Chapter 2

Sometimes, Wishes DO Come True

The television was still on, but Bobby hadn't paid any attention to the screen for over an hour. He'd been trying to review his notes in the Reynolds case in order to prepare for the next day's meeting with the witness, but his mind –then his fingers—kept drifting back to the most important pages in his portfolio: the ones containing Alex's notes back to him. Her written profession of her love.

He had read and re-read her words time and time again. He had a change of heart. What had earlier seemed would be an amusing practical joke, now only seemed a cruel thing to do to her.

He sat on the sofa, staring at the handwriting on the pages in front of him, and thought, "I can't pretend I didn't see her notes. I've been waiting to hear those words from her for so long –and at least she had the courage to say them. If it were up to me, she'd have never seen my notes –not because I don't want her to know how I feel about her, but because I didn't have the nerve to let her know – too afraid she'd laugh at me – reject me."

He picked up the heavy binder and checked the clock on the VCR: 7:48 p.m. Alex would still be at the salon getting her hair done –of that he was sure. She'd often complained about sitting in the stylist's chair for over 2 hours for her cut and highlighting –how hungry she was by the time she finally got out of there, after having gone without dinner—and how her butt hurt after sitting so long. The thought made him smile as he imagined that cute, shapely little butt.

"No," Bobby said, returning to his thoughts, "There's no way I'm gonna tease or torment her –not after she's laid her heart on the line for me." He smiled. "That's my little Alex. It figures she'd be brave enough to actually do it…communicate her feelings…unlike me, who keeps everything bottled up – 'cause I'm a coward…"

Although totally absorbed in his own thoughts and feelings –and fears—about how to handle this new development –a definite change in the dynamic of their relationship, Bobby suddenly found himself wondering about what Alex must be going through at this very second. "Is she nervous? Excited? Scared? She's gotta be wondering how I reacted when I saw what she'd written."

He went to the kitchen and grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge. He stood by the counter as he gulped from the can and when his eyes spotted the deli bag still on the countertop, he couldn't help but smile as he thought about the way she always takes care of him. "She even brought me dinner, to make sure I ate something –and brought my portfolio, 'cause she knew I would see what she'd written –she wanted me to know."

He tossed the empty can in the recycle bin and checked the time on the microwave's clock: 8:05 p.m. He knew what he wanted to do –what he had to do. He headed for the bathroom to shave and shower. He had time to clean himself up, pick up something for Alex to eat, and make it to her apartment by the time she'd get home from her hair appointment.


Bobby nervously paced around Alex's living room. He tried to busy himself, looking at her display of various family photos, her CD collection –a magazine she'd left laying on the coffee table.

He was dressed in a perfectly fitting pair of dark jeans, with a light blue denim shirt –open at the collar, with sleeves rolled up, (as referred to in Alex's note), purposely flaunting his muscular, sinewy forearms. He had lightly splashed his jaw line with the cologne that Alex loved –Vintage Gruen, imported from France. He wore it only on special occasions because the fragrance had been discontinued so, once his supply was gone, it would be gone forever.

Bobby had set a place for her at the small dinette, complete with wineglass; a red candle was lit, casting shadows and a flickering, warm glow around the room. A crystal bud vase, holding a single red rose, was in front of her place setting. Her dinner was keeping warm in the oven and, after putting Alex's favorite CD in the player, he went to the kitchen to check that her food wasn't getting overcooked.

He was prepared. Or at least he thought he was –until he heard her keys jingling against the lock. His heart began to pound in his chest.


As she inserted the key into the lock, something at her feet caught her eye. She stared at the floor, to make sure she was seeing correctly: light was emanating from inside her apartment, shining under the door.

"I know I didn't leave any lights on when I left for work this morning," she thought to herself.

Her initial thought was that she was being robbed and was about to walk in on a burglar. As she reached into her purse for her off-duty piece, the next sound caught her off guard. "That's my stereo –my Ute Lemper "Crimes of the Heart" CD is playing," she whispered.

She smiled as she surmised "It's Bobby." Taking a deep breath to steel herself for the confrontation, she slowly turned the key and, with trepidation, opened the door.

Upon entering the small foyer, she looked towards the living room. It was empty. Then, she noticed the flickering of the candlelight coming from the dining room. She walked towards the dinette/kitchen area and saw Bobby – looking fantastic, she couldn't help but notice—standing by her oven.

"Bobby! What are you doing here?"

He smiled, "I just came for the friendly greeting," sarcastically teasing her with the words she had used on him earlier that evening.

She walked towards the kitchen and smiled. "Music? Candle light?

He waved his index finger towards her –his hand nervously wagging, as was his habit. "Your h-hair…you look b-beautiful."

Alex approached even closer. "Thank you," she smiled, as her fingers nervously tugged at a few blonde strands. (She had been so shocked to find him in her apartment, she had momentarily forgotten about even having had her hair done).

"And dinner, too?" she smiled, as she watched him open the oven and carefully remove her dinner plate.

It definitely smelled like an Italian meal, but she couldn't tell what it was –not under the sauce and gooey melted mozzarella.

"Eggplant parmigianna," Bobby answered and smiled, adding "with salad and garlic bread."

"You remembered?"

He nodded and let out a small chuckle.

She knew why he was laughing—making fun of her new vegetarian selection. "I can't help it, Bobby. Ever since I saw that special on TV about how they treat those poor little calves…I just can't eat veal anymore."

He smiled as he walked by her, bringing her plate to the table and pouring her a glass of wine. He was so accustomed to working with tough, scrappy little Alex; it touched him to see the softer, womanly side of her personality.

She followed him back to the dining room and stood alongside her chair. "A rose, too?"

He held her chair as she seated herself. "What's this all about?" she asked, as if innocent.

Bobby's brow furrowed and he gave her an admonishing look as he took the seat next to her at the table.

Alex picked up her fork and poked at her eggplant.

"You know what this is all about. You started it."

"I started it?" she responded, wide-eyed with surprised indignation.

"Yes. You," he responded with conviction.

She sat quietly, waiting for him to explain himself further, but no such explanation would be forthcoming. It was one of his usual tactics. He had firmly placed the ball in her court –it was her turn to explain. He sat, just watching her, waiting for her to speak.

"Are you angry? You know…'cause I looked in your notebook," she asked timidly.


Again, she waited for him to add something more. Silence.

"Are you angry…because of what I wrote in your notebook?"

Bobby broke out in a smile, entirely lighting up his face. He shook his head, 'no.' "If anything, I should be angry with myself for not having the courage to tell you all those things I wrote."

Alex relaxed and smiled – and took a large gulp from her wineglass.

Bobby nervously fidgeted in his seat. "I've wanted to hear those words from you for –a long time." He paused and swallowed, hard. "Is –is everything really true? All those things you wrote back to me."

She smiled and laid a reassuring hand on top of his. "It's all true. All that and more." She gazed at his face, into his eyes.

Alex continued eating, smiling at Bobby and remarking from time to time about how delicious her dinner was.

"So? What are we going to do about….this?" Bobby asked, then quickly averted his eyes –almost as if he were afraid of her answer.

"What do you want to do?" she asked back, putting the ball in his court, just to get even.

He didn't know how to answer. His years' of suppressing and not verbalizing his feelings was not easy to overcome.

Alex saw the look of mild panic that had crossed his face and instantly felt bad. She decided to let him off the hook.

She again touched his hand and smiled. "You really wanna know what I want to do?"

He nodded immediately, 'yes.'

"I want to make all your wishes come true," she said, again gazing into his big brown eyes.

She watched him smile – and watched his muscular chest rise and fall as he breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"All…all of 'em?" he asked, just to make sure he understood her correctly.

"Mmm-hmmm," Alex answered, now wearing a devilish grin.

She gently slid her hand over his, then stroked the length of his fingers, lingering on his middle finger, as if to transmit a subliminal message of her intentions for the remainder of the evening.

Bobby felt his pulse quicken as he reveled in the touch of her skin against his. He remembered back to the entry in his notebook –the one about how he wished his fingers could caress her curves –and her response, "I hope your fingers get their wish –AND SOON!"

Her touch, combined with the thought of that particular entry in his book and the pleasure such exploration would bring, prompted an entirely new reaction in his body –one from below his waist.

He, himself, now bore a devilish and hopeful grin. "Even my fingers' wish?" he teased.

She leaned closer to him, her face just inches from his. Her eyes were no longer twinkling with mischief. Now, they were beginning to smolder with desire. "Especially your fingers' wish," she whispered.

She kissed him, gently at first, but his reciprocity aroused a stronger, deeper response from her. They hungrily explored each other's lips and tongues –until neither of them could resist. Both of them instantly knew that this would be the night they would finally give in to their mutual yearning.

When their kiss ended, they stared into one another's eyes.

Alex smiled. "You smell absolutely delicious," she said softly, then leaned closer to his jaw and inhaled, while she placed teasing, nipping kisses on his smooth skin. "Positively good enough to eat."

He noticed that the devilish gleam had returned to her eyes.

As she looked at his face, she noticed his eyes had darted down to the dirty dishes on the table. His eyebrows raised. She knew his expressions well –his look was silently asking if they should clear the table and wash the dishes.

"They can wait," she said, tossing her head towards the dirty plates on the table. "I can't."

She grabbed his hand and stood –then led him to the bedroom.