Because despite everything, the truth is, I am lucky.
The luckiest girl in the world.
Not because I got a job when I needed it, or because I sold a painting, or I found a four-leaf clover, or even because I made two grand at a craps table.
But because I have everything I could want.
THIRTY-SIX
I dip my head, kissing June, and when she returns it, relief moves through me.
Tonight could have gone so, so badly. Terribly even.
But somehow, she understands.
Somehow, I think she’s going to forgive me.
I press her back to the door, and her hands begin to shift, tugging at my shirt, moving up under it, kissing me with the same need that’s been simmering under my skin. It’s part liquor and part relief and part pure endorphins that have both of us going crazy, I’m sure, but I don’t inspect any of it too closely. My hand moves down her ass, gripping each cheek hard and pulling her into me, making her moan into my mouth. In her heels, she’s a bit taller, easier to kiss, making me think about turning her around, hiking that tiny skirt up to her waist, and sinking in deep. Who needs a bed or even a couch? The entryway will do just fine.
But then I remember the plan.
The clock in the small kitchen reads 12:14, and I remember I have a plan. So instead of fucking her like I want, I begrudgingly and with a bit of pain, pull away.
“Get your pajamas, I have a surprise for you,” I murmur, smiling at the pouty look on her face.
“Is it your dick?” she asks, and I let out a laugh, something I do a lot more often with June in my life. “Because that’s what I really want right now.” I hesitate for one long moment, contemplating throwing the plan aside, but my woman loves whimsy and magic, and I’ll be damned if I don’t give it to her on her most magical day of the year.
“Not yet,” I say with a laugh, stepping further away to maintain my defenses.
“But it’s my birthday,” she whines.
“I know, lady luck. Now go get some comfies on. Wash your face. Give me…” I think, unsure before committing to a time. “Five minutes.”
“Graham—” I pull her into me, pressing my lips to hers quickly to cut off her protest before stepping away again.
“June, please.”
She grimaces, but must see something on my face, because she sighs and nods, then shuffles off to the bedroom, kicking off her heels as she goes.
Once the bedroom door clicks closed behind her, I move with a mission.
Quickly and quietly, I head for the kitchen and smile at the small heart-shaped cake in the fridge the hotel staff delivered while we were out. On the counter are matches, and I dig into the cabinet, pulling out the candles I brought. Three twisty rainbow ones, as bright and sunshiney as the birthday girl herself, as well as a glittering number 2 and 7. Pressing them into the cake, I grab it and move through the hotel room to the large coffee table, one of the main reasons I actually upgraded to this room, and set it on the center. I sit on one side of the coffee table awkwardly before calling her in.
“You can come in, June,” I say. Instantly, I hear her bare feet padding on the floor, eager to see her surprise as I begin lighting the candles. I’m just finishing lighting the 7 when she stops in the doorway, eyes wide. I smile, warmth spreading through my chest at the look on her face. She’s wearing a tiny light blue tank top with matching shorts, delicate lace along the edges, a sliver of her belly revealed, no bra, her hair up in a messy bun atop her head, and somehow, in the five minutes I was in here, she washed her face clean of makeup.
She’s never looked more beautiful.
She’s never looked more like June,myJune.
“Happy birthday, lady luck,” I murmur when she stays quiet. “Come, sit.” I tip my chin to the other side of the low coffee table. Apprehensively, she moves into the living area, her eyes shifting from me to the cake, awe and shock written clear across her face. Somehow, it’s even better than the excited face she gets when something lucky happens, which is a relief since I think I’ll want to put this one on her face even more.
“Graham,” she says, shaking her head. “My birthday is tomorrow.” I smile.
“It’s after midnight. It’s your birthday.” Her eyes go wide. “Sit.”
“On the coffee table?” she asks, confused when I nod, but does as I ask all the same.
“Isn’t that how it goes?”
