Love In The Stacks: a short story/ a mini chick lit (2 page)

Dr. Reed stroked his chin. “If you’d lost
consciousness, that would mean you’ve sustained a grade three
concussion, which is pretty severe. Now, I’m going to ask you some
simple questions. Are you ready?”

I folded my hands across my lap. “I’m
ready.”

“Where do you live?”

“I live in America.”

“I need something more specific, Miss Munn,
like your address.”

“Oh.” I concentrated hard. “I-I live in
Madison, Wisconsin.”

Dr. Reed fired the next question, “Who is the
president?”

“Herman Cain.” I snorted loudly and added,
“Nine. Nine. Nine.”

Dr. Reed turned to Ben and asked, “Has she
been drinking?”

Ben gave a slight shrug. “Not that I’m aware
of.”

After asking a slew of questions, Dr. Reed
recommended a MRI to rule out internal bleeding and other serious
brain injuries.

“An MRI is always a good idea, just to rule
out other possibilities,” said Dr. Reed. “It helps give you peace
of mind. And we don’t have to do the MRI right away; we can
schedule an appointment tomorrow or next week. For now, I’d like
you to go home and take it easy, OK?”

“OK.” I nodded obediently, thankful to leave
the ER. Perhaps this Valentine’s Day could still be salvaged after
all.

Ben plumped up the cushions and I slowly
eased myself onto the sofa. “Can you please get me a drink?” I
asked, milking my injury for all it’s worth. “And a bowl of
gelato?”

Ben padded to the kitchen, fetching me a
glass of water and a tub of chocolate gelato.

“My neck hurts,” I simpered and shot Ben an
injured princess look. “Can you give me a neck rub?”

“Scooch over,” Ben commanded and flopped down
on the sofa next to me. Spooning me from behind, he massaged my
neck with long kneads and gentle strokes. “So, what would you like
to do tonight?”

“Watch a chick flick,” I said, stuffing my
face with gelato.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Roman Holiday,” I cried joyfully.

“
Ciao Bella!
” Ben gave a throaty
laugh. “That’s such an old movie.”

“It’s a classic!” I retorted. “Plus, Audrey
Hepburn is a star’s star!”

“Oh alright,” Ben relented. “Since you almost
smashed your head into smithereens tonight, I guess I’ll gird my
loins and watch a chick flick.”

Ben popped the DVD into the player and we sat
back, immersing ourselves in the beautiful world of black and
white. The chemistry between Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck was
magnetic and by the time the credits rolled, I was sniffling. “If
wish they had DVDs back in 1950’s; they could have shot an
alternate happy ending.”

“Hey. . .” Ben soothed, cupping my chin and
cradling my face between his hands. “Don’t be sad. You can have
your own happy ending . . . I haven’t given you your Valentine gift
yet.”

I sat up straighter. “Gift?

“Well, first off, how do you feel?” His
eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Does your head still hurt?”

“It still throbs a little, but I feel
fine.”

“Good! Because I couldn’t wait to give you
this . . .” Ben reached inside his pocket, produced a ring and
slipped it onto my finger.

Gazing at my princess cut engagement ring, my
breath caught in my throat. “It’s exquisite.”

“You’re exquisite,” he deadpanned.

“Liar!” I flashed a toothy grin. “My front
tooth is missing and I’ve got a bruise on my head the size of a
cantaloupe.”

He pinched my nose. “You’re still
exquisite.”

I delivered a solid punch to his arm. “You
know I would have been happy and content with just the rubber stamp
on my wrist.”

“I know.” He touched my hair; the tenderness
in his voice was overwhelming. “That’s why I love you so much.”

“So . . .” My voice pitched higher. “Would
you still like to see the surprise I had in store for you?”

Ben’s lips twisted into a quirk smile. “I’ve
already seen you in your dominatrix Wonder Woman get-up.”

“No,” I protested. “Not that!” I extended my
hand, holding up my wrist. “This!”

Ben took my little hand in his big hand,
examining the symbols that decorated my left wrist. A mixture of
emotions played across his face. “You got it inked?”

“Yep. I sure did—in Hebrew.” I beamed
beatifically. “It’s a permanent tattoo! And you better not make me
live to regret this.”

“I won’t!” His voice was confident and firm.
After a slight pause, he asked, “Why in Hebrew?”

“Well if I’d gotten the words ‘NOT FOR
CIRCULATION’ tattooed across my wrist, I’m pretty sure I’d resemble
a walking reference book.”

“Liv, you
are
my reference book.” He
cast me a meaningful look. “I’d be so lost without you.”

I shook my head, my eyes crinkling at the
sides. “OK, you can quit being a cornball now.”

Standing up, Ben scooped me into his arms and
walked toward the bedroom, carrying me over the threshold as if it
were our honeymoon night. “This marriage is a done deal in my
books.” He added, “And our story . . . our book will forever be
shelved in the non-fiction aisle.”

A bubble of laughter escaped me. “You’re such
a dork!”

“Shhhhhhhh,” Ben shushed. “No talking in the
library of
lurrrve
.”

Then he silenced me with a kiss.

The End.

If you enjoyed
Love In The Stacks
, you may
also enjoy
Confessions of a Call Center Gal: a novel,
by
Lisa Lim:

Praise for
Confessions of a Call Center
Gal
:

“
Confessions of a Call Center Gal
is a fun mix
of Bridget Jones’s Diary and The Office.” ~ Books Etc.

“Think Chelsea Handler, plus the politically
incorrect show The Office, plus chick lit. Are you already
laughing? ~ Precision Reviews

“
Confessions of a Call Center Gal
is a
chick-lit approach to the call center.” ~ The Wall Street
Journal

“The chick lit version of ‘Office Space’ for a new
generation. ~ Chick Lit Central