Beau snorts. “I’ve only known you for a few days and even I don’t buy that statement.”
“Hmm.” I snuggle back into Beau’s side, relieved that we moved right past any awkwardness from sleeping together last night. It was touch and go when he started talking about his family but that didn’t last long.
He’s wearing whatever cologne he has that smells like cinnamon and it mixes with the smell of the hot chocolate to make my new favorite Christmas smell. One I’m going to pay serious money to recreate once he leaves.
“Here we are.” Tom stops the car.
“Thanks. You come inside too, Tom. I’ll call when we’re ready.”
“I’ll park and take you up on that.”
We get out of the car and I shuffle ahead of Beau. “Are you so excited?” I bounce and point to the sign above me. Bouncing in excitement being my default whenever Christmas is involved.
“The New York Botanical Garden? What’s here for Christmas? Poinsettias?”
“No. Well, yes. There’s probably some in there. Being a garden. But we’re here because every year they do a Holiday Train Show and they make New York buildings out of plants. And little trains go around them.”
“Trains? All right, that sounds pretty cool.” Beau assumes his standard position, where he slides his hand to my lower back like we’ve got magnets in my lower back and his hand, and we walk to the visitor center.
“So can we just say the city wins and call it a night?” Maybe we could call it a night in that fancy hotel room, or my less fancy apartment.
“No, ma’am. I never pass up trains and other things with motors.”
“Figures.” Rejected for a tiny toy.
Beau pays for the tickets before I can find my wallet in my purse and I vow to clean it out when I get home so I don’t lose the paying competition again. Because his face when I pay is too good to pass up.
“How was your day?” I ask as I speed up to open the door to the conservatory. I stand firm when he tries to take the door from me, making him go through it first. Which he does, with a roll of his eyes.
Take that, Old MacDonald. It’s the future and the future is female...s opening their own doors. And being equal, also.
“Really good. I saw some research and manufacturing spaces. I hope we can get everything decided by the end of the week. Next week by the latest.”
“Oh, that’s fast.” He’s going to be gone soon? In a week? I mean, I knew this was coming. He never lied to me about his residence and I’m a smart enough girl.
It’s the reason I was so comfortable going up to his hotel room last night.
But even though Iknewhe was leaving, I haven’t reallythoughtabout him leaving. Not as something penned into my planner. It was more like an abstract idea. Like gravity. It’s there, it’s comforting, but I don’t have to think about it all the time and if I really thought about it, it would just confuse me.
I mean really, how do we all not float away from this orb we’re on?
“It is. I had done a lot of the groundwork before I even got to the city, so this trip was just for some face-to-face meetings to finalize plans. And for art.” He winks at me.
“Congrats,” I force out, still freaked out by...gravity. Sure, that’s what’s freaking me out.
“I can’t wait to get home. Mom’s sending me pictures of the peach tree that we decorate every year for Christmas, still plain, and my sister’s sending me pictures of the tree decorations. Threatening to do it without me if I don’t come home quick.” He can’t keep the fondness out of his voice when he talks about family. That seems like a nice, normal, healthy relationship.
I don’t think I’ve ever had that type of relationship with my parents. When they left me in the States, I resented them. I didn’t take their calls, didn’t speak to them when they visited, and didn’t respond to their gifts. And then when I got older and could understand their reasons, it was too late.
Even if the resentment wasn’t coursing through me anymore, it was just habit not to be close to them. Habit to not text them when I got good news. Habit to turn to Chachiand Chacha when I needed help.
And then when their visits got less frequent, being with them was like being around strangers.
But Beau has so much fondness for his family. It’s apparent in his voice and the way his entire demeanor softens when he talks to them. I doubt he’d ever want to be far from the cause of that deep contentment. Why would anyone go away from happiness?
“That’s great.” I focus back on the miniature landmarks in front of me. “These are the highlights of our fair city, made of plants.”
“Let me get this straight. You guys concrete over the plants to build buildings and then make little versions of the buildings out of plants?”
