Locke kisses my hand and tells me I’m the most amazing woman in the world. He and everyone else watches as walk to the stage and ascend the steps, closer to the award that seems made for me.
The cheering doesn’t stop. Not when Michael hands over the black and gold plaque, and not when I mumble a few sentences of gratitude into the microphone. Thankfully, they don’t expect me to match my acceptance speech to my boss’s award speech. Even with my mind, I don’t think I’m skilled enough to handle public speaking like that right on the spot.
The cheering finally dies down when I’m heading back to my friends. I’m just reaching the table when the emcee says it’s time for dessert and motions for the waiters to roll out the treats.
Everyone hugs me briefly. Liliana is struggling to keep her tears at bay, and Derek is going on and on about how badass I am, when Locke wraps my coat around me.
“Sorry about this, but I need to steal my girl away for a bit.”
I trust my award in Liliana’s hands, when Grant coughs. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to…”
“Ew!” Billie claps her hands over her ears, shaking her head and dropping dramatically into her chair.
“We’re not!” I reassure them, although I guess Locke hasn’t verbally confirmed anything. I just trust how well I know him. “We’re only taking a few moments to ourselves. We’ll be right back.”
Surprisingly, no one accuses us of bullshitting. Maybe they understand I wouldn’t risk the most fulfilling moment of my academic life for anything. Not even for a rendezvous with Locke, despite him being more talented with his tongue than one man ever should be.
There’s always later.
When we step out of the room, Locke doesn’t head towards the building’s exit. Instead, he goes opposite from the front door, leading me hand-in-hand down an unknown hallway darker than the rest of the building.
I feel the need to whisper, “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.”
“We’ll be fine. I’ve come here a handful of times for my father’s events.” I squeeze his hand quickly, and he squeezes back while weaving us around the halls. “There’s a place here I love. I want to show it to you.”
I don’t ask any more questions. I trust Locke. Here, and anywhere. If he wants to share something with me, I’d never turn him down.
Minutes later, we reach two wooden doors with windows taking up their upper-halves. Locke throws them open and a rush of cold air brushes past my face.
It’s a small courtyard. Tucked away with only two snow-covered benches taking up the space and remnants of spring foliage lining the stone floor. In terms of décor, it’s not much, but it’s never about material things with Locke.
When we shuffle into the middle of the courtyard, he turns me around, and I see it. The red tip of his nose, and the snowflakes dropping onto his blonde hair.
I stand on my toes and reach up to touch the ice dusting his forehead.
“We came out here so you could freeze?” I laugh. The snow gathering on my own hair must not be any better, but Locke shakes his head.
“Not gonna freeze. I haven’t spent a single day with you where I don’t feel warm.”
It’s instant. That exact warmth spreads around my body, starting from the lips that belong to him and down to the groundthat only feels solid when we’re together. I see Locke’s breath when he sighs. His hand cups my cheek at the exact time I grab onto the initial necklace that represents my world.
“I love our home. I love being there with you, comfortable all the time. But the other day, while we were watching movies, I realized I messed up. We spend so much time indoors with each other, that I never got to give you your kiss in the rain.”
My breath hitches. The memories of a younger me, yearning for that one special gesture, come flooding back. The distinct moment of me telling Locke about that dream accompany them. I do still long for that cliché, romantic drama kiss. I’d just been so enamored with the love story Locke and I created on our own, I’d forgotten about the one I dreamt of by myself.
Another group of snowflakes find home on his forehead. I brush them away, and Locke’s emerald green eyes soften.
“I know it’s snow, and not rain, but I don’t think I can wait that long to watch another one of your dreams come true.” Under the romantic moonlight of a winter evening, and the perfect cover of a Boston snowfall, Locke McCarthy makes me the luckiest girl in the world. “Can I kiss you?”
I don’t know why he asks. With him, the answer is always yes.
The love of my life kisses me. Lips pressed against mine, softly and slowly. While the metal of his watch grazes my neck and the letter of his name rests on my chest.
It’s not rain, or heated kisses, or gut-wrenching love confessions.
It’s better. With Locke, life is always better.
