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The woman leaves the office, marching and slamming the door behind her. A few seconds pass, and then Melanie starts to laugh. Hard.
“Oh, my God,” she can barely talk. Her smile is so big that it threatens to break her beautiful face. “That was the most rad thing I’ve done. Ever.”
I can’t hold it anymore. I close the distance between us and kiss her smiling lips. “You’re a badass. I’m so proud of you.”
That’s true. I’m delighted, full of joy. Ecstatic.
When I was in rehab, there was a man who always was chantingthe best is yet to come. Since the moment Melanie came back into my life, I’ve become a believer. With this woman by my side, the future awaiting us will be brilliant.
“My tummy is still in knots,” her arms are around me, holding me close. As if I were going anywhere.
“Well, baby,” I say. “You need to recover quickly. Your new staff is waiting for you.”
She puts her hands around her face as containing the emotion. “Do you think I can do it?”
Another kiss, then a pat on that peachy ass, as encouragement. “For a woman like you, the word impossible doesn’t exist. Let’s go.”
An hour later, we are back in Melanie’s new office. I’ll take her out of here, so a team can clean the office and make it special for my girl. She deserves a good start and all the support to lead this entrepreneurship directly to the stars.
“Are you ready to celebrate?” I ask her while she opens and closes drawers around her working space.
“David, there is too much to do around here. I can’t just leave!” Her protests are weak, but with a little persuasion, I have her on board.
“A celebration is waiting for us, Ella,” I say when I take her to my car. “You can start making plans in the morning.”
She will be too busy tonight to process a single thought.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Melanie
“Where are we going?” I ask David. He’s driving with one hand on the wheel and the other on my thigh, as he always does. Touching me, holding me close.
“Somewhere special.”
“Are we heading to the rental cabin?” Are we picking up something?
“We need privacy,” he replies.
“Cryptic much?” Privacy means our son isn’t coming with us. My father picked Davi up earlier this morning, boasting about his plans for the whole day. He wants to hear Davi’s stories about the weekend with the Posadas.
“Come with me,” he offers me a hand after opening my door.
“You said we were going somewhere special. So why did you bring me home, David?”
He says nothing, pulls my hand and guides me to the front door.
The house looks exactly like we left it a few hours ago, at least as far as I can see at the lunatic speed David is ushering me to the patio.
What I find there knocks the wind out of me.
There is a little table for two under a pergola made of branches and green foliage. A bottle in a bucket full of ice and dishes covered with large silver domes are waiting over a pristine white tablecloth. The mountains where I’ve lived my whole life give the perfect background.
“Do you like it?” David asks me a minute later while I am still in silence, trying to absorb this beauty.
“Love it,” my words go out as a whisper. I don’t have enough air on my lungs to speak yet.
“Come with me.” Again, he laces our fingers together, guides me to the table, and helps me to sit before taking place in front of me.
