleased with Callie’s acquisition.  She was able to find exactly what I was
hoping for.

When we first started dating, Evan and I would send each other playful
texts.  I used to look forward to receiving a message from him that ended with
a wink and a smile.  I take out my phone, and send him a text.

Evan comes striding onto the deck as I lean on the railing, staring at
the waves breaking on the shore.  He comes up behind me, brushes my hair to the
side, and trails kisses from my ear down my neck.

“Hello, running girl.  I’ve missed you,” he breathes in my ear.

“Back at you, bossy man.”  I turn to face him.  He tilts my head back and
salaciously kisses me as if we haven’t seen each other in years.  I am caught
in his spell, and I momentarily forget that I called him here for a different
purpose.  But when he nibbles on my lip and our tongues play and tease, I lose
all train of thought.

I pull away just enough to speak, “I have something for you, Evan.”

He rubs up against me, “I have something for you, too, Juliette.”

“Baby, please.  I’m trying to be serious.  Look to your left.”  Evan
turns and he finally notices my gift to him.

“Juliette, I don’t understand.  You’re giving me a tree?”

“I thought about giving you flowers like you’ve done for me so many
times, but it just didn’t feel right.  So I called Callie and she helped me
select something that will last much longer than cut flowers.  See, this isn’t
just any tree, it’s a pear tree.” 

“Oh, a pear tree, huh?  Can I ask why you chose this particular tree?”
Evan asks.

“The first reason is obvious.  It originally occurred to me to give you a
pear tree because it reminded me of the bond we share as a
pair
of
people forever united and in love.”

He kisses me, “Well, you’re right about that.”

“Wait, there are other reasons why.  The more I learned about the pear
tree, the more certain I was that I wanted you to have one.  In certain parts
of Asia, the pear tree symbolizes comfort and health and I want you to have
both those things.”

“Sweetheart, I want those things for you, too.”  He looks deep into my
eyes as I speak, toying playfully with my hair.  Does he know what it does to
me when he looks at me like that?

“In dreams, pears are an erotic symbol of the sweetness of earthly
pleasures and a desire to unite. I very much like the sound of that one.”

“No arguments here, baby.” 

“But mostly, pear trees live long lives if they are taken proper care of.
If we plant it together, here at our home, it will provide us with a long and
happy life together.  Our happy ending.”  I look up at Evan, waiting
breathlessly for his reaction.

“Juliette, I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

I
t’s been over twenty-four hours since my last shower, and I have no
intention of slipping into our new bed until I’m clean.  I take a quick shower,
and then help Evan take one, too.  It’s nearly midnight when we finally climb
into our new bed.  “What do you think you’re doing?” Evan scolds me.

“What did I do?”  Evan is lying in bed beside me on his side, propping
his head up with his good arm, regarding me with disapproval.

“You honestly don’t know?” he responds.  His eyes leave mine and travel
down my body, resting on the t-shirt that I tossed on after my shower, while
shaking his head.

“Oh,” I get it.  I slip off the shirt so we can snuggle skin against
skin.  Evan rolls onto his back and stretches his arm out for me.  I nuzzle up
into his warm embrace, nibble on his ear, and curl up one leg over his.  The
scent of his clean masculine skin is heaven.  I am home.

With his good hand, he playfully twists his fingers in my hair, tugging
lightly.  I close my eyes, enjoying the way my body responds to his touch.  I
run my finger across his strong jaw, sweeping across his hungry lips, and
gently touching his cheeks as my fingers find his still damp and messy mop of
hair. 

We just lie in bed for the longest time without saying a word, just
holding, touching, and caressing.  Eventually, we fall asleep, our arms and
legs entwined in a tangled web. 

T
he week goes by quietly.  After only a day or two, the press leaves us
alone, allowing us to go about our daily lives.  We now start each day with a
beach run with Maddy and end each day curled up in bed together.  Today is
Friday and we have an appointment later to get Evan’s stitches out.  He’s been
very diligent about following doctor’s orders by doing plenty of cardio, but no
weight lifting.

We haven’t seen much of our friends lately.  While I miss them terribly,
it’s nice to have Evan all to myself.  Without all the distractions of work, we
begin to carve out a life together.

Evan and I have never spent large amounts of time together.  While I am
normally at work, I never really knew what he did with his time.  Now that I am
no longer working, I get a glimpse into what life as an NFL quarterback is like
during off-season.  Evan spends several hours a day with his nose buried in his
playbook.  I love to watch him as he sits in the living room, propping his bare
feet up on the coffee table, chewing on a pen cap, while listening to some classic
rock.  Today is an AC/DC day for Evan, and the Back in Black album is rocking
the entire house.

From time to time, Evan will take his playbook and slip into his office. 
He has conference calls to make and e-mails to return.  When he is in work
mode, he is singularly focused.  With the dedication and diligence I’ve
witnessed, it’s no wonder he’s achieved such high levels of professional
success. 

I spend most of my days baking and experimenting with recipes in Evan’s
big and beautifully appointed kitchen.  Earlier in the week, Evan insisted I
make a list of all the baking supplies I needed, and then he took me on a
shopping trip to two of my favorite stores, Sur La Table and Williams Sonoma. 

I have a few things on my list of recipes I want to master.  Top of my
list is finding perfect formulas for some gluten-free desserts.  More and more
people are adopting a gluten-free diet and there aren’t a lot of tasty dessert
options readily available.  Also on my list is to perfect the ideal Crème Brulee recipe.

But today, there’s no time for baking.  Evan and I have to be in
Manhattan by noon.  He’s seeing a specialist at New York-Presbyterian University Hospital of Columbia
and Cornell.  Because he hasn’t gotten clearance to drive yet, I get to drive
the Porsche again.  He’s not a very good passenger, and I bite my tongue more
than once as I try my best to ignore the helpful reminders to speed up, slow
down, and change lanes.

We arrive in the Upper East Side with time to spare.  It’s a good thing,
too, because finding our way through this monolithic labyrinth of unfamiliar buildings and
corridors takes us additional time we didn’t plan for. 

We spend nearly an hour in the office with Dr. Geiselman.  He is an older
man with a white ring of hair and dark rimmed glasses.  He has a kind face and
exudes confidence.  After reviewing all of Evan’s medical charts we had sent
over, he examines Evan’s incision, removes the sutures, and does some routine
flexibility, strength, and sensitivity testing.  He asks Evan a wide variety of
questions, and some of his answers surprise me.  I listen intently and discover
that Evan cannot always decipher hot from cold, has been experiencing numbness
in his fingers, and has been dropping a lot of things.  Since he hasn’t been
complaining about pain, I assumed all was well.

Dr. Geiselman tries to assure Evan that these symptoms are not unusual,
but it means that recovery might take longer than originally anticipated.  Evan
asks him to be more specific.

“Well, a conservative estimate would have you driving in six weeks,
lifting weights in about eight weeks, and resuming sporting activities in ten
weeks,” Dr. Geiselman explains.

“I have a few three-day mini camps starting on May 20th.  Will I be
cleared to practice at all with the team?”