“Harper—I’m home,” he says, trailing off toward the kitchen, probably because of the delicious smell. I leave two glasses of wine on the table, and rose petals. I know, cliché, but whatever it would get my point across to him hopefully. “What’s all this for?”
I scurry out of the bedroom to meet him in the living room. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”
His eyes survey me, and I could tell he likes my dress. “You look gorgeous. But you didn’t have to do all this.”
Without responding, my face is inches from his. “But I wanted to.” My lips were on his, and at first, he didn’t kiss me back, not because he didn’t want to, because from other body parts I could tell that wasn’t the problem. “I’m not broken or fragile. You can kiss me.” I take his hand and start at my shoulder and bring it down my arm. “You can touch me.”
His hands envelope around me, and his tongue wrestles with mine. This is how I pictured our night going, engrossed in each other, and getting to know each other in a different way. The timer goes off, but my lips didn’t want to leave his, my body wanting him to continue, but then he backs away.
“You should probably get that, and I’ll go get showered and changed,” he says, smiling, and looking back at me while walking to the bedroom.
Finally, we could start acting like a real couple, because that’s exactly what I want. I know he wants me to be able to remember, but at some point we have to start making new ones, too. I don’t want to stay stagnant until I remember, moving forward is the right direction. Tonight is all about doing that. I’m home alone with a handsome man who adores me, takes care of me, and he deserves to be rewarded for being a great boyfriend.
While he showers, I pull out some candles and place them on the table to set the mood, and then dish two plates and arrange them nice and pretty. The lighting is turned down, and it’s just how I want it to be, romantic. Now our night can officially begin.
“This is the only shirt I could find that was clean and seemed dressy enough.” He looks down at his chest, buttoning the shirt.
I stop him mid-button. “That’s okay. I don’t plan on you keeping it on long, anyway.”
My fingers work his top three buttons undone, and then my hands are on his chest. How am I lucky enough to have this man? Maybe it’s time to show him how grateful I am for him to stay by my side through my recovery, and let me stay with him until I can get back on my feet.
Our lips touch, and electricity shoots through my veins, among other sensations, and he still doesn’t put his hands on me, so I pull away.
“I’m not broken, you know.” I take his hand and place it on the small of my back.
At first, he idles for a second, but then he starts to move his hands to caress my back as he brings his lips back to mine and the rest of the night is history.