Mason pulls back just enough to look at me, his hands still firm at my hips.
“Yeah?” he adds casually, like he didn’t just kiss the breath out of me. “You should probably pack a bag.”
I blink. “A bag?”
His mouth twitches like he’s trying not to give something away. “Overnight. Two days, maybe.”
I stare at him, my brain lagging behind my heart. “Mason…what are you talking about?”
He reaches past me, grabs the cupcakes off the counter, and sets them safely out of the way before leaning back in, lowering his voice like he’s sharing a secret.
“I booked us a hotel for the weekend.”
My breath catches. “You…what?”
“Fancy one,” he says, nodding like this is no big deal. “About two hours away. Room service. Big tub. Pool. No schedules. No alarms. Just you and me.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “You didn’t.”
“I did.” His thumb brushes slow circles into my hip. “It’s your birthday. And I know things have been heavy lately.”
That word lands right in my chest.
Heavy.
“I wanted to give you something to look forward to,” he continues, quieter now. “A couple days where you don’t have to be strong or hopeful or patient. Where you don’t have to think about school or timing or—” He stops himself, swallows. “Anything.”
My eyes burn before I can stop it.
“Mason…” My voice wobbles. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” he says simply. “I want you. That’s the whole point.”
I press my forehead to his chest, breathing him in, grounding myself in the steady beat of his heart.
“When do we leave?” I ask, my voice muffled.
He smiles into my hair. “Thursday after work. You’re gonna have to take the day Friday.”
I laugh and pull back just enough to look up at him. “You planned this whole thing without telling me?”
“Been sitting on it for weeks,” he admits. “Hardest secret I’ve ever kept.”
I laugh, wiping at my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “But you married me anyway.”
I smile then, real and full, and loop my arms around his neck.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He kisses my temple, slow and lingering. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
His hands tighten on my hips firmly, like he’s not messing around.
Before I can take another breath, he backs me up until my lower back bumps the counter.
His mouth is on mine, urgent and hungry, kissing me like the cupcakes were just an excuse to get here, and the way he hums against my lips…yeah, that’ll win him Husband of the Year. No contest.
