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Simon rushes on.
“You don’t have to say anything. I know you might not be there yet, I was going to tell you later, but sitting here with you understanding me in a way I don’t understand myself and it just spilled out.”
He sounds so nervous, almost scared, I lean over to place a kiss on his lips to silence him.
I withdraw slightly to look into the eyes I love more than any other pair in the world.
“I love you, too, Simon. So much. How could I not, baby? Look at how gorgeous my life has been since I met you.”
He leans forward to kiss me while his hand slips to the back of my head. It goes from a sweet kiss, to his tongue stroking mine with a fervor that has me whimpering. Simon pulls back a bit so that our kiss is one of just lips nibbling and stroking.
“Addie, I could kiss you forever.” He mumbles against my mouth.
It’s wonderful being in Paris, where lovers kissing passionately doesn’t cause anyone to blink an eye.
Simon pulls back. “If we don’t stop, I’m going to take you back to the hotel and fuck you for the rest of the night. And then we’d miss seeing Cara and you’d blame me.”
“Just a little bit longer, Simon,” I plead
“Addie, we can’t be late tonight. The tickets were almost impossible to get.”
I roll my eyes. “Simon, I won’t be late. I’ll be faster than you.”
His laughter is spontaneous and mirthful. “Please, don’t lie. I don’t want to be struck by lightning. I can’t count the number of times we’ve missed the opening scenes of movies because of you.”
“Well, if you’re so worried, why are you sitting here running your mouth? Let’s go get dressed Speedy Gonzalez.”
And the man of my dreams stands up, takes my hand, and leads me out of the place where we had exchanged our first “I love you.”
We stop at the scenic entrance and take a selfie. In it, my head is tucked into his shoulder, his head is on top of mine. Our eyes are looking straight at the camera.
This picture will come to be the thing I cling to in the months to come. Simon, looking like he thinks he has found paradise. And me looking like I know I have.
November 29, 2014
When we arrive back at our room, Addie is talking a mile a minute about our evening out. Cara’s debut performance is tonight and we are here to lend our support.
She doesn’t notice the packages waiting on the bed. In fact, she walks right past them into the bathroom.
“I hope the dress I brought is nice enough. I mean, the ballet in London is a lot more casual than it is here. And I’m best friends with one of the Etoiles of the ballet.”
She comes back out of the bathroom, and I am momentarily distracted by her near nudity. I am drawn out of my admiration of her curvy ass by a squeal. “Simon, oh my goodness! What is this?!” She finally sees the pile of boxes and bags on the bed.
About a month ago, Addie told me how on her first day of at work at LaSalle and Willis she wore a blouse by a young Nigerian-German designer whose work she admired tremendously, but could only rarely afford.
So, when we planned this trip, I found the designer. She only makes bespoke clothing, so I commissioned a dress for Addie especially for tonight. She had all of Addie’s measurements from making the blouse, so it was actually pretty easy.
The designer’s team also picked out shoes and accessories and had everything delivered to the hotel a few days ago. Our butler had it delivered to the room while we were out.
Addie rips the packaging apart with an enthusiasm that absolutely delights me. There is nothing artificial about this woman. She is unabashed in her excitement.
“Simon.” She sings my name as she holds the dress against her and twirls.
She runs to me and throws her little body at me, wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck.
“You spoil
me. This entire trip has been amazing. This hotel, the day you planned, and now this dress and those shoes. Thank you. No one has ever treated me like this. I can’t believe how happy I am.”
