Minutes passed while she was tucked into my chest, and I didn't expect a response. And I knew the answer: today didn't break her, but it left bruises. How could anyone walk away unscathed after hours of backhanded comments and an all-out shaming session? That we were here, snarking on this afternoon's shiny points, was proof of Tiel's strength. Those bruises would heal, in due time.
"We're not going there again," she finally said.
"No, we're not," I agreed.
"I don't want to be here anymore, Sam. Let's get the hell out of this town," she said. "I know, I know, it's crazy and the drive home is—"
"We'll go to Manhattan," I interrupted. "We can get there within two hours. We'll spend the rest of the weekend in the city, and I'll reach out to that celebrity chef, the one who had the big restoration project in Hyannis. He's got a new restaurant, or two."
Her eyes brightened. "Yes, and now we can go to the theatre! Some of the shows reserve a handful of tickets for day-of sales if you go to the box office, and sometimes they have really good seats. Years ago, whenRentwas on Broadway, they did this crazy thing where they had a wooden bench all the way down front. You could wait in line each morning to buy these super cheap tickets, and I swear, they were the best seats, and my heart still melts every time I hear 'Seasons of Love.'"
"What else would make you happy?" I asked.
"Can we go to Serendipity for frozen hot chocolate?" she asked. "I've never done it because it's so touristy, but I've always wanted to."
"You're getting all the frozen hot chocolate you can eat, Sunshine," I said.
"Oh, and hotel-room sex is myfavorite."
"Don't I know it," I said. My phone was out, and I was already searching for rooms with Central Park views. "I intend to fuck you hard enough that you'll black out and forget this entire day. The only memory you'll have is my handprint on your ass."
"You are so good to me," she said, and there was a reverence in her voice that outsized my lewd promises. She needed this from me, and she needed it tonight.
Tiel had been independent for ages—with parents like that, she'd have to be—though there was a part of her, a tiny, fragile part, that wanted to let go. But the lines were fine. Her independence was hard won, and feeling much distance from it put her in panic mode. She would rather make boggy decisions than let anyone rob her of choice.
Hence the tenure-track gig that was steadily killing her passion for music.
The one place I could call all the shots was the bedroom, and it was damn good that we were headed there. She needed to get out of her mind, and she needed to know exactly how bare and exposed she could be with me.
"I'm warning you now, sweetheart," I said, my lips ghosting over her ear. She burrowed into my chest with a sigh. "You won't be able to sit down for a week without thinking of me."
"Thank you," she said against my shirt. "I don't think I could have done all that today without you. You're a special star. The specialest."
"Only because you help me shine," I said.
"Okay," I said, scowling at the traffic ahead of us. "Let's seize this opportunity to talk."
"Seems unwise," Tiel murmured.
The past two days were a blur of Broadway shows, mind-blowing sex, and late nights. Tiel got in touch with some of her New York band geek friends yesterday, and we found ourselves at a massive after-show cast party that didn't wind down until dawn. My head was still ringing from the wine and nonstop a cappella battles, and Tiel didn't look much better. But it was worth it.
"Now that we're headed home and we've gotten all these hurdles out of the way, and we know that we're going to do whatever we want, let's decide."
"Decide what?" Tiel asked, her voice hoarse. She sang the shit out ofLes Misérablesat that cast party.
She sipped her cappuccino and stared out the window, but I could tell from the way she kept her arms crossed and the tight pull of her shoulders that she was still processing the past few days. The detour to New York City helped soothe the sting, but it was a short-term remedy at best.
"Decide what we want for our wedding," I said. I wanted my tone to be easy and reassuring, but the words came out fast and eager, revealing exactly how desperately I wanted this locked down.
"How are you capable of talking about a wedding right now?" she asked, chuckling from behind her coffee. "We just spent a weekend at The Plaza, drank Greenwich Village dry, and you dropped fivethousanddollars onHamiltontickets."
"My baby wants orchestra center, my baby gets orchestra center," I said. "My baby also likes it when I fuck her against windows in fancy hotels, so my baby definitely gets that, too. And I want you to give me a single example, outside of this weekend, of the last time you've let me spoil you."
She held up her hand and wiggled her ring finger at me.
"Aside from that," I said. "Listen. I want to give you the wedding you want, and I don't care what it costs."
"Does it have to be a big deal?" she asked.
