Claire awoke to the sensation of their plane decelerating on a runway. She’d been somewhere in a dream as her body lay upon the leather sofa wrapped in the soft cocoon of a luxurious blanket. The sudden increased roar of engines combined with the screech of brakes transported her to the present. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep or if they’d reached their mysterious honeymoon destination. But she remembered the excitement in Tony’s eyes as he talked about their romantic journey. Willingly, she continued to allow herself to be taken to places unknown.
Looking down at her left hand, she saw the familiar engagement ring now with its new mate. Her wedding band glistened with embedded diamonds that matched the circle around the large solitaire. They were truly beautiful. Pondering the past nine months, it boggled her mind that she was wearing such an amazing set of rings and more importantly their meaning—she was married. She was married to Anthony Rawlings.
Slowly, she turned to see her husband. His bare feet elevated as he lounged in a reclining chair. Watching him, she marveled at his relaxed pose, a stark contrast to how he usually looked when they flew. His attention was focused on the laptop resting on his long legs. Her cheeks and the tips of her lips moved upward as she noticed his jeans. They were the ones he had worn when they left the reception. It seemed they were both wearing what the other preferred—he in his jeans, and her out of hers. She snuggled into the soft blanket and closed her eyes.
The engines hummed as she felt the plane taxi toward its stop. Claire recalled the past twenty-four hours. Tony was right. Brad and Monica created the perfect ceremony and reception. She remembered the estate and decorations. Even the snow obeyed as if requisitioned to complement the final product. She thought about their friends, her family, and the guests. She recalled John’s kind words and Brent’s welcoming toast. Smiling, she remembered Tony, incredibly handsome in his tuxedo and incessantly complimentary of her and her gown. Cinderella at the ball couldn’t have felt more special. Like Prince Charming he only had eyes for his bride. That admiration continued onto the jet. Once the cockpit door closed and the lights dimmed, his devotion grew into fervent passion.
Suddenly, she realized the implication of her blanket. If they’d reached their destination she needed to dress and quickly. “Are we at our honeymoon?”
He turned from his computer and smiled. “You didn’t need to wake. You look so beautiful and peaceful.”
Keeping the blanket wrapped around her, she went to him and knelt beside his chair. “I think I was worn-out.” Her emerald eyes glowed as she put her arms around his exposed midsection. Looking into his milk chocolate eyes, feeling his warmth, and inhaling his scent, she thought to herself, He is really my husband.
Tony’s eyes met hers, then scanned toward her blanket. Smiling, he said, “It was a busy day, Mrs. Rawlings.” The Mrs. Rawlings made Claire’s eyes sparkle. He gently kissed his wife and playfully attempted to see under her blanket.
“And an eventful night, Mr. Rawlings.”
“It isn’t over. We are just stopping in LA to refuel. We have much more flying before we reach our destination.”
This made Claire think. “So are we going to Hawaii?”
“Would you like to go to Hawaii?” Claire said she would, she’d never been. He loved to make her squirm “Well, we will have to find out where we end up, won’t we?” He kissed her again.
The plane was now standing still. Eric and the pilot entered the cabin and bid hello to Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings. Apologizing for the interruption, they promised to be airborne in less than thirty minutes. Tony told them it was fine, just please do whatever was necessary as soon as possible. They had a honeymoon to get to. The two men promised they would and opened the outside door to the cabin. The rush of fresh air was no longer cold. They definitely weren’t in Iowa.
Tony placed the laptop on the floor and invited Claire to his lap. She climbed up, resting her head on his strong chest and listened to the beat of his heart as he spoke about Los Angeles. His hands tenderly explored under her blanket, gently caressing her soft skin. Had she ever been there? She said no, she’d been to northern California, San Francisco when she was young on a family vacation. She remembered going to Alcatraz. Her dad, being a policeman, thought it was neat. But she didn’t. She recalled during the tour actually going into cells. There were audiotaped voices and sounds of cell doors closing, she didn’t like it at all. He hugged her. “I promise not to plan a visit to Alcatraz in our future. How old were you when you went there?”