His back was to me as he rifled through his overnight bag, but he turned to me when I touched his arm and asked him, “Do you want to talk about how you’re doing?”
“I’m doing great and looking forward to a wonderful night together. We won’t have this kind of privacy when we’re staying with my mom and stepdad, so let’s make the most of it.”
I didn’t understand how he could simultaneously seem so positive and believe he was facing impending doom, but his smile seemed perfectly genuine. I decided not to push.
Devon grabbed his toiletry case and said, “I’m going to take a shower. Want to join me?”
“Absolutely.”
Not surprisingly, showering together led to fucking against the bathroom wall. Later on, we put on pajamas, enjoyed a decadent meal from room service, and got comfortable in front of the gas fireplace. I worked on sketching an idea for a new gown while Devon played his acoustic guitar.
After a while, I forgot about the sketch and watched him instead. He was so beautiful. The need to get close to him was overwhelming, so I tossed aside my sketchpad and announced, “Incoming.” That made him grin.
He set aside the guitar, and I crossed the short distance between us and straddled his lap. I kissed him before picking up the instrument and asking, “Can you teach me how to play this?”
“Sure.” I sat between his legs and leaned against him, and he said, “Before I teach you the basics, you should experiment and get comfortable with it.” I cautiously plucked one of the strings, and he told me, “You don’t have to be that gentle with it.”
“I’m worried about damaging it.”
“You won’t.”
“I’d feel terrible if I did, though.”
“The worst you could do is break a string, but I have replacements. Give yourself permission to play around and have fun, Kit.”
I hesitated and admitted, “I’ve always been afraid of making mistakes, or doing something wrong. I wish I wasn’t like that.”
“Then go for it. Wail on that guitar! Everyone has a rockstar fantasy at one time or another, right? Let yours out.”
Why not? I got up, slung the strap around my neck, and gave the strings an experimental swipe. I did a few more, and then I got completely ridiculous with it, playing tunelessly but enthusiastically while striking various rock star poses. I announced, “Big finish,” whipping my head back and forth and strumming wildly before throwing my hands in the air.
Devon whooped and applauded, and when I set aside the guitar, he lifted me off my feet. I laughed and said, “That felt good.”
“I’m glad. Way to cut loose.”
I wrapped my arms and legs around him, and as he carried me to the bed I said, “I would have felt way too self-conscious to act that silly with anyone but you.”
“Thank you for trusting me with your inner goofball.”
He playfully tossed me onto the fluffy, white duvet and climbed up after me. His face was lit up with a radiant smile, so I told him, “I like seeing you so happy.”
“It’s all about living in the moment,” he said, as he gathered me into his arms. “And this moment is absolutely perfect.”
Devon was still in a great mood the next morning. He rolled out of bed, threw open the curtains, and launched into “Good Morning Baltimore” fromHairspray, which made me laugh.
After singing the opening bit and the chorus, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of bed. “Let’s get going,” he said. “I can’t wait to show you my hometown and introduce you to my mom and stepdad.”
We got dressed and checked out of the hotel, and then he took me to his favorite diner. It reminded me of my dad’s place, except that this one had already been restored to its glory days. I snapped a few photos to show my dad before tucking into a huge breakfast.
When we went to check out, Devon selected a cake with chocolate frosting from the bakery case by the cash register. I asked him about it as they boxed it up, and he said, “It’s a local favorite called a Smith Island cake—several thin layers of yellow cake with fudgy chocolate frosting in between. It’s pure nostalgia for me, because my mom would always make me one for my birthday. I thought it’d be nice to bring one home.”
Devon had been buying wine and regional treats for his mom and stepdad throughout our road trip, which we’d assembled into a huge gift basket. To round it out, we went to a gourmet market for a bunch of fancy cheeses, and to a bakery for a festive tray of holiday cookies. Our next stop was a florist, where we put together a gorgeous, Christmassy arrangement for his mom.
After that, he called his mother and casually asked about her plans for the day. It turned out she and her husband had stopped for brunch after meeting friends for a game of pickleball. Once he ended the call, he smiled at me and said, “Operation surprise Mom and Ed is a go. We should plan on getting there in about an hour. They’ll be home by then.”
“You call your stepdad by his first name?”
“Yeah. When he and my mom decided to get married, he made a point of telling me he’d never try to replace my father, and that I should keep calling him Ed. I’ve been doing that ever since, even though it feels off. He’s my dad in every way thatmatters, and I love him. But it’d be weird if I started calling him Dad now, after all these years.”
