Mr Spencer (Mr. 2) - Page 207
He shrugs. “Yeah. I would start the year off going mad and getting into trouble. My birthday is on the 31st of December, so I would spend the last day of every year waiting for him to call me.” He pauses and stares into space. “And then I’d spend the first day of every new year devastated that he hadn’t.”
“Your birthday is on New Year’s Eve?” I ask.
He smiles softly and nods. “That’s how the TTT trips started. As I grew older, I would go for a different reason.”
“What was the reason?” I reach over and take his hand in mine. “You can tell me. I won’t judge.”
“I thought I was broken. I never felt attached. I would meet all these great women and sleep with them, and then...” He shrugs. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Seriously, nothing. I would be in bed with them after sex, thinking about work and watching the clock tick to see when it was acceptable to leave without looking like a prick.”
I squeeze his hand and he gives me a sad smile.
“Every year it got worse. I began to beat myself up about being like him. I didn’t want to be near anyone on my birthday. I hated who I was becoming, and I would pretend to my family that I was away so I didn’t have to act happy.”
“Spence,” I whisper sadly. “So, you spent every New Years alone?”
“I did for a long time, until Masters’ wife died. Then Seb and I would spend it with him and the kids. He was in a darker place than I was.”
I smile softly. They are such good friends to look after each other. “What did you do last year?”
He smirks. “Played board games at Masters’ house. Such party animals.”
I pick up his hand and kiss the back of it again. “Can we come back here to Santorini for your birthday this year? We could bring Seb, Masters, and their family, if you like?”
He reaches over and cups my face in his hand, dusting his thumb over my bottom lip. “Do you know that I love you?”
I climb beside him on his deck chair and hold him tight. I get an image of him all alone for so many years on his birthday. New Year’s Eve! It makes me so sad.
“From now on it will be different, Spence,” I whisper as I hold him tight. “Now you have me, and I will never leave you alone.”
He crushes me to him and holds me close. “All this time, I thought I was broken. It turns out I was just waiting for you.”
My eyes fill with tears and we kiss. It’s long, tender, and perfect. “You should take me home for some intimate relations,” I whisper.
He smiles and his eyes widen. “Is it one day?”
“Don’t push your luck.”
* * *
We stumble into the bar on our last night in Santorini. It’s late, and we are messy. By messy, I mean we’ve had way too many cocktails and we’re laughing like fools.
Everything is hilarious.
I can’t remember ever being this relaxed and carefree. I don’t think I’ve looked in the mirror for three days. I don’t need to. Spencer makes me feel like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world just as I am.
I’m wearing a short yellow beach dress, with my hair down and messy. I have a red flower tucked behind one ear—a flower Spencer picked from a garden for me. He’s wearing a white linen shirt with the top buttons undone, and pink shorts with white hibiscus flowers on them. He’s also donning a bright green dinosaur cap that he bought for his niece.
The bar is practically empty, and there’s a one-man band playing on a small stage. He has a harmonica on a stand, a set of bongos, and a guitar. His long brown dreadlocks give him the ultimate hippy vibe, and his voice is beautiful.
Spencer’s eyes light up and he drags me to the dance floor. He grabs my hands, pushes me out, and then slams me back to his body. “I love this song.” He smiles down at me.
“I’ve never heard this before in my life.”
“Me neither.” He pushes me away and spins me again.
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