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“I did, and a few other things.”
The nights I’d spent in Alessandra’s apartment, I took mental notes about her space. She didn’t have a lot ofstuff. It wasn’t that she was completely minimalist. Rather, she didn’t buy things just to fill a room. Each item in her home served a purpose. From the sparse yet eclectic art on the walls to the books on her shelves to the decorative pillows and throw blankets on the couch and bed.
I pour myself a small amount of wine before corking the bottle. Sip the sweet, earthy drink and hum in appreciation. Then dig in the bag for the next item. A jasmine-and-lavender-scented candle with a handwritten label and twine around the jar neck. I unscrew the mason jar lid, bring it to my nose, then offer for her to smell it. She leans in and inhales the subtle fragrance and hums.
“Like it?”
She nods then pretends to peek into the bag. “What else is in this bag of goodness?”
A smile tips one corner of my mouth at the lifting of her spirit. My hand dives back into the bag and comes out with a paper-wrapped bath bomb and a small book. She unwraps the paper and a hint of a smile appears. “This is almost too pretty to use. Almost.” She winks then tips her head toward the book. “What’s that?”
“A small collection of poetry. Something to lift you up when you have a bad day.” I hand her the book.
She flips through the pages and stops on one. Reads the small poem on the page. Tears rim her eyes but don’t fall down her cheeks. She looks up from the pages and locks her blues with my ambers. “I love this,” she whispers. “So much. Thank you.”
I cup her cheek and lean in to kiss her forehead. “Glad you like it.” I straighten and go back to the bag. “One more thing.”
“Really?” she asks, voice laced with excitement.
Slipping my hand under the box, above an ice pack, I turn the bag and wrangle the box free. Her eyes widen at the logo on the top of the box—Harvey’s Homemade Candies. She inches closer to me, her fingers fumbling to take the box. I set it on the counter and slowly open the lid.
Her gasp bounces off the walls. “No. You. Didn’t,” she says in disbelief.
I press my lips to her forehead again. “Yes. I did.”
In the box is an assortment of decorated, chocolate-covered bananas, cherries, and strawberries. Pink and white, light and dark brown. Nuts and sprinkles. Hearts and little animal faces on the bananas. They look too good to eat. Almost.
In a flash, Alessandra slams into me and hugs the air from my lungs. “Can’t believe you did all this.” Her arms constrict more. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
Wrapping my arms around her middle, I tap her. “Can’t breathe.”
She releases me in an instant. “Sorry.”
I pull her back into me, frame her face with my hands, and drop my lips to hers. “Never apologize. Not for this.” I chuckle. “Just make sure I have air.”
Light laughter fills the room and it magnifies the warmth in my chest. I want all her laughter and smiles. Want to be the one to lift her up on the days she feels low. Want to be more than just some guy from Seattle that warms her sheets. More than anything, I want to warm her heart too.
Swiping the bath bomb and candle from the counter, I wander toward her bedroom.
“What’re you doing?” Light footsteps pad behind me.
“Starting the bath.” I peer over my shoulder as I turn into her bedroom. “Grab the box and your wine. Bring it in here.”
Without another word, she scurries off and I enter the bathroom. I crank the water for the oversized tub, plug the drain, and let it fill. In a drawer on the bathroom vanity, I find the lighter I saw when looking for toothpaste during one of my overnighters. I light the candle and set it on the ledge near the tub.
Exiting the bathroom, Alessandra enters and gives me a big smile. “Be right back.” I head to the kitchen for my glass and the poetry book.
When I return, she is in the bathroom, stripping off her clothes. The bath bomb has been tossed in the water and fizzes away. The box of chocolate confections is sitting on a stool next to the tub. Her wineglass on the same ledge as the candle. For five deep breaths, I simply watch her move. Nothing sexual, I just observe.
As the last of her clothes hits the floor, I step into the room. Set my glass and the book down. Peel my shirt over my head and toss it in the same pile as her clothes. Unzip my pants and shove them down, along with my underwear, then kick them aside. Wine and book in hand, I pad across the room to the tub. She straightens in the water, making room for me to sit behind her. I set my glass and the book by hers then relax in the warm water. She turns the faucet off then leans back and settles her back to my front.
For a beat, neither of us says a word. My eyes fall shut as my arms band her waist. Her fingers trace my skin and we just breathe each other in.
“Braydon?” she whisper-asks.
“Yeah?”
She shifts and tips her head back. “Thank you.” The two words barely audible.
