In disbelief, not sure if I'd heard him right, I asked Nate to repeat the birthday hint he'd said.
He fought a smile, his deep blue eyes twinkling, and reached for my hand across the breakfast tray. "I said, it's April, and there's one city that's widely considered to be the loveliest in the world in the springtime. This city might be the perfect destination for a birthday trip." He studied my face, unable to hide his amusement. "That is, if you're able to take off work for a week or two. So, can you?"
I could barely even think. "Well...yeah. My brick-and-mortar candle store uptown has two managers who are more than capable of running things when I'm away, and they can also take care of the online orders. But...Nate, are we thinking of the same city? Because I've heard people say Paris is the loveliest city in the world in springtime, and I think there's even some old song that—“
"Nope." He shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. "Nope. I said I'd give you a hint but I didn't say I'd confirm any guesses about that hint."
"But Paris is considered—“
"So is Rome. So is Prague. Barcelona could even be considered the loveliest city in the world in spring. I've even heard a few people say that the Bronx—“
"Oh, come on. Be serious."
"You think I'm not?"
I gave him a look but fighting a smile myself. "I know you're not."
Chuckling, he leaned in and gave me a brief, tender kiss. "Guilty as charged, I guess, about the Bronx, anyway. But this is one of the perils of dating a man in his twenties. We can't be trusted to be completely serious all the time. We might even veer off into complete and total immaturity at times."
"Well, somehow, I can't ever imagine you, personally, veering off into 'complete and total immaturity.' Although if you ever do at times, I think I'm okay with that. I think I like you just the way you are, no matter what."
He gave me another brief kiss. "That feeling is very, very mutual."
We enjoyed more coffee in bed and I tried to tease out more confirmation of the birthday hint without success. Nate actually said he'd heard that Detroit was considered, by some, to be the loveliest city in the world in the springtime. Somehow, I seriously doubted that. I fished around some more but confirmation of the birthday hint couldn't even be bribed out of him with kisses. The only thing my bribe accomplished was to somehow make it so that we eventually wound up in a hot, steamy shower together. Which wasn't all that bad of a prize at all. And actually, it was nearer to heaven to feel Nate's warm, soapy, slippery hands all over my wet, naked body.
I'd never been to Paris before, let alone in the springtime, although it had always been a dream of mine. But like with the exclusive restaurant Nate had taken me to the night before, no one had ever asked me to go, and even though I was fairly financially comfortable, I wasn't anywhere near the point that I could just take off to Paris on my own, spur of the moment. It seemed as if Nate was going to make all my dreams come true. But not just in a material sense. Just being with him and spending time with him was a dream come true. Although I had to admit, fancy restaurants with celebrity chefs and possible birthday trips were bonus dreams I could definitely get used to.
Later that day, Nate took me to my apartment so that I could change clothes, and we spent a lazy Sunday afternoon at the movies. We sat in the back row of the nearly deserted theater, kissing, touching and laughing quietly more than watching the film. Or, at least, we thought we were laughing quietly. Near the end of the movie, a group of older women sitting maybe halfway up the theater began grumbling and turning around to give us looks.
One of them put an index finger to her mouth and gave us a hearty shush. "If you kids don't keep it down, we'll call the manager!"
Being referred to as a "kid" at almost thirty-seven sent me into a fresh spasm of giggles. I turned to Nate, who was silently laughing so hard his shoulders were shaking. "We've gotta get out of here. I can't stop giggling."
Almost as if to prove my point, a fresh giggle attack swept over me at the sight of one of the women, a lady with a puffy gray bun, giving us the finger.
"Oh my gosh, Nate. Let's go."
We got up and began leaving the theater hand in hand, leaning against each other for support while we both shook with the effort of suppressing additional waves of laughter. Right before we went out the door, one of the older women shouted that we shouldn't come back to the movies until we were old enough to behave ourselves. A comment that of course, only made us laugh harder. I was beginning to feel like I was back in high school again. And I loved it.
The last man I'd been on a date with had been a forty-three-year-old accountant whose idea of fun had seemed to be practically holding me hostage in his living room for an hour while he'd shown me his rare stamp collection. This particular date had made me swear off dating for a while until I'd met Nate.
*
The next morning, Nate dropped me off at my apartment after another night of passionate intimacy at his. I wasn't even sure if intimacy was even the right word anymore, although just plain sex didn't seem quite right, either. Our activities were beginning to feel more like lovemaking; fun, wild, free-spirited lovemaking but lovemaking nonetheless.
I wasn't about to start thinking of or labeling our still-very-new relationship as a serious love thing, though. I wasn't delusional. I knew that at twenty-six, Nate, as sweet, considerate, and caring as he was, probably wasn't looking for something incredibly serious and long-term. And I didn't know that I was especially looking for anything like that at the moment myself. Maybe at some point down the road, sure. I did want to get married again someday. I wanted to give it another go again with someone more trustworthy, loyal, and loving than my ex-husband had been. But for the time being, Nate was fun. He was romantic. He was spontaneous and passionate. And that was all I wanted.
I spent the morning at my uptown candle store, checking in with my employees and supervising creation of an elaborate new storefront display my managers had designed. Once that task was complete and once I'd spent some time paying bills and looking over inventory spreadsheets in my office, I met Tamara for lunch at a nearby cafe. The day was a little cool but sunny, and we sat at a table outside, a red-and-white striped umbrella above shielding us from the bright midday rays.
We were both starving and ate in silence for a little while but after finishing some kale chips and about half of a chicken breast club sandwich, Tamara took a long drink of sparkling water and then looked me with some sort of expression I couldn't quite read. It was maybe a look of being amused or intrigued. Or both.
"So? Spill."
I took a sip of my lime-spiked sparkling water. "Spill what?"
She gave me a look of extreme reproach. "Oh, come on. Just come the hell on. 'Spill what,' she says, after spending the entire weekend with some hot young billionaire. 'Spill what,' she says. With an absentminded little grin on her face the whole time we're having lunch. Like we're not even best friends and share everything or something."
She wadded up a paper napkin and threw it on the table with mock disgust, and I could tell it was truly mock because of the way she pursed her bubblegum-pink lips together like she always did when fighting hard not to smile or laugh.
In all honesty, I'd been so preoccupied with business-related things, thoughts of Nate, and thoughts of my upcoming birthday trip, not to mention a growling stomach, that it completely slipped my mind that I hadn't told Tamara yet all about Nate and the weekend.
I dabbed at my mouth with a napkin, apologizing. "Tam, I really am sorry. My mind is just on a different planet today. I'm just...absolutely in the clouds or something."
She'd folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair, but my apology seeming to soften her because she unfolded her arms and exhaled in a huff, but the edges of her mouth were clearly lifting in a smile. "Well, apology accepted, I guess. But I'm going to need some details because I'm just assuming that someone who's 'absolutely in the clouds' has quite a few details to tell."
I smiled, thinking just how many there were. I started by telling her about how Nate had rented out the exclusive Italian restaurant just for the two of us. "We even got to meet the chef, the one who's always on TV, and there were violinists, and the food was amazing, and Nate ordered a bottle of wine that was probably a hundred dollars a sip. I was terrified just watching the sommelier pour it. We talked, and laughed, and just enjoyed each other's company so much, the whole dinner was just magical."
"It sounds like it. And now, we're getting to the most important part. What happened after?"
I thought back to that night, a little giddy just from recalling the events. "Oh, after! You're right. The night just got better and better, and more and more romantic. Nate hired a private pilot to give us a helicopter tour of the city skyline. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen in my life. We sipped champagne the whole time and the city just glittered and sparkled...I felt like a spoiled little princess with my dashing young prince. I mean...a private helicopter tour at night, with champagne. Being with Nate is just like being in a fantasy. The complete opposite of...remember my date with 'stamp collector guy' and my hour in his living room feeling compelled to look at all his old stamps out of politeness?"
"Oh, yes. I remember 'stamp collector guy.' It seems you've come quite a long ways from him."
"I think I've come millions of miles from him. Thank God."
"I agree. Now pick it up from the helicopter ride. Did you go back to his place or yours? And I know you went back to some place, because you are just like, glowing talking about this guy. Too much to even just be from the restaurant experience and helicopter ride."
She knew me way too well. I smiled, finishing a sip of my sparkling water while a few birds pecked for crumbs on the sun-drenched sidewalk nearby. "We went back to his place. With the plan being nightcaps. But...we didn't quite get that far. We kind of soon stumbled our way into the bedroom, except Nate carried me, actually, and then I...."
I trailed off, suddenly embarrassed.
Tamara tapped her glossy pink nails on the table, seemingly impatient. "And then you what?"
I shrugged, a warm flush rising to my face.
Tamara tapped her perfectly manicured nails some more. "I'm waiting, my love. Because something tells me this is going to be good. And then you what?"
I took a deep breath, deciding to just spit it out. "And then I asked him to slowly strip off his clothes for me. And he did. And his body was just...." I exhaled in a rush, the memory of Nate's hard body, and hard other things, making my face flush even a little hotter. "Tam, he was just so incredibly hot. Just all muscled and toned, all of him. I guess I'd forgotten just how hot a man in his mid-twenties in great shape can be."
"And how about his man part? Was that in great shape, too?"
I knew I'd never be able to put into words just how very much in great shape his "man part" was in, even if I'd wanted to, which I didn't. Some things were just personal. My face became so hot I knew a blush must be visible even through my caramel skin just thinking about Nate's manhood. And thinking about how he'd told me it was all for my pleasure.
Trying to snap myself out of it, I sat up a little straighter and took a sip of icy sparkling water. "Nate is in great shape physically, every inch of him. And that's all I'm going to say about that." What I'd said made me immediately think of every inch of Nate's long, thick, hard-as-a-rock manhood and how it had felt to ride it. I took another sip of cold water.
Studying me, Tamara chuckled, almost under her breath. "All right. I understand. You've never been one to be bold with all the details. But I think I get it. I'm picking up a vibe that you two hit it off physically. Your hot pink cheeks say it all."
Wanting to change the subject, I cleared my throat. "Well, whatever. So, anyway, breakfast in bed the morning after, and then we spent the afternoon at the movies just laughing, and cuddling, and being silly. I felt like I myself was twenty-six again, not soon to be thirty-seven." At the mention of my birthday coming up, I gasped. "Oh! I haven't even told you one of the most important parts yet. So Nate wants to take me on a special surprise trip for my birthday. And he kind of hinted that the destination might be Paris. Which..." I exhaled a fluttery breath. "I would just die. I just don't know if I could mentally handle such an extreme happiness overload."
Tamara, who'd gotten back into her sandwich, set it down, swallowing a bite, took a sip of water, and then smiled. "I hope it is Paris, then. I hope this Nate guy makes all your dreams come true because you deserve it. You deserve to be completely happy."
I smiled, tucking a stray strand of my dark, shoulder-length hair behind one ear. "Thanks. As do you. You deserve to be completely happy, too, and I know this year's your year."
Tamara grinned, dimpling her left cheek. "Thanks. And you know what? I think it is, too. You know why? Because I've felt kind of sick, on and off today; I think it might have happened this time. I think my greatest dream is about to come true: I think I'm going to become a mom."
After her divorce, which had been at least partially because her husband had decided he didn't want children, she'd made her own decision. She'd realized that having a child was her greatest dream, and since she was in her late thirties and she knew her biological clock was ticking, she'd decided not to wait for a man to make that dream a reality. She'd decided to use donor sperm in an attempt to become pregnant and had already undergone four rounds of artificial insemination, one round each of the past four months. But despite taking fertility drugs to maximize her chances, the first three months had yielded only negative pregnancy tests.
I reached across the table and gave her hand a quick squeeze. "I am so, so happy for you. And even though this might sound mean, I hope you continue to feel sick. I really hope you're pregnant."
Tamara grinned. "Thanks, me too. Although I've still got a week or two before I can take a test. And, no, that sick comment didn't sound mean at all. I hope I just keep feeling sicker and sicker. I hope I have a hard time keeping down this sandwich later."
*
The next week or so went by in a hazy, happy whirlwind of spending time with Nate and getting to know each other better. We met each other's best friends; Tamara really liked him and gave me her seal of approval and I met his best friend Mike who seemed to really like me and didn't even give me a hint of a funny look about my age like I'd feared he might.
Nate took me to a different exclusive restaurant nearly every evening, and once, to the ballet, on a whim, just because I'd happen to mention over dinner how much I enjoyed watching ballet. When we arrived at the theater, the show was supposedly all sold out, but after speaking to the general manager, Nate told me that they actually weren't sold out and had two of the best seats in the house available, just for us. I was just slightly dubious that things had went down exactly that way, but nonetheless, I was thrilled, and we enjoyed an evening at the ballet I knew I'd never forget.
Nate and I also enjoyed several weekday picnics in Central Park, the two of us sitting on a blanket, embracing. For each of the picnics, he picked up catered picnic baskets from a very pricy upscale gourmet deli so that I wouldn't have to go to any trouble making or packing anything. Many times, I told him I was feeling like a spoiled princess, and he responded with the same thing every time: "As you should." Then he'd kiss me with such exquisite tenderness that the sensation would actually make me curl my toes. Which usually got me thinking about other activities we did that often made me curl my toes. We'd eventually wind up back at his or my place, our clothes strewn across the floor.
My employees began to notice I wasn't spending as much time at work as I normally did. One day, when Nate sent the grandest flower bouquet I'd ever seen in my life, which included a dozen flawless red roses as well as a dozen flawless pink ones, because Tamara had put a bug in his ear about how I liked that color combination, my employees exchanged knowing and slightly amused glances. I set the bouquet on the desk in my office, feeling more special than I ever had in my life. And happy: I actually couldn't remember when I'd ever been so happy. If I ever even had been. Little did I know I could become even happier still; my joy level was about to jump off the charts.
I was sitting on Nate's lap in my kitchen, enjoying the feel of my bottom atop his muscular thighs, while we shared a bowl of ice cream. After feeding me a bite of mint chocolate chip, which he'd teased me with first before finally putting it in my mouth, he set the spoon back in the bowl, his mouth curving in just the slightest of grins. "You were right about my birthday hint, of course. Can you be ready to board a private jet to Paris in twenty-four hours?"
I gasped, a hand flying to my mouth, then nodded, not ever wanting to wake up from the dream I was in.