“It’s okay. Look, fresh page. I'll draw cows again,” I bluff, looking out toward the fields.
This time however, I sketch a scene of Marco and his long-lost mother.
Backs turned, side by side, they walk beneath the stars.
???
By the time we reach Charleville, the sun is taking a bow to make way for an inky sky.
“Eight hours on the road feels longer when it's mostly flat and straight,” I yawn.
He leans close.
“Would you like the good news or...?”
“Or?” I ask cautiously.
“We're barely half way,” he laughs. “Another eight hours tomorrow.”
“Oh.”
Turning onto Wills Street, we park in front of reception.
“At least the motel is modern and comfy, the food is divine, and…” he whispers as though it’s a secret, “...two blocks from here they have a thirty inch Dobsonian telescope.”
I nod with reverence as though I have any clue what that means.
But the pure delight in his eyes as he says it?
That’s all I need to know.
“I'll sort the room. You book the tickets?” I smile.
And soon I return with a key in my hand.
Grabbing both suitcases from the back of the truck, I haul them inside.
The cottage is super cute, even though we’re both too tall for the bed.
Marco climbs on top of me, heated lips tracking a path across my chest.
“Thank you for today,” he says. “For getting me this far.”
“Bub, you were strong enough to get yourself this far. I’m just doing what boyfriends...”
My thought goes unfinished.
Three guesses why.
Between sheet romps and a quick bite to eat, there are only a few minutes to spare.
“They named the street Milky Way,” he laughs, as we run toward the entrance of the planetarium.
“Take a left through that door,” gestures the attendant. “We'll be starting shortly.”
???
Feet dangling over the edge of the bed, we lay in each other's arms.
