The bedroom is veiled in darkness. No Grant. Instead, a dress lies where the man I’ve fallen in love with should be. It’s beautiful. A gauzy, dusty lavender silk with a halter top and a flowy skirt. The tag says Chloe. It’s my size. A pair of Sophia Webster silver sandals with tiny butterflies attached to the straps sit next to it. This man.
Another card lies on top of the dress. You have fifteen minutes to get dressed, it orders.
Fifteen minutes? He’s right, he knows nothing about women.
I bolt into the shower and take a quick one. I get dressed, slap on some mascara, and lip gloss and shake out my hair in record time. The hint of a tan means I can get away with going out bare-faced, the state of my aching empty privates demands that I do. Getting this date on and over with so we can get back here is all my libido is interested in.
I step out of the bedroom and the lights on the back patio automatically come on. Through the large picture windows I catch sight of him. My breath stalls while my heart leaps inside my chest.
Be still, my heart. Be still.
Stepping out onto the flagstone, my hands automatically go to cover my mouth, tears flooding my eyes. Elation brimming spills over. I leave all my doubts and concern at the door and walk toward my future…and into a fairy tale.
The entire back patio is decorated. The pool is covered in gold balloons. Tiny white Christmas lights are strung from one end of the patio to the other creating a shimmering crosshatched canopy. Gold balloons arc above our heads spelling out Prom 2002.
And Grant…Grant is wearing a tuxedo and a shy smile, a blush painting his cheeks, while Roxy sits obediently by his side wearing a red bow and a sign that says CHAPERONE.
She barks twice and I laugh, tears breaking loose and sliding down my face.
Grant sees me crying and his face pinches. I’ve never known a man to hate feminine tears more than this one. It’s like it physically pains him to see it.
Closing the distance between us, he wraps his arms around me and I press my body against his, feeling the hard length of him through our clothes.
Roxy starts jumping up and down on us and Grant snaps his fingers at her and says sit. And she does! That’s almost as breathtaking as the decorations.
“Don’t cry. This was supposed to make you happy.”
“I am happy. So happy my body can’t contain it.” Standing on my toes, I throw my arms around his neck while his thumbs gently brush my tears away. “I can’t believe you did this––” I sigh, looking around at the table all set up for dinner.
“You got a corsage, too?” I say, laughing. “And Roxy…”
“Every prom needs a chaperone,” he says, straight-faced.
“Are you planning on getting fresh?” My smile cannot be contained. “Because if you’re not, I’m gonna get fresh with you.”
His hooded eyes fall to my lips and he sighs. “God, yes.”
“Good,” I murmur against his lips. I’m about to kiss him when he stops me, pulling back.
“No way. We start that and my plans will go to shit. Don’t pout. I put a lot of time and thought into this.”
He’s right. Even though my body protests loudly. All it wants is him and me naked––preferably in a bed.
He grabs the corsage off the table, a white orchid he takes out of the box and slips onto my wrist. Then he moves to the touch pad on the wall, punching numbers. The music comes on. The Scientist by Coldplay.
“A 2002 greatest hit?” I muse.
He picks something up off the table and pulls them into shape. Two paper crowns. I laugh.
“When I do something, I do it right.” His wicked smile makes all kinds of promises. I’m looking forward to each and every one. He places the smaller one on my head, then shoves his on.
“You voted me queen?”
He nods. “Now if this was prom 2002, I would be in college and your parents wouldn’t be too happy to have a meathead like me take their sweet, young daughter to prom.”
What’s so striking about Grant is his inherent innocence. He’s a grown man working in a testosterone-fueled business. Despite what he’s lived through, the violence he’s had to endure and witness, he’s managed to retain this innocence about him. It’s so rare and wonderful it makes me want to protect and nourish it, to hide it away from a world that could ruin it.
Placing a hand on my lower back, he pulls me flush against the warm wool, the hard length of him. And we start dancing, swaying slowly. Lost in each other––in this one perfect moment.
“My sweet, klutzy knight, if this was 2002 my parents would be passed out in the back of a bar somewhere. And you’re definitely no meathead. You’re everything a girl could wish for.”