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Jeffrey chuckles a hint of nostalgia in his voice.
“I also remember how you got back at the housekeeper, too. You thought it would be funny to switch the sugar and saltshakers during dinner. You gave everyone a tough time.”
I burst into laughter at the memory, the weight of the years melting away as if we were transported back in that time.
“I had completely forgotten about that!” I say.
Jeffrey chuckles when he hears this.
“You were always full of surprises,” he remarks, his eyes dancing with amusement.
“I wasn’t that mischievous,” I grin.
“Oh, we both know you were,” he says before we burst into laughter while sharing a knowing look. I can’t remember the last time I went down memory lane like this. It feels so natural with Jeffrey. It feels as if the lost years never happened.
“We can go on and on about those times, but we better eat before it gets cold,” he suggest.
“Sure,” I grin before we dive into our meal. Throughout the dinner, I find it hard to take my eyes off. Eventually, our plates are cleared.
“That was delicious,” I tell Jeffrey.
“I’m glad you love it. But there is more,” he says, a mysterious glint in his eyes that I can’t explain. As if on cue, the soft music comes to closer, I feel my heart skips a beat. I turn to see four men holding musical instruments, realizing that Jeffrey must have arranged for a private band. Surprised, I glance at Jeffrey. Just when I thought the night was coming to an end.
He stands up and extends his hand toward me, excitement twinkling in his eyes.
“May I have this dance?”
I smile, unable to do anything other than place my hand in his, feeling a surge of warmth from his touch.
“Of course,” I reply, my voice barely more than a whisper.
We step onto the impromptu dance floor on the sandy beach, guided by the soft music and the soothing sounds of the waves. His hand rests on my waist, mine on his shoulder. With every step, every sway, feels like a moment frozen in time. Memories of our first dance by the lake in Sausalito flood my mind. This moment feels like a replica of that beautiful memory.
“You know,” Jeffrey murmurs, his voice a velvet caress.
“I’ve always loved dancing with you.” His words flutter my heart, carrying an underlying meaning that dances just beneath the surface. It’s as if he’s expressing love beyond the mere act of dancing.
I manage a soft smile, my voice trembling as I reply.
“I’ve always loved dancing with no one else but you, too.”
As we move together, the world fades away, leaving only the two of us swaying to the sweet rhythm of the music. His gaze never wavers from mine. His eyes holding unspoken words.
The music plays throughout the night, but it feels like such a brief moment.
“Phebe,” Jeffrey whispers as one song ends, and our dance continues seamlessly with the next. The band starts playing another song. Looking into Jeffrey’s eyes brings bittersweet memories of how I had imagined us dancing together until we grew old.
Tears shimmer in my eyes as I reflect on the irony of it all. This moment feels surreal, like a dream come true, and I’m overwhelmed by its significance. The boy I fell in love with so many years ago has evolved into a man who holds my heart.
Resting my head against his chest, I hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—the same rhythm that resonates with me. I close my eyes, savoring the feeling of his arms around me, the warmth of his presence, and the undeniable truth that, against all odds, we’ve found our way back to each other. The only uncertainty lies in whether he still loves me or if his actions stem from pity.
* * *
A smile playson my lips as I walk down the hallway. I’ve already checked the living room for Jeffrey, but he is nowhere to be found. Ever since that surprise dinner five days ago, I’ve felt even stronger connection to Jeffrey. My heart feels lighter, as if a weight has been lifted off my chest in these past few weeks. Jeffrey has surprised me with his kindness, patience, understanding. It’s like he’s turned back the clock, showing me the side of him that I fell in love with those years ago. Now, all that left is to find a way to tell Jeffrey about our son, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.
Heading toward the kitchen, I hope Mrs. Brown can inform if Jeffrey has left the house. Disappointment washes over me when I see the empty kitchen. Just as I’m about to leave, I spot Mrs. Brown tending to vibrant flowers in the garden, her hands carefully nurturing each one. I open the back door and step outside. Initially engrossed in her work, she doesn’t notice me at first.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Brown,” I greet her with a warm smile, catching her attention. She pauses her gardening and looks in my direction, a smile spreading across her face as she stands.
