She walks from habit around the one rooftop vent that blocks the view of my spot, and the minute she clears it – the moment I hear her sharp intake of air, my name in a surprised tone on her lips followed by a hand flying up to her mouth – I know the past week’s preparation has paid off. Beaux turns to face me, tears welling in her eyes before looking back to the scene before us as she walks slowly toward the mattress.
When I can force myself to look away from her, I’m filled with relief to see the scene set to perfection by some of the hotel staff that I had paid on the side. A small canopy made with local fabrics from the closest market has been rigged to hang above the mattress. Scattered across the ground are glass votive candles that create a soft light against the skyline. The mattress itself has a new cover; the colorful tote I bought sits on top of it.
Beaux takes in everything, her hands smoothing over the fabric, moving past the flame of a candle, and running over the mattress. All the while her eyes flicker back and forth to me to make sure all of this is real.
“You did this?” The incredulity in her voice tugs on every damn heartstring I have. “How? Why? I…” Her voice fades off as she shakes her head.
“It’s not much, but —”
“It’s perfect!” There’s appreciation and so much more woven in her tone. “Just perfect.”
And the repetition of the word mixed with the break in her voice tells me that this was the right thing to do, that my sister was right: Every woman needs to feel like she matters regardless of how many hours you spend together a day.
“I won’t take all of the credit. I had some help.” Her eyes whip over to mine, but I just smile at her. “Relax. Hotel staff that don’t know us from Adam. It wasn’t anyone who works with us.”
When her smile softens as she turns to survey the scene again, I reach out and grab her hand, tugging her body so it lands firmly against mine. As she looks up to me, her eyelashes flutter, and her eye color is such a sharp green in this vast backdrop of tan landscape. “I just wanted to give you a real date like you deserve. Something more than sex in a hotel room…” I pause when we both laugh. “Which is kind of the only way we can have it here, considering the circumstances, but…” I have to stop myself from rambling, because even though I am never unsure of myself around women, for some reason, right now, I am nervous.
I don’t know if it’s the look in her eyes or the fact that this is the first time in forever that I really, truly wanted to try to make something special for someone, but the sudden sense of insecurity that I feel is foreign and oddly welcoming. Yet at the same time the feeling is a pain in the ass.
And I think she senses my conflict, sees me falter over the words that I can’t form, because she steps up on tiptoe, uses her hands on my shirt to pull me down to her, and presses her lips against mine. The kiss lingers over the next several minutes, tongues fluttering as we drink each other in, before she leans back and looks at me. “It’s the nicest thing that anyone has done for me in as long as I can remember. Thank you. It means more to me than you’ll ever know.” Tears glisten in her eyes as I pull her into my chest, wrap my arms around her, and just hold on.
We stand like this as time moves slowly amid the glow of tiny flickers of light and colors illuminating the sky on the horizon. And then, I begin to sway back and forth with her, stepping side to side, dancing to the beat of our heartbeats in rhythm together. I twirl her out at arm’s length, her gasp of surprise turning to a laugh that causes her head to fall back and her hair to hang farther down her back. She spins into my arms again, so that our chests touch and our hearts are connected once more.
“I guess I could play some music on my phone,” I say in a pseudo apology, suddenly embarrassed that I forgot such an important element of the evening. But when I start to let her go, she just holds on tighter.