“I fear you’re the first.”
“Well, aren’t I lucky?” She giggles, this time the sound doesn’t feel like its masking sadness. It feels genuine. Relaxed.
Taking full advantage of her cuddled up on me, my mouth nears the crown of her head, and with my lips ghosting over it, I mouth in silence,‘No, I’m the lucky one’just as the overhead speaker sounds with the pilot letting us know that we’re about to take off.
Safety instructions follow as my mind drifts to the amount of work that awaits me in my briefcase. All with urgent deadlines, immediately needing my attention, but I don’t want to do any ofit. I don’t want to move. I’d much rather stay like this, with her close to me.
She looks and feels like a Sunday morning. Effortlessly beautiful and a much-needed reprieve from the demands of work week.
This is the most casual I’ve seen her dressed, in her leggings and zip up hoodie. And it has my mind reeling. Seeing her like this has me daydreaming about slow mornings cuddled up on the couch with a cup of coffee. Wishing that we had more of these kinds of moments where we can be without all the noise.
I was more than willing to ignore the workload I have, but mid-flight she reminded me of an upcoming deal that’s time sensitive, so begrudgingly we grab our laptops.
Work occupies the remainder of the time that we’re in the air, and it seems to have distracted her enough that her nerves have eased. Though they kick right back up again when the pilot announces our descent, and it continues, reaching a peak as we leave baggage claim with our luggage to head to the rental car kiosk.
She stops abruptly in the middle of the airport. People swarm all around us, hurrying about with no care. I guide us over to the side so we don’t get trampled by the sea of travelers.
“What’s wrong?”
Her chest rises and falls, increasing in frequency.
“Breathe.”
I take a deep breath in, and she follows suit, until her rapid breathing slows to normal.
“Sorry. That was embarrassing.”
“Stop that. You’re not made of stone. You’re allowed to have feelings.”
“Feelings? Yuck. Who needs those?” She deflects, with a dramatic shudder.
Angling her chin upward, I gently cup it in my palm, stroking it with my thumb, taking it as my opportunity to signal to her that with me she doesn’t have to be nervous. With me, she will always be safe.
“I really meant it when I said my dad is a complete asshole.” It’s said so matter-of-factly that I can’t help but laugh.
“Don’t laugh,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes.
“Sorry, it’s just that you’re saying that as if it’snewnews.”
“No, I mean it. However big of an asshole you think he is, times it by ten.”
I hold up both hands, spreading my fingers and wiggling them, trying to ease her worries with some slight humor. “By ten, huh?”
“Yep.”
Lowering my hands, I reach for her free one, inching it close to my mouth.
“What are you doing?”
My lips graze her skin, pressing a kiss against it. “Letting my wife know that it’s okay and she doesn’t need to worry about me.”
“Well, I am.”
“Which, my wife or worried?” I ask, peppering another kiss onto her hand.
“Both.”
“I’m used to working with assholes every day, so I’ll be right at home,” I joke, but the playfulness is lost on her.
