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“Alright,” I agree, feeling myself relax only once she does.
The babies are never far from our minds, little Jessica the youngest and her older brother Luke. But an early show and a special dinner together, it’s like the first date we never really had.
“You think we could, y’know? Do this more often?” I ask her on the way home.
“Let’s just see how your dad coped, shall we,” she says optimistically.
“My dad?” I ask her. “Why is it whenever something might go wrong he’s my dad?” I ask, making us both chuckle.
“I had a great time, Conor,” she says truthfully, leaning into me on the ride home.
“I could get him to circle around the block?” I tell her, noting the privacy screen.
“Maybe next time, I’m beat,” she says with a yawn. I check my watch, wishing I’d checked in at least once.
Like David said though, if anything wasn’t going to plan, he’d let us know.
Let me know, those were his instructions.
I hear my breath catch as I see some vans pull away just as we turn the corner for home.
“Honey, what is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?” she asks, rubbing my leg and letting her hand ride a little higher. Telling me she might be feeling a little less bushed after all.
I growl gently in reply and kiss her neck. The driver only coming around to open her door once I let the privacy screen down.
Stepping out of the limo, I say goodnight to our driver, asking Rachel if maybe she’d like a turn around the block.
“Conor, what is going on?” she finally asks. “Half the night you’ve been trying to get me to go here or there. What have you been up to?” she asks, cocking her brow and snuggling up closer to me.
She always knows when I’m planning something, it’s so hard to keep anything a secret.
But I hope tonight’s been worth it.
“We will do this more often,” I promise her, meaning I haven’t just invented our anniversary to get us out of the house.
Not exactly.
Stepping inside I see the sitting room door is ajar, a light on.
The hallway and kitchen are all dark.
I get the faintest hint of new carpet, maybe a teensy smell of paint. But it’s nothing major.
Rachel doesn’t seem to notice, creeping into our own house like we’re a pair of teenagers.
“Why’s it so dark?” she whispers. “We’re not that late.”
The hallway brightens behind us, and her dad creeps out, tiptoeing as I flick the hallway light on.
He gives me a thumbs-up, which Rachel catches too.
“Alright you two, what’s going on?” she demands, both hands on her hips.
I shrug towards David, letting him know the game’s up.
“It’s nothing, sweetie. Just a little redecorating while you were out. The babies are asleep by the way,” he says with a wink.
“And Valentine?” I ask him, noting his head jutting toward the rear of the house.
“Well, let’s go take a look,” I suggest, taking my wife’s hand and opening the kitchen door, reaching for the switch to find it’s moved.
An automated light pulses to life, illuminating our new kitchen/sunroom area, purpose built for all things baby.
Rachel gasps impressed. She ooh’s and ah’s at the new layout, modern finish, and fixtures, as well as all the latest appliances.
“You made your life down here a lot easier, didn’t you?” she jokes but meaning it. I spend all the time I can making our meals and preparing things for the babies.
Anything to make Rachel’s job as Mommy easier.
“Did you change this too?” she asks, finding the newly changed door.
“Push the button and see,” I suggest, amazed I was able to keep this one a surprise since I had it installed while we were away this last week.
The heavy wood door slides to one side.
“A closet?” Rachel guesses, and I move over to it, taking her hand as we step inside.
“First floor, Babywear, pet supplies, and office,” I announce, hitting the panel with a selection of buttons.
“Going up to the second floor, Nursery, mommy and daddy’s room, bathroom and playroom.”
Rachel covers her mouth, figuring out it’s the best kind of closet.
But I’m taking us up to the third floor.
Rachel’s floor.
The elevator stops and the door slides open silently.
“Third floor, Rachel’s studio. Garden and rooftop access. A little world away from the world where you can invite I dunno, your husband?” I whisper in her ear, guiding her through the newly renovated rooms.
There’s her office slash studio. I know she’s been wanting to write and pen some kind of book.
An indoor greenhouse, which has stairs leading up to the roof where my old observatory sits, next in line for a renovation. Or maybe a pool. That’s up to Rachel.
“It’s beautiful,” she stammers, taking it all in with long, steps before we walk up the spiral stairs to the rooftop, looking out over the city at night.
