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“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“When we get to hell, we’re dancing together. We need our time with the Bourne brothers.”
40
Birdie
* * *
“What about putt putt?” I say as I smooth balm over Winter’s beard early on the Saturday after he came home from Brisbane. We’ve had nearly a whole week of starting our days like this. Well, that is, after he wakes me up with his mouth to my pussy exactly how he promised on Christmas day.
He groans and takes hold of my hips. “You know I hate mini golf. Why do you want to torture me with it, angel?”
I smile, loving the knowledge that he would play it with me if I pushed him to. I won’t, but it makes me feel loved knowing he’d do it. “It was just an idea. What do you want to do?”
We’re figuring out what we’re going to do on our date this afternoon. Our first real date in forever. I’m so excited for this time with him that I wouldn’t care if we went to the airport and watched planes take off. I’ve heard that’s a thing for some people. It sounds boring as hell to me, but if I did it with my husband, it would be a great afternoon.
Asking Winter what he wants to do on a date is like asking him the hardest question in the world. If he had his way, our dates would all take place in our bed. He surprises me, though, when he says, “How about we take in some live music? I saw there’s a band playing at the pub this afternoon.”
“Ooh, yes! We could have some drinks, and you can dance with me.” I grin. “I’ll allow that.”
He chuckles. “I’m clearly a lucky bastard if you’ll allow me to dance with you.”
I loop my arms around his neck. “You really are. Don’t you forget that.”
My phone rings and I glance at it on the vanity as Winter lets me go and says, “We’ve got ten minutes before we have to leave.”
I grab my phone, eager to talk to my bestie. “So that means we’ve actually got twenty minutes, right?”
“Ten minutes. After that, I’m confiscating the phone.”
“You know I like bossy Winter. Maybe I’ll talk for eleven minutes.”
“Fuck,” he swears and brushes his lips over mine before leaving me.
I answer the call, smiling at Cleo through the phone. “Babe, tell me how you went! Tell me everything!” Cleo and Mark went to their first salsa dance class last night, and I’ve been hanging out to hear how it went. I’m thinking Winter and I should find a class, too.
“Let’s just say salsa is not the dance for my husband.”
“Oh no. He didn’t love it?”
“He tried, but it’s a no from me. Like, a big, fat no in all shouty caps. At one point, I thought I was going to trip over his feet that he didn’t have in the right place.”
I laugh at the way she describes the experience. “Well, at least you gave it a go. What’s next on the list?” Cleo has a list of things she wants them to do together. So far everything they’ve tried has been a bust, either because one of them was bored or one of them didn’t love it.
“Well, we’ve crossed out ballroom dancing, Crossfit, rowing, archery, tennis, rock climbing, and now salsa. I think we’re ready to take binge drinking back up and call it a day.”
“Might be hard with a kid and all.”
“Why do you have to shoot down all my good ideas? So, tell me, are you guys ready for your counselling session this morning?”
It’s our first one. Winter agreed to it after he got home from Brisbane. I’d been ready for a big discussion about it, thinking he wouldn’t be keen, but he said yes straight away.
“I don’t know if ready is the right word, but we’re doing it. I’m ready for what it will hopefully do for us.”
Since he’s been home, we’ve only briefly talked about the hard stuff; I haven’t wanted to push us too fast. I hope he’ll be okay with the therapy session today. My heart is already hurting for him. I’ve been slowly working through my grief and hurt, so I kinda know what to expect. I’m not sure Winter is aware of just how much there is to be unpacked.
“I’m so proud of you guys. Knowing everything you’ve been through, and seeing you still standing together and admitting you need help; it’s not every couple who fights for their love like you do.”
