“I didn’t want him to hate something on my body. If he knew the story behind the tattoos, it would change the way he saw it.”
“It doesn’t seem right to lie to the one you love.” I’m annoyed by the judgment in his statement.
“I’m not lying,” I argue. “The story isn’t relevant to my life anymore, so I don’t really see any reason to share it.” I can see my statement hurts him, and I wonder if I was too harsh.
“I don’t know, still seems like a lie,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.
I decide I’m not going to get drawn into a conversation about my relationship with Henry. Our dysfunction was none of Christian’s business. “What is this?” I ask, my stare shifting to a blanket spread across the floor, a basket off to one side.
“I told you I made us a picnic,” he replies, walking over to where I still cling to the wall. Taking my hand, he leads me to the blanket, our flesh touching causing butterflies to erupt in my stomach.
“Are you serious?” I question, and I begin to laugh, trying my best to ignore my body’s response to him.
“All right, I’m not sure if laughing is good or bad …” he responds, examining my expression. “Should I be insulted?”
“No!” I gasp. “Oh God—no, this is crazy. I mean crazy good. I can’t believe you went to so much trouble, I’m blown away.”
“Good, my plan is working then,” he chimes before rubbing his hands together in a devilish way.
Flopping down onto the blanket, I prop up on my knees and reach for the basket, welcoming any distraction from his adorableness. Grabbing the wicker box and pulling it close, I glance at him as he sits and ask, “May I?”
“Please do,” he replies, waving at me to continue.
Tossing back the lid and digging into the dark cavern, I begin pulling out the hidden treats. Christian narrates the reveal as I go. First there’s a tray of various cheeses. I recognize the Brie, and I can smell smoked Gouda, but the others are a mystery. Reaching back in, I find crackers with a choice of fig jam or apple butter.
The next item I pull out confuses me. It appears to be a lighter of some kind. “Umm, what’s this?”
He pushes up onto his knees, snatching the device out of my hand, then reaches into the basket and pulls out a container with two white ramekins in it. “It’s a torch for dessert.”
“Did you make crème brûlée?” I gasp in disbelief.
“Maybe,” he says slyly.
“This is too much!” I exclaim, popping a cracker into my mouth.
“Sparkling cider?” he offers, leaning to the side and coming back up with a bottle.
“Yes, please,” I answer eagerly. I watch him pop the top and pour the grape cider into plastic cups. As he hands me one, I’m a little overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the evening.
Christian lifts his plastic cup into the air and says, “To new beginnings.”
“To new beginnings,” I agree with a smile, and crash my cup into his, though I know his toast is intended in a different way than my own.
He takes a gulp then lies on his side, propping up his head with an open palm, staring at me as I take a drink. I feel the need to shift the attention.
“You at least have to get a dog.”
“Oh, for sure, it wouldn’t be a home without a dog.”
“So what kind of dog are you getting?”
“What kind would you like us to have?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows as he peers up at me.
“You don’t quit, do you?” I shove him gently, causing him to roll over onto his back, us both now snickering.
He sits up, and looking intensely into my eyes says, “Not when it’s something I really want.”
“Wow, way to make the mood all heavy,” I groan.
“Sorry,” he mutters, turning and pulling back a corner of the blanket where he had a small box hidden. “Okay, let’s see if I can lighten the mood … gift time.”
“What?” I question, completely perplexed by what’s happening.
“Christmas is in a couple weeks, and you’re headed back to New York, so I wanted to make sure you got your gift from me.”
“I didn’t get you anything,” I protest.
“I have an idea of something you can give me,” he growls, leaning in close.
“I bet you do,” I scoff.
“That’s later, but right now, open,” he commands, placing the box on my lap. I run my hands across the top, glancing up at him and smiling in anticipation. I know I shouldn’t be excited, but I am. I know it’s probably unwise to even open it, but I can’t help myself.