That’s what I cling to. Not the ugly heartbreak of his past that still sits firmly between us.
We finish lunch up and head for one of the Smithsonian museums. I could spend weeks here exploring all the history of DC but unfortunately, we have only today, and I couldn’t pass up this place even though it was a tough call to make.
We enter the National Museum of American History, and Keith instantly takes my hand, intertwining our fingers. He brings it up to his lips, absently kissing my knuckles as we stroll. That simple innocuous move shouldn’t do to my insides what it’s doing.
I had no idea it was possible to be this in love with someone.
And by all rights, that should scare me the way it did when this all first began. But I’m too swept up to imagine ever hitting the ground. Even when I know it’s lurking right beneath me.
My eyes wander, reading signs and unsure where to start first. “Good afternoon,” a woman with a tidy gray bun and a warm smile greets us. “My name is Joselyn. I’ll be your guide for today.” I glance over to Keith who just shrugs with a smug smirk on his lips.
“You deserve the full experience,” is his only explanation, and by the time I take two steps following after Joselyn, another voice whispers in my ear.
“He just wants to see Prince’s yellow Cloud electric guitar.” Henry. I pivot in his direction and he laughs at my expression. “What? You’re not the only one who gets off on this shit. We rented the place out.”
“You can do that?” I gasp out incredulously. I hadn’t realized that there were no other tourists lurking about until he said that.
“We can do anything we want. We’re playing in their city tonight. It was barely a phone call,” Gus says with a wink.
“I feel like I should have been the one to do that,” I grouse.
“But then it wouldn’t have been a surprise,” Keith states, squeezing my hand tighter.
“She wore a raspberry beret. The kind you find in a second-hand store,” Henry sings.
“Um, you do realize that Washington’s uniform is here. Dorothy’s ruby slippers. The freaking desk the Declaration of Independence was written on. Edison’s lightbulb.”
Henry nudges into me. “And you’re not a history professor because…” He leaves that hanging, and it suddenly strikes me funny. Vi is an elementary school special education teacher. A substitute at this point since she’s mostly home with the girls, but that’s what she was doing before she was hired as Adalyn’s nanny prior to her and Jasper getting together.
Is that something I could do?
Teach history? World history since the history of the world is so fascinating. I read tons of historical non-fiction any chance I get. It’s like crack being funneled to me through an IV. But do I want to teach it? Ugh! So much to figure out. So many things to try out once I go back to school. I wish it were tomorrow.
I wish it could be sooner than I know it will be.
“Lincoln’s top hat is here as well as Graham Bell’s large telephone,” Jasper tacks on, catching my eye. “I’ve been to DC at least a dozen times and never once ventured out into the museums. I’m so bummed Vi and the girls couldn’t be here for this. They’d love it.”
Gus slaps him on the back. “It’s like Henry’s island, bro. We’ll do this up right when the girls are bigger. When Naomi and I have brats of our own.”
I step back a little, watching these guys examine the plaques and read the signs and stare in awe at the exhibits. I do too. I mean, this is history. It’s so gorgeous to witness. To read about. To try and fathom. I want to go to the Holocaust museum. That will break me wide open, but as a human, it is something we should all witness. I want to go to the botanical gardens and the art museum. I want to go to the African American History museum because, again, it’s something every human should experience.
But I also want to travel the world and experience it as well.
Keith turns back to me after all five of us listen to Joselyn explain the first Apple Mac computer. He’s all smiles. Like a triumphant king. He did this for me. He set up that cruise in Seattle just for me. A late dinner date in San Francisco and a stroll through Central Park in New York.
And now here are we are in DC in a museum he rented out so I could take in all the fucking history without people dripping all over the band as they tend to do when we’re out in public.
I love you, I think, but don’t dare blurt out. Instead, I bite the inside of my cheek to stop the words before they tumble from my lips. They’ve been hovering there for a while now and if they choose this moment to finally break free, it’ll ruin everything. I mean, goddammit, how can they not?
“You okay? You’re making a face.”
I blush like mad. “A face? No, I’m not making a face.”
He gives me an amused smirk. “You are, actually. Like you’re thinking something but don’t want to say it. What’s up?”
Damn him being able to read me so well. I look away before he can see all.
“I’m just really happy. You make me so, so happy and I think… wooh,” I blow out. Hold it in, girl! “Nothing. It’s nothing. You’ve just done so much for me this past week and it’s been nothing short of incredible.” I chance a glance back over at him and now his eyes are wide. Stunned, sure, but maybe a little wary too, so I rush on. “I’m not telling you this expecting you to tell me I make you happy back. I’m not. It’s just that, yeah, it’s like you said back in Seattle before you went on stage.” Shut up! Shut up! “You’re just you and then you did this and I…” I sag on an exaggerated sigh. “Thank you. That’s all I’m very poorly trying to say.”
His face lights up, just lights up, but he remains silent even as my rant dies out and I’m left standing here blushing. Now I know how Julia Roberts felt in Notting Hill when she told Hugh Grant that she’s just a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her. Dammit. Why does love have to be like this? All complicated and shit.
The other guys are here and they’re all over it but it’s not the same. Keith knows it, and so do I. He rented out the fucking National American History Museum.
He did this for me.
Because I told him I wanted to go here.
“One day, when you guys tour the world again, will you show me all the history?”
His lips meet mine. Hard. Rough. Reckless. They don’t know what to do with me. But something about this kiss feels different. A bit more passionate. A touch more demanding. He might not be able to tell me he loves me with his words, but this kiss is certainly doing it for him.
His actions too, and that’s what I love most.
His tongue sweeps out as he deepens our connection, one hand in my hair, the other on my lower back, pressing me deeper into him like he can’t get close enough. “Maia,” he hums into me, gripping the roots of my hair in a tight fist of desperation.
A sudden shrill whistle pierces the air.
“Either get a room or catch up but quit it with all the PDA,” Gus calls out. “It’s disgusting.”
Henry makes an exaggerated vomiting noise, and Keith and I pull away with a laugh. He throws Gus the middle finger. “You’re a dozen times worse with Naomi.”