He groans and takes hold of my hips. “You know I hate mini golf. Why do you want to torture me with it, angel?”
I smile, loving the knowledge that he would play it with me if I pushed him to. I won’t, but it makes me feel loved knowing he’d do it. “It was just an idea. What do you want to do?”
We’re figuring out what we’re going to do on our date this afternoon. Our first real date in forever. I’m so excited for this time with him that I wouldn’t care if we went to the airport and watched planes take off. I’ve heard that’s a thing for some people. It sounds boring as hell to me, but if I did it with my husband, it would be a great afternoon.
Asking Winter what he wants to do on a date is like asking him the hardest question in the world. If he had his way, our dates would all take place in our bed. He surprises me, though, when he says, “How about we take in some live music? I saw there’s a band playing at the pub this afternoon.”
“Ooh, yes! We could have some drinks, and you can dance with me.” I grin. “I’ll allow that.”
He chuckles. “I’m clearly a lucky bastard if you’ll allow me to dance with you.”
I loop my arms around his neck. “You really are. Don’t you forget that.”
My phone rings and I glance at it on the vanity as Winter lets me go and says, “We’ve got ten minutes before we have to leave.”
I grab my phone, eager to talk to my bestie. “So that means we’ve actually got twenty minutes, right?”
“Ten minutes. After that, I’m confiscating the phone.”
“You know I like bossy Winter. Maybe I’ll talk for eleven minutes.”
“Fuck,” he swears and brushes his lips over mine before leaving me.
I answer the call, smiling at Cleo through the phone. “Babe, tell me how you went! Tell me everything!” Cleo and Mark went to their first salsa dance class last night, and I’ve been hanging out to hear how it went. I’m thinking Winter and I should find a class, too.
“Let’s just say salsa is not the dance for my husband.”
“Oh no. He didn’t love it?”
“He tried, but it’s a no from me. Like, a big, fat no in all shouty caps. At one point, I thought I was going to trip over his feet that he didn’t have in the right place.”
I laugh at the way she describes the experience. “Well, at least you gave it a go. What’s next on the list?” Cleo has a list of things she wants them to do together. So far everything they’ve tried has been a bust, either because one of them was bored or one of them didn’t love it.
“Well, we’ve crossed out ballroom dancing, Crossfit, rowing, archery, tennis, rock climbing, and now salsa. I think we’re ready to take binge drinking back up and call it a day.”
“Might be hard with a kid and all.”
“Why do you have to shoot down all my good ideas? So, tell me, are you guys ready for your counselling session this morning?”
It’s our first one. Winter agreed to it after he got home from Brisbane. I’d been ready for a big discussion about it, thinking he wouldn’t be keen, but he said yes straight away.
“I don’t know if ready is the right word, but we’re doing it. I’m ready for what it will hopefully do for us.”
Since he’s been home, we’ve only briefly talked about the hard stuff; I haven’t wanted to push us too fast. I hope he’ll be okay with the therapy session today. My heart is already hurting for him. I’ve been slowly working through my grief and hurt, so I kinda know what to expect. I’m not sure Winter is aware of just how much there is to be unpacked.
“I’m so proud of you guys. Knowing everything you’ve been through, and seeing you still standing together and admitting you need help; it’s not every couple who fights for their love like you do.”
“Aww, you’re making me all squishy. Thank you for saying that.” I check the time. “Okay, I better go. It’s almost time for Winter to come looking for me.”
“I love you, Birdie.”
I smile. “I love you, too.”
She waves her hands at me through the screen. “Go. And know I’m thinking of you.”
I leave the bedroom in search of Winter, thinking about how important it is to know someone’s thinking of you. I don’t think I realised just how important until last year. It makes me think of Maddox, so I send him a quick text.
* * *
Me: Did you recover from NYE yet?
* * *
It was New Year’s two days ago and I haven’t heard from him since. He had a party to go to, so my guess is he had a big night.
* * *
Maddox: Nothing to recover from. Didn’t go.
Me: Why not? What’s going on?
* * *
I run into Winter as I send my last text.
“You ready?” he asks.
I look up at him. “I think something’s wrong with Maddox.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Gut feeling.”
He grabs his keys and phone. Jerking his chin at the garage, he says, “We need to go.”
“I’m just gonna ring Maddox and check in with him.”
He places his hand to the small of my back. “You can do that in the car.”
I let him guide me out to the car while I call Maddox. When he doesn’t answer, I leave a message, “Hey Maddox, just checking in on you. Are you okay? I’m getting the impression you’re not. Call me. Let me know.”
I get in the car and Winter closes my door. I watch as he rounds the car and gets in the driver’s seat. When he drops the keys in the console, I wrap my hand around his forearm and say, “I love you.”
He turns his head to look at me. I can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but I know exactly what they look like. Those eyes are part of my soul after all these years of him watching me with them. “I love you, too, angel. You good?”
I smile and lean across to kiss him. “Yeah, I’m good. I’ve got you.”
“Fuck,” he rasps and cups my cheek before kissing me again. He takes his time with it, to the point where I wonder if he’s planning on ever stopping. When he does drag his mouth from mine, he says, “You’ve always fucking got me, baby.”
Still smiling, because my belly is a mess of butterflies after that kiss, I say, “I think we might be late now, and it won’t be my fault.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Well, you were the one who initiated that kiss, so it’s your fault.”
He kicks over the engine. “I only started it because how the fuck could I not, so technically it’s your fault.”
I thread my fingers through his hair at he nape of his neck and laugh at him while he reverses out of the garage.
“Maddox didn’t answer?” he asks as we drive to our therapy session.
“No. And he didn’t reply to my text. I hope he’s okay.”
“He’s probably with his mates.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I change the subject, wanting to keep this morning for us. I’ll think about Maddox after our session. “What are your thoughts on salsa dancing?”