We found our table just as the boat started moving away from the dock. I turned to the window, and the whole city unfolded before us—New Orleans in all its glowing, soulful glory, lights twinkling, people cheering as we passed, music floating in from every direction.
The buffet was ridiculous. I’m talking gumbo, jambalaya, crawfish étouffée, fried shrimp, red beans and rice, boudin balls, catfish, collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, bread pudding, and everything. My plate was stacked like I hadn’t eaten in days.
Maison laughed watching me eat. “I should’ve recorded this. You could be in a commercial.”
I grinned, wiping my mouth. “I’m happy. Like… really happy.”
He leaned in and kissed my cheek, that same slow, sweet affection he always gave.
I was dancing before dessert, letting the jazz carry me. The band played something upbeat and brassy, and I couldn’t help but move. I felt the wind in my hair and Maison’s laughter behind me. It was one of those moments where you know, deep in your gut, that you’ll remember it forever.
“Okay, okay!” I said, mid-dance, laughing as my stomach twisted. “I gotta pee before I embarrass myself.”
He smiled. “I’ll walk with you.”
I tilted my head. “To the bathroom?”
He nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world and reached for my hand. “Yeah. Gotta make sure you don’t get distracted and join the band or end up in the kitchen trying to steal recipes.”
I laughed hard, swatting his chest. “Boy, shut up.”
But I let him guide me through the deck, still holding my hand.
The bathroom door clicked shut behind me, and I couldn’t help but laugh. It was one of those small individual restrooms with soft yellow light and jazz still floating through the tiny window up high.
I hurried, trying not to laugh at myself for rushing, when there was a knock.
“Hey,” Maison’s voice teased from the other side, “I think it’s unsafe for you to be in there alone. I should come in and make sure you’re good.”
I laughed so loud it echoed. “Is that right? You just so concerned about my safety, huh?”
“I’m serious,” he said, laughing too. “You never know what could happen in there.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, washing my hands. “You just trying to get somewhere with me.”
Through the small cracked window, the music shifted. The bass got deep. There was something about the way a live band played R&B.
I opened the door, still grinning. “See? I’m fine.”
He slipped in anyway, closing the door behind him with that same grin. “Yeah,” he said quietly, stepping closer, “you are.”
The way he said it was a touch, all on its own. The kind that made you forget where you were. He wrapped his arms aroundmy waist, eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world was keeping time with the band outside that window.
“You hear that jazz?” he whispered.
I smiled. “I hear it.”
And then what he meant clicked.
“‘Have sex with jazz echoing through an open window,’” I said, remembering the line from my vision board.
He grinned. “You still checking things off, right?”
The rest happened the way freedom happens… unplanned, messy, but alive.
We kissed, slow at first, then with sexy urgency. It wasn’t the kind of moment you could choreograph, it was laughter between kisses, whispered challenges, and the jazz outside giving us our rhythm.
It was wild. I tried my best not to be too loud. I didn’t want to drown out that smooth jazz floating through the little window. But, whew, let’s just say the music had some competition.
