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"Come on up." I pressed nine to let him in.
Anticipation and excitement whipped through me as I waited for the guy to walk around the building to my front door. What on earth did Devon have in mind?
I paced in the living room that I had straightened up earlier. Yep, I had gone a little crazy. Cleaned up the place. Makeup on. Hair did. Even actual cute clothes instead of my usual hang-around-the-house comfy stuff.
The knock on the door startled me, and I ran to the peephole to see a man holding a bunch of stuff in his hands. Huh. Okay. Normally, I wouldn't open the door. But I knew Devon was behind all of this, so I knew it was safe.
As I creaked open the door, my eyes tried to take everything in at once. The man's smile, the big bag he was holding in one hand, flowers in the other. Oh, God, he wasn't going to sing, was he?
"These are for you from your fiancé," he said. "He wants you to call him right away."
Awkwardly, he passed everything to me while I tried to grab it all. "Hold on."
I rushed to put it all on the table and reached for the money I had stashed in my back pocket for a tip. "Thank you," I said.
"Thank you. Have a great night."
Closing the door behind him, my phone rang, and I saw that it was Devon on FaceTime. Wasn't I supposed to call him? I laughed as I answered.
"Hey, happy anniversary of our first date," he said.
Oh, shoot. I'd completely forgotten, just like I did last year. But Devon remembered. My heart.
"Aw, baby, you're the best," I gushed.
His gorgeous smile lit up my phone, and there was a little chest flutter. I was full of those today. Maybe I needed to go to a cardiologist or something. Maybe I had some kind of irregular heart rate.
Devon interrupted my inner monologue of worry. "Why don't you check out what's in the bag?"
So I did. And he'd somehow managed to fill it with all of my favorites—pad thai from the restaurant we'd gone to on our first date, a single red velvet cupcake, ice cream, plus several bottles of my favorite pinot grigio.
Perfect. Just perfect. I loved him so much. So damn much.
For the next several hours, we ate together, drank, and talked about everything just like I loved doing with him. Even though it was late on the East Coast, he insisted on watching a movie together.
At one point, he was distracted, though, by a text from our wedding planner. What the heck? I wanted to question him about it and ask why she was texting him so late, but he shrugged it off and told her he'd get back to her tomorrow.
Back off, bitch. I'm on a date with my man.
And I might have consumed a whole bottle of wine all by myself. And I was well into the second bottle. So, you know, she really needed to watch out.
Eventually, I calmed down and continued watching our film. I noticed Devon was downing the wine as well, and I worried about what kind of day he'd have tomorrow at work.
When the movie was over, Devon shocked me by saying something I never thought I'd hear from him. "So, baby, you want to move this thing into the bedroom?"
"What?" I gasped. "Are you serious?"
He grinned, nodding, and I wondered exactly how drunk we both were. Maybe that was what we needed, though, to make this happen.
So I did what he had suggested and made my way to the bedroom, taking the lit candle from the coffee table with me. Even with the massive amount of wine in me, I needed some dim lighting, especially because I wasn't exactly sure how this was going to work.
Devon moved to his bedroom as well, propping up his phone on a nightstand it looked like. So I did the same.
"So what are you wearing?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.
"Oh, my God, that's so typical!" I couldn't help laughing, and he joined in.
"We're going to laugh our way through this, aren't we?" he said.
