She means a lot to them too. It was her idea to invite my grandparents to the hotel her family owns on New Year's Eve. Both my grandparents had tears in their eyes when they stood by the window and watched the ball drop. It was a bird's eye view of the city they love celebrating a new beginning. Lark had opened one of the windows just enough let the sounds in, but keep the cold out. We toasted with cider at midnight and as my granddad kissed my grandmother, I kissed Lark. It was a night I'll never forget either.
I open her bag and spot the gift right away. It's a rectangular box wrapped in white paper with a red ribbon and bow. "Do you want to open your gift first, baby?"
"No." She shakes her head. "I'm so nervous, Ryker. Please just open it."
I do. I rip it open quickly, the paper flying in the air, ribbon dangling from my fingers. I pull the lid off the box and smile immediately. Fuck. Just fuck. This woman is everything.
"Nellie told me that when you used to work here when you were a teenager that you insisted on having your own ice cream scoop. She said you wouldn't let anyone else touch it. You carved your name in the handle."
Her red-tipped fingernail runs over the smooth wood of the handle of the ice cream scoop and my name etched out by my own teenage hand in uneven lettering.
"Where did you get this, Lark?"
She looks up at me, her gray eyes locked on my face. "Your grandmother kept it in a box in the back. When she told me the story about the scoop on New Year's Eve, I asked if she still had it. Last week I asked one of the drivers that Crew uses to pick me up so I could pick up Nellie and bring her here. We spent a couple of hours in the back going through the boxes until I found it."
She did that for me? She dug into my past to find something that no one would see as meaningful but me. The scoop was part of my identity here. It was a symbol of the hard work and dedication that my grandparents instilled in me. I thought it was gone. I'd broken the handle one afternoon and the next day when I went to pick up the scoop from the drawer behind the counter it was gone. "Where was I when you two were on this treasure hunt?"
"At Matiz. You were in a meeting with Crew."
"That bullshit meeting? The one where he talked about pizza and beer for almost two hours?"
"That's the one. I asked him to keep you busy."
"The handle was cracked and the metal tarnished so I had it fixed up so you can use it again now when you work the counter."
I kiss her with a need I haven't felt before. I love her. I fucking love Lark Benton more than I love anything in this world.
"Thank you, baby," I whisper against the smooth skin of her cheek. "I love it."
"Good," she replies softly. "I want you to love everything I give you."
"Let me give you something now." I take her by the hand leading her to the counter and the gift that I had made for her.
She eyes the envelope. "What's that?"
"You'll open that after you open this." I pick up the box and hand it to her.
"It's heavy." She furrows her brow. "Is it a book? Did you buy me that new Nicholas Wolf novel?"
She's recently fallen in love with his work. She bought herself every book he's ever written in early January. She brought one of the books to my place with the intention of reading it each night before she fell asleep. I never let her have the chance. I'd take her after she crawled into bed, giving her the pleasure I know she craves and taking mine from her. The book was a permanent fixture in my apartment for weeks before she finally took it to her apartment to read during the nights she stayed there.
I started tracking his release schedule then and when he announced he was doing a book signing in Times Square a few weeks ago to celebrate his latest book, I stood in the freezing cold in a long-ass line to get a copy signed personally for her. I told Crew about it and that's when he decided to share the fact that he knows the guy. They went to high school together so the next time he releases anything, I have Crew's word that he'll get me a signed copy.
The copy I did get signed is wrapped and waiting for her on the bed in my apartment.
"It's not a book, Lark."
"Is it a brick?"
I try not to let my anxiety show. I've never gotten a woman a gift before, other than my mom or grandmothers. It was always easy with them. This was different. I didn't have a lot of time when I picked out Lark's birthday gift, but this time I had weeks. I planned this, found someone to help me bring it to life and now I'm about to see her reaction. "Lark, I need you to open it now. Please just open it."
She nods. "All right. I'll love it, Ryker. Whatever it is, I'm going to love it."
She places the box back on the counter before she carefully pulls on the corner of the ribbon. I want to rip the wrapping paper off of it and pull the box open, but it's her gift. I bite on the nail of my thumb while I tap the toe of my shoe on the floor.
Her heels rise as she stands on her tiptoes and peers into the open box. A piece of red tissue paper flies out and then her hands dart to her mouth. "Ryker, it's beautiful."
It is. I thought the same and I'm no judge. I didn’t look to anyone for guidance, so I've been running on hope. I need this to take her breath away. I want her to understand where my heart is and this is the way to do it.