Emily drove home to her apartment. The ride was long and lonely. She walked inside and flopped down on the couch, tears streaming down her face. She didn't know what was worse, that Michael had lied to her or that she walked away from him. She loved him but she felt that she didn’t know Micky. She knew Michael; at least she thought she did.
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Micky took a cab to his hotel and checked in. As soon as he set down his suitcase, he picked up the phone and called her. He knew there was a possibility that this would happen but he was not ready to give up on her.
The phone rang four times until the answering machine picked up. He took a deep breath and waited for the beep. “Emily, if you’re there, please pick up.” He listened to the silence. “We need to talk about this. I am so sorry if I hurt you. Please call me. I’m staying at the Chicago Hilton, room 515.”
Emily stood there staring at the phone listening to him. She wanted to pick it up, but she didn’t, she couldn’t.
It rang again an hour later and again she let the machine pick it up. “Em, please pick up the phone. I can’t stand this.” She could hear the catch in his voice. “You have every right to be angry with me, but please, at least, talk to me.”
“Hello…” She picked up the phone, her voice was very cool.
”Can I come over? We need to talk.” He replied softly.
There was a knock on the door. “Hang on, someone is at the door.”
She set the phone down and opened the door. A huge bouquet of flowers and Micky holding his cell phone greeted her. “Hi…”
She left the door open and walked back to the phone to hang it up. “What do you want?”
"You." He stated very matter-of-factly walking in and handing her the flowers. "And I'm not leaving until you forgive me."
"I can't believe this is happening." Emily mumbled to herself. She looked up at him. "Fine, I forgive you, now get out."
Micky shook his head. "There is something I have to do first." He reached up and gently tugged on the red ribbon still in her hair letting it flow down over her shoulders. Their eyes locked as he gently traced the outline of her face with his fingertips. He leaned over and barely touched her lips with his own. "I've been wanting to do that since I stepped off the plane." He whispered, kissing her softly. "Do you still want me to leave?"
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Continue to Part 5
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