Alyssa's Second Chance [Completed]

35-You Can Tell Me Anything

Amir's P.O.V.

This morning starts off rough. I open my eyes just a crack as the faintest trickle of light is peeking through the blinds. I'm still exhausted, but I roll over wanting to pull Alyssa into my arms for a few more minutes of sleep. Instead of finding the soft curves of her body, I find a cold, empty spot in the bed. Opening my eyes, I look around the room to locate her. She's nowhere to be found.

The previous evening had gone so well that I expected to wake up with her in my arms. I looked around the room and hoped to see her return from the bathroom, but I quickly realized that room was empty and the house was eerily quiet. The red glare of the alarm clock shows that it's barely six am, but I'm wide awake and decide to get out of bed to look for Alyssa.

Pulling on some basketball shorts, I walk down the hall opening doors and looking for any sign of a beautiful redhead. I open door after door without success. The house is huge, but about it seems like half of the rooms are completely empty. It doesn't take me long to explore every room on the upper level. I continue my search on the main floor and find Alyssa's purse in the kitchen. After checking the backyard, I am ready to admit defeat.

I have no idea where Alyssa is or why left so early. I am so pissed that she is still running from me, but there's not much that I can do about that right now. My temper is clouding my judgment. I try to think about the situation logically. I'm at her house. She'll come back eventually. Instead of calling her or starting an argument, I need to show her what she missed by leaving this morning.

I find her waffle iron and start gathering ingredients. I don't usually cook, but I make a great breakfast. I spend the next hour preparing a perfect Sunday brunch. The table is set, the syrup is warmed and champagne is chilling for mimosas. It's more of an effort than I would usually make for a woman, but Alyssa is well worth it.

I hear the door creak open and sound of quiet footsteps coming closer. I know that Alyssa has returned home and I want to confront her and find out what's wrong. Then, I look up as Alyssa cautiously enters the room. As I watch her, I lose track of everything that I am doing. I forget all about the waffle that I am making and I nearly burned myself on the iron.

I am completely focused on the thin running shorts embracing her perfect ass and tank top gently caressing her beautiful breasts. Her skin glistens with perspiration reminding me of my preferred method of helping her work up a sweat. Her face is bare and her red curls are pulled up into a ponytail, but she is the most beautiful woman in the world.

It takes all my willpower to continue making waffles instead of taking her in my arms and carrying her upstairs. I know that I need to prove to her that we can be more than just sex and that's why I stay behind the kitchen island while I will my body to settle down.

I can tell that she's nervous as she tells me that she's been out running with her friend. She tells me where she went, but she doesn't explain what drove her to leave the house instead of staying in bed this morning. Sure, I could start this morning with an argument. I might be able to push her to reveal the whole truth, but I know that I'll just push her away.

I don't want to waste the opportunity to spend a lazy Sunday morning with her. So, I wrap my arms around her and gently kiss her neck and give her the opportunity to shower while I finish breakfast.

Alyssa quickly returns and I have a delicious breakfast waiting for her. She takes her first bite of waffle and moans in pleasure. I realize that I want to spend every Sunday with her. As we make our plans for the day, I am determined to make this the best weekend of her life.

We decided to start our day at a large, historic winery Southeast of Alyssa's home. After a nice long shower together, we get dressed and make our way downstairs. With a coy smile, she grabs my hand and leads me out to the garage. Her SUV is the first thing that I see and I remember that I promised to let her drive.

She turns to me and says, "Do you like classic cars?"

The question comes out of the blue and I shrug. "What guy doesn't?"

"Then, today is your lucky day." She flips on the garage lights, leads me past her SUV and motions to two amazing cars. "Pick your poison. 1969 Chevrolet Camaro SS Convertible or 1967 Ford Mustang Fastback GT."

I walk over and touch the smooth surface of the Camaro's hood. The pristine silver paint is in stark contrast to the crisp black rally stripes. The black leather interior is impeccable.

Walking over to the Mustang, I can see my reflection in the glass-like surface of the car. The interior is period perfect with small custom touches that make it obvious that someone spent a lot of money restoring this car.

I turn to Alyssa in surprise. "They're beautiful. Do you own both cars?"

Alyssa smiles. "Not exactly. They belonged to my husband before he died. The Camaro was his first love and he spent years working on it. The Mustang was the project car that he was working on when he died. He was getting ready to sell it and move on to the next project. After he passed away, I decided to give each of my sons a car from their dad. They won't be able to drive their cars for a few more years. So, I try to drive the cars a couple of times each week to keep the engines from seizing up. So, which one is your pick for the day?"

"Seems like a nice day for a convertible. Let's take the Camaro. I'll drive." I say with a wink.

"Nice try. Today, I'll be your chauffeur. Get in the passenger seat." Alyssa jumps in the driver seat and reaches into the glovebox for garage remote. "Come on slow poke, your chariot awaits."

Settling into the buttery, soft leather seats, I can tell that no expense has been spared on this car. Alyssa turns the key in the ignition and the engine roars to life. After giving it a few minutes to warm up, she shifts the car into reverse and quickly backs out of the driveway. The power of the engine is evident even as she slowly navigates her way through her neighborhood to the main street before picking up the pace.

Then, I stop focusing on the car and I study Alyssa. Her red hair is glittering in the sunlight. Her delicate sundress caresses her curves and her ivory skin glows. Her dainty right-hand shifts the car after her sandaled foot smoothly presses in the clutch. She turns her face toward me with a smile and pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head.

"You have the goofiest grin on your face. What are you thinking about?"

"You look super sexy driving this car. Where did you learn to drive a stick?"

"I learned on this car about a week after I started dating David. I didn't realize it then, but it was an unstated declaration of his love to teach me to drive a stick in his baby."

Her eyes glitter as she continues, "My girlfriends wanted to have a girls' night out, but none of us brought a car to college. David offered to let me drive his car and then he realized that I had never driven a stick. I thought he was going to retract his offer. Instead, he drove me to an empty lot near the college and spent hours teaching me the finer points of a manual transmission. Then, he let me drive four crazy college girls all over LA in his most precious, worldly possession."

I can't help, but feel a little jealousy as Alyssa talks about her former husband. "So, he wasn't ready to tell you that he loved you, but he loaned you his car?"

"Exactly. I didn't realize what a big deal it was at the time. A few weeks later, his friend told me that I was the only person that had ever touched the keys to David's car. So, there's a lot of history connected to this car." She glances up from the road and looks at my face with her glassy eyes. She takes a deep and continues, "I'm sorry. It's probably weird to hear me talk about my husband."

I look at her face shimmering in the sunlight and think about the people that I have lost in my life. I don't talk about them often, but they played an important role in making me the man that I am today. If I want to have a future with Alyssa, I need to learn to accept that she loved her husband and she may always feel that way.

As I lean toward her and stroke her hair, I tell her what I know she needs to hear. "You shouldn't feel bad about talking someone you love. I want you to be able to tell me anything."