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“Where did all the balloons go?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and taking in the now-empty room.
“I cleaned them up,” Oliver replied, his voice carrying a hint of mischief.
“How? I didn’t hear any pops?” I questioned, puzzled by his method.
“You were passed out,” he chuckled.
“I’m sure I would’ve woken up if I heard popping,” I retorted with a smirk.
“I used scissors,” Oliver explained matter-of-factly.
“Wait, you cleaned everything up yourself?” I asked.
He crossed his arms. “You sound surprised. I’m self-sufficient when I need to be,” he replied, his tone laced with amusement.
“Lay with me,” I requested, feeling a sudden urge to snuggle up to him.
“I have something to finish up. Are you hungry?” Oliver inquired, changing the subject smoothly.
I shook my head. “No more.”
“Not even for cake?” he teased.
“You got me a cake?” I exclaimed, feeling a surge of excitement.
“Of course. You can’t have a birthday without cake,” Oliver replied with a grin.
“Maybe later. I need a shower,” I said, feeling the need to freshen up after my nap.
“Can I watch?” Oliver asked, waggling his eyebrows.
“Why don’t you join me?” I asked.
“I already took one,” Oliver said as a smile tugged at his lips.
“What exactly do you do when I’m sleeping? You cleaned up about two hundred balloons, did some work, and took a shower? How long was I asleep?” I questioned, curious about his activities in my absence.
“About three hours,” Oliver answered, his gaze softening as he looked at me.
“My birthday is almost over,” I remarked, feeling a twinge of sadness at the thought.
“Yes, it is. Did you enjoy it?” Oliver asked.
He sat down at the edge of the bed and I held my hand out for his, squeezing it as a silent gesture of gratitude. This man had changed my life in so many ways.
“It’s number one on the list of birthdays,” I replied with a smile, feeling truly grateful for the wonderful day Oliver had planned for me.
“I guess I have all year to figure out something to beat it,” Oliver mused, his mind already racing with ideas.
“I hope it will be more subdued,” I teased, though secretly intrigued by the prospect of another extravagant celebration.
“Nope. More extravagant. Maybe I’ll take you to Europe for the weekend,” Oliver proposed, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
“That would be a lot of traveling,” I remarked, feeling a mixture of thrill and apprehension at the thought.
“I have two company jets, so we don’t need to worry about commercial flights. We could fly out Friday night and Sunday night to come home. One has a full bedroom. You could sleep on the plane and be into work on Monday morning as fresh as a daisy,” Oliver explained, his confidence in his plan evident.
“Don’t remind me about work,” I groaned, the thought of Monday morning already dampening my spirits.
