“I-” a gasp over the view of the stairs cuts off my rebuttal. “Rose petals?!” Disbelief paralyzes me in place. “There’s a path of rose petals leading to our room?!”
“Don’t worry,” Jukes brushes off and picks up the device again. “Sofie’ll be by again tomorrow while you’re at work to handle the mess.” My mouth barely twitches before he’s adding, “For extra pay.”
How is one human always so fucking thoughtful?
“I uh…came to that conclusion kinda late,” the man I love confesses during my ascending. “Got the idea together, bought all the stuff I could, ordered everything else, was feelin’ like Johnny Cash winnin’ a grammy for ‘A Boy Named Sue’ when it hit me that I wasn’t gonna be home to decorate…or…clean up.” A bashful scratch to the back of his neck occurs. “That whole do first, think second thing, got one by me again.”
“It often does.”
Which is why we have a giant bird feeder in the backyard meant to entice Owlfonso to come liveheredespite the fact owls don’t eat bird seeds.
Yes.
His impulsiveness is charming yet dangerous.
Great for the game.
Not necessarily always a win in our relationship.
I have not enjoyed calling the exterminator for what I fear might be a mice infestation.
Arrival in our bedroom – a label I’ve just naturally used since the first time I slept in the space – reveals to me not only the end of the trail but a rolled out red carpet to the California king where there are two objects splayed out for me.
One wrapped.
One simply displayed on a fancy hanger.
“Go on,” Jukes encourages, face watching my face admire everything, “pick it up.”
I carefully lift the silk black robe, awe once again returning to my expression.
“And turn it around.”
The quick spinning reveals the term “Slayer” in gems, successfully taking away whatever breath I had managed to gather.
“Protective gear for those mornings Bronskie forgets to sleep in.”
Giggles are accompanied by an amused headshake.
“See,” he playfully taps his temple, “Icanthink before I act.” A good-natured eye roll precedes him kicking his chin forward. “And now the other.”
Post gingerly returning the piece of clothing to the mattress, I retrieve the small item, wrapped in bright yellow paper. In a mirthful manner, I wiggle the object around and taunt, “The paper matches your socks, aye?”
“Intentional.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah.” His purple suit jacket covered shoulders innocently bounce. “Gettin’ my Smokey Robinson on.”
Quirking an eyebrow can’t be helped.
“’Being With You’.”
Another round of coos escapes; although these are followed by propping the phone on its bedside stand – an accessory gifted to me by Joey who swears it’s what she gives to all the new Slayers whether they’re new because they just started dating a player or just got traded here because it doesn’t matter who you are.
Hands free to have conversations is nice.
Jukes excitedly watches my childlike enthusiasm of ripping open the only physical gift I got today, frame leaned so close to the phone I swear he’s trying to climb through it.
