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“Yes.”
Okay, we’re getting somewhere now. I’m beginning to narrow our destination down. And if there’s one sure way to get Bradford to give me what I want, I know what that way is.
I press my body to his and shamelessly rub myself against him. “What about cakes? Will there be cakes?”
He groans. “You don’t play fair, baby.” Then, he takes hold of my wrists so he can keep my hands from his dick. Because he knows from experience that that’s where they were going next. “And we’re done with this interrogation. All you can know is there will be donuts and it will be special.”
The elevator reaches the lobby and he holds my hand as he leads me out of the tower onto the sidewalk. He then turns right and we begin walking down the street.
“You’re making me walk there? In these heels?” God, I sound grumbly even to myself, but honestly, he could have given me warning that we’d be walking. I would have chosen better shoes.
“It’s not far.”
Okay, so there goes most of my theories about our destination. None of my favorite donut places are close.
“Bradford, I feel the need to educate you on what it’s like to walk in these heels.Not farwould be from the bedroom to the kitchen. Or from the elevator to the car. I mean, we have a fancy new car. Why are we not using it?”
He tightens his grip on my hand and practically pulls me along the street. “Consider me educated.”
I don’t believe him. I think he’s on some kind of mission and isn’t really paying too much attention to anything I’m saying. Which is highly unusual for him.
We cross at Seventh Avenue and walk down to Central Park. It’s a beautiful sunny day. Some of my grumpy mood disappears simply because of the sunshine. Children are laughing and parents are chasing them. There’s something infectious about a child’s laughter and it improves my mood some more.
We cross to the entrance of the park where people take horse and carriage rides. Bradford surprises me when he stops near one of the carriages and speaks with the man there. Then, he really surprises me when he ushers me toward a beautiful white carriage, making motions with his arms that indicate he wants to help me into it.
“We’re going for a ride?”
“Yes.” When I look at him with confusion because this is not what I was expecting when he said there would be donuts, he leans in close and says, “Hurry, before it turns into a pumpkin.”
There’s something in the way he says this, or in the way he’s looking at me, or justsomething, that stirs all my butterflies. And those butterflies always make it so that when Bradford tells me to do something while under their influence, I do it.
I let him help me into the carriage and sit on the gorgeous red velvet seat. It’s at this point that I really look at the carriage and see the flowers on the front of it. Flowers that look very romantic.
When Bradford takes the seat next to me, I say, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were proposing to me today.”
He looks at me and there’ssomethingin his eyes, but before I can think more about that, and before he can respond to what I said, the carriage driver passes him a box that is wrapped in exquisite cream and gold paper and finished off with a beautiful gold bow. He thanks the driver who then takes his position on the seat up the front.
And then we’re off and within a couple of minutes, I’m in love with this way of experiencing the park. The rhythm of the horse, the gentle breeze brushing my face, the proximity of my husband.
I turn and find him watching me closely. My body lights up with the desire that has only increased since we were married. I didn’t think I could want Bradford more than I always had, but I was wrong. I want him in ways I’m still comprehending.
“What’s in the box?” I nudge my shoulder against his. “Is it a donut?”
His mouth doesn’t smile but his eyes do. He has a way with that kind of smile. I don’t think anyone else ever knows about half the smiles he gives me like this and that makes me feel so special. They’re just for me. For us.
He passes me the box. “Open it.”
I run my hands over the gold embossed wrapping paper and touch the bow. “It’s a big donut.”
Now his lips lift. “It’s not a donut.”
I pretend pout. “You promised me sugar.”
“Have I ever let you down?”
No, no he has not.
I carefully undo the bow. I sense I’m going to want to keep this ribbon. I don’t know how or why I feel that, but my butterflies are whispering very loudly to me, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned this year, it’s to listen to those whispers.
