My Immortal by Ginger Voight Page B

just the human race seems so entitled to things that are not guaranteed. It’s sad that children die, but sometimes that’s nature's way. People live long enough to fulfill their purpose and then they’re gone. The cosmic joke is we all think we have control over any of it.”
    For once, he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes focused on the wine in his glass, and he seemed to drift somewhere far away. “You speak like someone who has lost someone dear to him,” she surmised.
    His jaw clenched tightly for just a moment. “I did,” he finally admitted. “And the pain of that has stretched on for what seems like an eternity. Finally I had to come to terms with the fact that she had a purpose, she fulfilled her purpose and it was simply the choice of fate that she went. It hurt,” he added softly. “It still hurts. But that’s simply the way things are.”
    For once she saw someone else in the same light everyone viewed her – awed that someone who appeared so strong could be so vulnerable at the same time.
    This time her hand reached for his. His grateful eyes met hers. “She must have been very special.”
    “ She was the love of my life,” he stated in nothing more than a whisper, his eyes locked with hers.
    “ You were one of the lucky ones,” Adele told him. “Love is no more guaranteed than living. It’s not a right. It’s a miracle. Maybe that was her purpose. So that you’d experience what so many never do.”
    She nearly jumped when his fingers curled around hers. She’d somehow forgotten that they were touching, as though the line of where she ended and he began had started to blur. “And what about you, Adele? What is your experience?”
    She shrugged. There was no way to tell him, and strangely enough she wanted to. That had never happened to her before. “I’m not so lucky,” she finally said.
    As the night wore on they talked about everything and nothing. If she had come to get an exclusive interview on his business, she couldn’t even remember if they broached the topic at all. Instead she found herself laughing at his amusing stories of traveling throughout Europe, and he listened intently to her experiences as a small town reporter. He had wanted to know everything, and she found herself answering more questions than she had asked.
    He had asked her to dance, which she initially refused. But within moments she couldn’t even recall she was whisked away toward the dance floor and floated on air as he spun her in elegant circles. Though she had never taken a dance lesson in her life, she found herself able to follow his lead through a sophisticated waltz. She was unaware of the precise steps that she took; all she could think about was the way his strong arm wrapped around her waist and drew her soft curves close to his hard body. It was as if everything outside of the circle of his arms disappeared each time she fell into those dark eyes holding her fast in a commanding embrace.
    She couldn’t even swear there had been music at all.
    By the time the restaurant closed they still linger ed over a shared dessert and the last drops of their wine. Regretfully they both stood and much to her chagrin he insisted that she allow him to drive her home, rather than wait for a cab.
    He absolutely refused to consider that she walk like she had originally insisted.
    They sat close together in the back of his limousine. He had offered her more wine but she was already drunk enough. As they pulled up in front of her house she turned to say goodbye. Her heart lodged somewhere in her throat when she caught the way he was looking at her, his hand hovering near her head as if he wanted to run his fingers through her hair.
    “ I’m sorry,” he whispered, transfixed by the abnormal white stripe she had long come to curse since it exploded with a vengeance right along with puberty. “It’s just… your hair…”
    She nodded as she looked down. “I know. It’s weird.”
    Gently he tipped her head back up