Mateo knocks. I provide moral support.
“Come in,” Daniela says.
She settles her gaze on us, then sighs. “I expect you’re here to hand in your resignation, Mateo?”
“Yes.”
She rises. “I’m happy for you.”
“We are happy for us too,” I say.
EPILOGUE
Florian
“It Had to Be You” wafts through the air, Frank Sinatra’s voice growing stronger with each second. My eyes flick open, and someone stirs beside me.
Mateo.
The love of my life.
The music drifts through the room in its customary pleasant manner. Mateo’s lashes flicker, and soon his dark brown eyes, the most beautiful color in the world, are staring at me.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he says.
I give a startled laugh, and he grins.
And then he kisses my cheek and jumps out of bed. I stare at the gorgeous man in front of me, so full of life. His curly hair pokes up in an unstructured manner, because Nashville is humid even in the night, and because we’ve been sharing a single pillow. He looks like an angel… the kind that Monet might have painted if he’d stopped staring at water lilies in his garden and pondered what the prettiest man in the world might look like.
My chest is light like I’m standing in one of those bright balloon baskets that float over the red-fountained landscape in New Mexico, the color combination not found in even the boldest Mannheim fashionista.
Mateo and I are going to return this year. I have already picked out the ring that I will give him.
Mateo bounces into the bathroom, the shower sounds, then he reappears, makeup applied. He holds his Twisters polo in his hand. He was working for a hotel downtown, but when Jessica said the team needed a new massage therapist, they hired him at once. Now we travel together.
“You’re still in bed!” Mateo exclaims.
“Well.” I shrug. “All the better to observe you.”
His eyes do a sort of surprised thing, then they soften.
Mateo isn’t completely confident yet, but that is okay. I like long projects, and there is nothing I would rather do than spend my life showing Mateo how amazing he is.
“Beds are also useful for other things,” I say.
“Not merely as an observation mechanism?”
“No,” I say. “In truth, that is rarely their primary function.”
“Ah, yes. Normally beds are in dark rooms.”
“With blackout shades,” I agree. I glance at the tight shades that almost blend in with the wall itself. “Though I do not mind them right now.”
“Oh, yeah?” One of Mateo’s eyebrows floats up, and I grin.
“Without a doubt.” Then I take Mateo’s hand and pull him onto the bed. Strictly speaking, he’s more on top of me than the mattress which is definitely my preferred placement.
“I’ve been up for the last hour,” I confess.
