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But she looked at me the way I wanted her to look at me my whole life.
I’d thought about the words to say.
Well, no time like the present. I just took a deep breath and did it, “Will you move in with me, my beautiful lady? Live with me? Be with me in my big ol’ penthouse apartment, where I am now rattling around on my own and driving myself crazy when you’re not there?”
My speechless darlin’!
I dove back in with one big breath, “Bring all your bikinis and dancing shoes and there’s plenty of room for both pairs of Frye boots and we’ll buy all new kitchen stuff so you have whatever you want and you can redecorate anything your heart desires …”
She was whispering as I spoke, but I finally heard her, “Yes. Yes. Yes!”
My face went all happy, “Darlin’? Did I hear a little ‘Yes’ somewhere in there?”
“YES!” She shouted it.
We didn’t care that a couple other patrons looked up at us.
Jerry was busy with another commitment but donated his SUV to the cause. Samantha’s eye-rolling but deliriously happy brother helped us move her in that very weekend, on Sunday.
Samantha whispered, “He just wants to see your digs. He’s been dying of curiosity. I can guarantee he’ll be reporting back in detail to Jerry tonight!”
Closing day for the bakery. Opening salvo of—if I had my way—the rest of our lives together.
Samantha
My man insisted on celebrating my move-in. The following weekend on Sunday he had his whole clan and mine in his penthouse.
Or as he constantly corrected me, “It’sourplace.Ours. Yours and mine.”
We made it a smorgasbord. I made a ton of bread and all of the desserts and the starters. I used Leighton’s kitchen and had him racing around town and on the phone several times to find all the small equipment I needed and wanted.
Leighton made sure we had beverages for everyone's pleasure. Mom and Dad Peterson brought two main course meats. The sisters brought a big selection of vegetable dishes and Jerry made a gigantic raw fruit salad.
Roberta said, wisely, “I now declare my brother Leighton and Samantha’s house … warmed!” And she got a rousing round of “Here, here!” from everyone.
The only addition to the guest list was Jarod, the owner and director of the private investigation agency that we had used to chase down and chase away the bully burger-boy from our lives.
Did I mention that Genevieve never left his side? Or that Jarod was focused on his new girlfriend in spite of Dad Peterson’s efforts to launch a conversation with him?
Leighton pointed this out and said to Roberta, “You’re next, baby sis. Your turn is just around the bend!”
And so it was that winter sped by.
I learned that I already really did know how to sing. Not sure I’d ever learn toreadmusic, but I could sing along pretty decently with loads of styles of songs.
Leighton was pleased as punch that both our businesses could expand without us spending more time working. He and his team found numerous domestic and international buyers for three new inventions. Alex helped me mastermind our slow expansion into catering large events. Pretty soon, I’d need an assistant for Alex and a part-timer alongside Amy.
I learned to my hilarity that Leighton had two left feet on the dance floor (and don’t make me say how many near-trip-and-falls he rescued me from!) but we went to all our dance lessons. Given what a klutz he was on the dance floor, I was proud to see that he was an ace at kickboxing (and loved it).
I made light of his awkwardness (so endearing, if dangerous), and instead of going out for more ballroom dancing, we wisely stuck to our slow, hold-on-and-kiss strip-tease dancing in the living room.
His deep singing voice never ceased to arouse me. Leighton would serenade me as we danced at home, but I'd have him sing to me as we walked arm-in-arm in the city, or while cookingdinners together. Or in the shower. Or during our bakery breakfasts. I loved, loved, loved it when he sang to me!
With spring on the horizon, Leighton wanted to take me to an open-air restaurant on the edge of the park.
When we got there, he handed me a gift envelope. Tickets.
“Baby, tickets?”
