Igor awoke the next morning with a burst of energy, even though they hadn’t gone to sleep until dawn, not until the candles burned out and the rose petals were nothing more than fragrant reminders of what had transpired between them.
He left her tousled, sated, and asleep. Igor’s steps were light as he walked the sleepy Vermont town’s cobblestone streets. No one had stirred yet, but with the aid of the bed and breakfast owners, he was able to find the one and only coffee shop as well as the antique jewelry store.
Half an hour later, he had everything he needed. Igor wasn’t one to waste time—when he saw perfection, he knew it.
Heading back to the coffee shop for his second cup, he bought two breakfast sandwiches and one of every kind of baked good.
“I just got married,” Igor said to the counter girl, wanting to share his good fortune.
The young brunette smiled. “Congratulations.” When he tried to pay, she waved him away. “On the house.”
He left her a one-hundred-dollar tip.
The morning was bright and warm as Igor made his way back to the bed and breakfast. Maryruth was still asleep, sprawled out in the center of the bed. He set the coffee and bags down on the bedside table before kissing her shoulder blade.
“Igor?” she whispered.
He kissed her lips, his tongue dipping into her mouth. Soon, she was kissing him back. He quickly stripped out of his clothes before climbing into bed. Rolling on top of his wife, he gently nudged her legs open and slipped inside.
She gasped and moaned, clawed and scraped his back. Maryruth kept her eyes closed even when he quickened the pace, even as she shattered around him. Holding her, their breaths settled.
The late morning light filtered into the room, reminding him they couldn’t stay there forever—no matter how much he wanted to. If only they were simple beasts; life would’ve been nothing except rutting, eating, and sleeping. But they were human, and with that came obligations and worries.
“Good morning,” she whispered, finally opening her eyes as she snuggled against his warm chest.
“Sleep well?” he asked.
“Hmm. No. Not at all.” She smiled against the column of his neck and pressed a kiss there.
“You don’t seem too upset.”
“I’m not. Last night was the best night of my life. You’ve set the bar really high,” she teased. “Do I smell coffee?”
“And scones and a breakfast sandwich.”
He sat up and reached for the bags, setting them in front of her. He watched as she peeked in each one, smiling to himself when she stilled.
“This isn’t food,” she remarked, her voice faint, as she gestured to a small, white bag with gold scrawl stamped across the front.
“It’s not?” he asked, eyes widening in sham innocence. “Hmm. I wonder what it could be.”
She bit her lip and hesitantly reached into the bag and pulled out a small black ring box.
“Why are you waiting? Open it. It’s yours.”
“Women, all women, even women who aren’t romantic, always dream of the piece of jewelry they hope to find in this type of box.” She gazed at the ring container like it was a serpent ready to strike.
“Open it,” he urged again. Most men would be afraid of the unknown reaction waiting for them. He was not most men. When he saw the ring, he knew it belonged to her.
She flipped the box open. There, nestled on a canvas of black, was a platinum rose cut diamond ring. Sunlight filtered through the room, shooting rainbow prisms across the far wall.
“Oh.” She breathed. A lone tear gathered at the corner of her eye before falling as gently as a snowflake.
“May I?” he asked, his voice filled with reverence for this woman, this ring, this moment.
Unable to speak, Maryruth nodded and held out her slender hand. The ring fit perfectly. Igor brought it to his lips and kissed it before turning over her hand and kissing her palm.
Her newly adorned hand reached out to touch his cheek. “Where’s your ring?” she asked quietly.
“I picked your ring. I think it’s only fair for you to choose mine.”
And with that statement, he watched Maryruth finally lose control as she cried tears of joy.