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“You are a terrible liar.” I laughed as he towed me towards the front of his place. The squat converted warehouse sat between two considerably larger buildings, giving it shelter from most of the weather on two sides, but with a south-facing facade it always managed to catch the sun.
“Sort of.”
“Clarify.”
“We were always going to be at this general location, we’ve just moved from the outdoors to indoors. How about I show you?”
“Lead the way.”
Mack’s home was one of those places that belonged on the pages ofArchitectural Digest.Like Rudi Blue, it had been some kind of factory in a previous life, then left alone for years before being given a new identity as an apartment. You probably could have fit four or five in the building, instead it was just Mack and an inappropriately large garage given the location, which housed his also inappropriately large car along with two motorcycles and a vintage, cherry-red Vespa, which I was always threatening to steal. I had no idea how to ride the thing, but it could just sit in my living room and I’d stare at it because it was so shiny and gorgeous.
We entered through the garage and I blew a kiss at Ms Vespa.
“You know I could teach you how to ride it.”
“No, thank you, that would only ruin the mystique. I just want to look at her.” I cast a glance over my shoulder before we stepped inside the loft apartment.
And I promptly stopped dead.
Mack’s place was open, light, and airy and, despite how much I loved my own apartment, his made it feel like a dark and dingy hobbit hole in comparison. Today, though, it was something else altogether. Huge swathes of sheer white fabric hung from the beams that ran the length of the ceiling. They all pooled at the floor around a tent that looked like a perfect upside down waffle cone.
I glanced up at Mack who was watching me take it all in with a soft smile on his face. I wanted to say something, but I wasn’t sure I had words.
The front of the tent was open wide. Inside it was a pile of coziness, the likes of which I had never seen; there were blankets, pillows, and cushions arranged in a half circle around a large picnic basket, all lit by the soft light diffused by the draping fabric. My eyes prickled and my nose burned, but I refused to cry. Even though this was the most effort anyone had ever gone to for me on a date. Or ever, really.
I cleared my throat and stepped closer to the front of the tent, wanting nothing more than to dive in, headfirst, and snuggle down for the rest of the day and night. Leaving to go to Rudi later was going to be a serious struggle.
“It was supposed to be up on the roof,” Mack started, coming up beside me. “I nearly still went for it, but if it kept on snowing the way it was…” A shrug. “Plus, I wasn’t sure if this thing was actually weatherproof—I’m guessing not—and putting any kind of decent heating device inside a canvas tent didn’t seem like the best idea. So, I improvised.”
I swallowed against the emotions climbing my throat and croaked out, “It’s perfect.”
“Really?” His nerves settled mine.
“Are you kidding me? Yes, it’s fucking perfect! Look at it! You made us a nest!”
He laughed. “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but yeah, I guess I did.”
I turned, grabbed his neck and pulled his face down to mine. “I love it,” I said against his mouth before kissing him hard. I only meant it to be brief, I had pillows to collapse onto, but he clearly had other ideas. One hand cupped the back of my head as his tongue swept into my mouth. My heart beat hard behind my ribs as my fingers pushed off his beanie and tangled themselves in his hair. He stood straight, arms now locked around my back, my feet dangling above the floor and walked the couple of steps into the tent of cozy, depositing me inside.
“Stay,” he said, like I had any intention of moving ever. He was going to have to drag me out of this place kicking and screaming. I would leave only to use the bathroom, and then I would come right back. I lived here now.
After a couple of minutes he reappeared at the mouth of the tent (my new home) with a large mug in each hand. Crouching to come inside, he handed me one.
“Do we have a hot cocoa theme happening?”
A sly smile curved his lips. “This is not your ordinary, innocent hot cocoa.” As soon as he said it, a waft of whiskey hit my nose and I took a sip, warmth tracking down my throat and into my stomach. Oh yes.
“That’s really fucking good.”
“Not too heavy handed on the whiskey?”
“Is there such a thing as too heavy handed with whiskey?”
“Not in this tent, I guess,” he said, as we watched one another over the rims of our mugs.
This was both completely natural and utterly surreal. Usually, on a date you were getting to know the other person. Where they grew up. Their favorite restaurant. Whether they accepted pineapple on their pizza. Did they think Lebron had eclipsed Jordan as the best basketball player of all time (no, obviously. The originalSpace Jamwas superior, too). But I knew all that, and more, about Mack. And he about me.
“You remember Tatiana Marcus?” he asked, breaking the silence. Despite not having any idea where this was going, I nodded.
