Shelly heard a knock she had been waiting for.
“Wow! Smells great,” Nick said when she opened the door.
“Eggplant Parmesan with chicken. Or are you talking about me?”
“Well, that too.” He smiled. She leaned in to accept his kiss on
the cheek. “But, how did you have the time to cook dinner?” “Well, I asked Fazio’s to send some over. I hope you don’t
mind.”
“Stay here instead of going out and avoiding the press? It’s a great idea.” Music played softly in the background. Nick cocked his head to one side. “Is that, um …”
“It’s Luther Vandross,” Shelly said. “I love his music.” “He just died a couple years ago, didn’t he?”
“Unfortunately, yes. A great singer. Diabetes, followed by complications of a stroke. He was only fifty-four. Might still be with us if he had listened to his doctor.”
“A lot of people don’t listen to their doctors,” said Nick. He accepted a plate from Shelly and headed for the table. “I’m not even in medicine and I see it all the time.” He motioned to Shelly to serve herself first, and she brushed against him as she moved forward. She sat, her face flushed. She loved the way the low light of the chandelier and candles slowly flickered from the center of the table. She raised her gaze when she felt Nick staring at her and smiled. It