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“It’s beautiful here, Henry,” Lucy says with the excitement of a child visiting their favorite theme park for the first time.
“Everything you pictured in your books?” I ask.
She looks back at me. “Much better.” And leans in for a quick kiss.
She looks lovely bundled up in her winter attire, a puffy black coat with a faux-fur hood. A large olive colored scarf wrapped around the bottom of the hood, her thick sunglasses and her long brown hair flowing out the sides of her hood.
“I had some thoughts for dinner,” I tell her.
“Oh, what do you have in mind?” she asks innocently.
You.
“I’ll do the cooking.” I pause. “Even though we are planning to stay in, I thought we could still make a date of it.” I watch as she follows me. “I can wear my suit, you can wear a dress. You do have a dress here, don’t you?”
“A couple.” She gives me a wicked smile. “And I have the perfect one for tonight.” A quiet giggle escapes her mouth, and it sends an electric jolt through my body. The last time she wore a dress comes to mind.
Off the shoulder, exposing her long neck.
The slit that highlights her gorgeous long legs.
I can only hope this one looks similar.
“Well, it’s a date then,” I confirm, and she pulls close to my side, wrapping both of her arms around me.
Thirty-Nine
HENRY
Lucy’s been upstairsfor hours. She insisted on her privacy as she got ready, and I reluctantly obliged. With my suit in hand, I head to my temporary dressing room for this evening, Finn and Mia’s room.
With some more time to kill before I need to begin preparing dinner, I decide to text Max.
Henry
All is well, Lucy and I are back at my place. Planned a romantic dinner for this evening, making her your chicken Alfredo. Thanks for everything.
Max
Buon Appetito, Henry.
I shower quickly but don’t dress in my suit just yet. I hang it in the bathroom downstairs to change into at the last minute. I don’t want to get anything on it while I’m cooking. I made Lucy promise not to come down until I texted her that everything was ready.
The chicken sizzles in the pan as the pasta cooks in boiling water and I mix the ingredients for the sauce together. I choose to add less garlic than the recipe calls for. Max must smell like it for days after if he uses this much. Tonight, it is necessary that I have fresh-smelling breath.
The meal comes together rather quickly and I’m plating it in no time. The table is set, wine glasses full, with glasses of water next to them, as I know she likes.
I dash into the bathroom, leaving my cooking outfit on the floor in a pile. I put my suit on quickly and take one final look in the mirror before I pull out my phone.
Henry
Dinner is served.
I take my place by the table and watch for her to reach the top of the stairs. The first thing I notice is the long leg that breaks free of her skirt with a black strappy high heel at the end. My gaze travels up to the top of her hip.
She’ll never wear this anywhere but in our home.
She descends the steps slowly, exactly as I’d film it for a movie, and her hand slides effortlessly down the banister. The top of her dress is a solid form that is exceptionally low in the bust, which leads me to believe if she moved any faster, she may risk falling out of it. Her shoulders are bare apart from her hair that falls in loose curls around her.
