“Astra Luna Events, Marco speaking.”
That sexy fool carries a thick chunky planner with him everywhere he goes.
“It's almost the size of a phone book,” I tease, prying it carefully from his hands and setting it down.
“My whole life is in there,” he sighs. “I know I should go back to using a digital planner, but I've done things a certain way since I started this company. And I'm a creature of habit. I like order and routine.”
“You don't say,” I nudge him against the wall for a kiss. “And what would happen if we threw that planner over the balcony and did something spontaneous?”
“Hey, Iamspontaneous,” he lies.
“A quickie in the laundry doesn't count,” I laugh. “When's the last time you woke up without plans?”
I steal a peek at the colour coded grid as he takes another call.
Product launches. Private dinners.
Corporate bookings. Gallery openings.
The kind of life that sounds glamorous on the outside, but is mostly a blur of logistics and deadlines.
I know he loves it, but I really miss him.
We carve small pockets of time together whenever we can.
Marco finishes most events after midnight.
We stroll along Brisbane’s streets with takeaway ramen.
I nap half of Sunday to save my stamina for another night of sleepless passion.
But by sunrise, one of us is always dozing off or heading out the door.
Between mouthfuls of breakfast, he thumbs through his agenda.
“Weekends are out for the next few months. It's wedding season. Can you do Tuesday morning?”
“Really wish I could,” I kiss the back of his neck. “But I'm back to back until three thirty.”
Our schedules never seem to overlap.
I spend my days off surrounded by friends and family, but pining for my boy.
“It's almost like you're dating somebody long distance,” my sister Talia empathises.
I nod glumly.
Love via text message.
Sweet notes or sketches left on the fridge.
Hearts drawn on a foggy bathroom mirror by a ghost who has started leaving his toothbrush behind.
???
The only silver lining to all this is the constant flood of steamy, dirty photos.
One could be forgiven for assuming that Marco Adams never wears clothes when left unsupervised.
