23
THE INN COMES INTO VIEW. It’s a grand old Victorian home, blue and white, surrounded by a covered porch and beautiful landscaping. It reminds me a little of Blake’s house, but much larger.
Blake shoots me a smile. “You did all this for me?”
“Yes,” I say. “And for me too,” I add with a playful grin.
I drive into one of the visitors’ parking spots. “You’re pretty high maintenance, Mr. I-Need-Romance,” I tease.
He laughs. “So this is what this is all about? You want to romance me?”
I bite my lip. “Well, I’m only here for two more days… I figure I might as well make the most of it,” I tell him. “We can kiss as much as we want, we can cuddle, and pillow talk too,” I tease. “No more objectifying you and using you just for sex.”
“Well…” he says. “I just want to clarify… I’m pretty okay with that… the whole sex thing.”
“C’mon, you’re a classy guy, and you deserve to be wined and dined, to be treated with respect, like the gentleman you are.”
He cocks a brow. “But… there will still be sex, right?”
I laugh. “Of course… sweet and slowromanticsex,” I say, teasing again.
I close my eyes for a quick second at the thought of sweet slow sex with Blake. I can’t wait. I haven’t let myself have him this way before, afraid of getting too close, afraid of getting hurt, but I’m willing to take the chance now because I want him so badly. I want to taste his sweet mouth, feel his hot skin on my tongue, and savor him for hours.
“Mmmm… sweet and slow romantic sex,” he says. “I like the sound of that.”
I studythe place as I quickly check us in. It’s very cozy; contemporary furniture in soft soothing shades. Interesting paintings and knick knacks dot the décor, and a fun old-style gum ball machine stands in the corner. The Inn proprietor, Sarah, is lovely, about Momma’s age. She wears cat-eye glasses, and her blonde hair is in a cute bob. She’s thick around the waist, as most women her age are. “Is this a special occasion?” she asks. “Anniversary?”
I smile. “No. Just a romantic getaway.”
She hands me the keys and a folder with pertinent information; Inn info, Wi-Fi password, and local attractions promo pamphlets.
I’ve checked us in as Mr. and Mrs. Gallagher, so she’s right to assume, and for some reason, I like the thought of thinking of us as an old married couple, if only for one night.
As soon as we drop our suitcases on the floor, I check out the room. It’s perfect; bright and airy, tasteful and classy. The skylight windows on the ceiling let in natural sunlight. Tall windows are framed by stylish dark drapes. The floor is driftwood, and covered with faded oriental area rugs. A large canopy bed is covered with fluffy bedding in shades of grey, white and pale blue, and a myriad of decorative pillows. Smack at the center of the collection is a playful cushion of a kitten, a whimsical touch.
“Look at the kitty pillow,” I cheer, as excited as a kid at an amusement park. He smiles at me. He’s standing by an antique armoire, looking up at the cool modern chandelier. Stylish slipper chairs sit opposite a small breakfast table by the tall windows. There’s also a desk and a wide screen TV on the wall. And the piece de résistance; a marble gas fireplace.
I dash to the washroom to inspect it; it’s just as perfect; large soaker tub, made for two, a fancy shower, and matching sinks and vanity mirrors. This is the room Momma and Daddy used to stay in, the Honeymoon Suite. It’s quite the expense, considering I don’t have a job anymore but I have a lot of savings, and this is so worth it.
Blake is smiling – he likes it too. “So we’re married now?”
“Of course,” I say. “We’ve been married for a while now. Old boring married couple, that’s us,” I joke. “We only have boring married sex… missionary in the dark. No more naughty games for us.”
He smiles wide. “Well, I think this place might just inspire us to get a little crazier.”
“Let’s hope,” I say. I’d wink at him, if I only knew how to.
The leaves crackunder our feet. The air feels warm and clean, like slipping on a clean cotton t-shirt fresh from the dryer. The weather is volatile this time of year. A day ago, it was chilly, and today we’re experiencing an Indian summer. Blake has tied the sleeves of his jacket around his waist, and is wearing a vintage Nirvana t-shirt. We’re both quiet, enjoying the hike, lost in our own thoughts. I wonder what he’s thinking about, but I don’t dare ask. I’m thinking about my trip back home, my job search, and of course, him. About ninety percent of my thoughts involve him.
Every now and then, he shoots me a smile. He still has a nice summer tan but I know it will fade soon. I think of us when we were younger and discovering each other, his light skin against my dark complexion, his large hands against my small delicate ones. The contrasts were always so beautiful to me.
Blake can sometimes be the most obnoxious person I know, but there’s this whole other side to him, the quiet introspective man. Not many people know how sensitive he is. He always puts on such a strong front.I have my shit together, don’t worry about me, it says, but the thing is, no one completely has their shit together. I certainly don’t. My life is such a mess right now, I don’t even want to think about it.
I shake the thoughts out of my head, and I jog in front of him toward a cool old tree in the distance. It lives in the shadows of taller trees surrounding it.
“Where are you going?” Blake calls out, and then he’s right behind me.
The tree’s trunk seems deformed, bent at a ninety degree angle, almost as if a force of God pushed into it and twisted it as it grew. It’s the weirdest tree I’ve ever seen.
