“Let’s go.”
“Yes, please,” Emily begs.
They walk out to his old Jeep, awkwardly, his arm around her shoulders, both of them lopsided with luggage.
“How was the flight?”
Emily shrugs. “All right. It’s November. Lots of clouds, but I could see the shoreline.”
Inside the Jeep, Ben turns to hold Emily against him. “God, you smell good. I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you, too,” she murmurs against his neck. “I want to be in bed with you right now.” His hand is on her leg, pushing her skirt up. She puts her hand on the crotch of his jeans.
“Stop.” He groans, pulling her hand away. “I won’t be in any conditionto drive.” He starts the Jeep, pulls out of the parking lot, and heads toward town, presumably to Thaddeus’s.
When he turns off onto an unfamiliar road, Emily asks, “Is this the right way?”
“A friend’s letting me have his apartment for the night.” Ben waggles his eyebrows humorously. “All night. Just you and me.”
“Fabulous.” Emily’s truly thrilled. They can’t make love in Thaddeus’s house where Ben still lives so he can save money, and she doesn’t want to do it in the barn. They’re not kids anymore. Ben’s stupid pride won’t allow him to use Emily’s parents’ house or let Emily rent a hotel room. Because of her father, she will always have more money than Ben does, but this is an issue the two of them keep avoiding.
The apartment is over the garage near a house on Hummock Pond Road. The lot is beautifully landscaped, the house and garage well maintained, so Emily’s shocked when Ben unlocks the door and she steps into his friend’s apartment. It’s not a pit exactly, but it’s basic, to say the least, and not particularly clean. The wide screen television is the only item in the large one-room studio apartment that was created within the last decade. Clearly the bed, sofa, coffee table, and kitchen table are from a secondhand shop or someplace worse.
A vase of flowers stands on the bedside table and a bottle of inexpensive champagne waits in a tub of ice in the sink. The sheets on the bed are so clean and crisp they look new—probably they are new. Emily imagines that Ben bought them and brought them over just for this occasion. They haven’t been together for a month.
She’s grateful for these thoughtful touches. Yet … the room smells of dirty male laundry.
“What do you think?” Ben’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts.
She focuses on him, on this tall, confident, proud man who makesher heart sing. He’s so handsome standing before her in his white dress shirt, sports coat, and tie. She’s infatuated with his black hair, his mouth, his body. “Flowers, Ben, oh, sweetheart.” She presses up against him, wrapping him in her arms.
Ben makes love to her gently, slowly, touching her as if relearning her every curve and hollow. It’s cool in the apartment, but as their passion stirs and builds, they ignite as their skin slides against each other’s, slick with sweat and saliva and other hot, sweet fluids.
Afterward, they doze for a while. When they wake, they lie on their sides, gazing into each other’s eyes.
“I love you, Emily.”
“I love you, Ben.” She skims her fingers over his chest, twining the curls of his black chest hair.
“I don’t want to be away from you for so long again.”
“No. I don’t, either.” She strokes the side of his face. Is now a good time to tell him about her fellowship? “Ben—”
He turns his head to kiss the palm of her hand. “We should get married in May,” he says.
“Oh.” His words are so unexpected, they knock the breath out of her. She’s rattled. She’s thrilled, yet terrified. “Is this a proposal?”
Ben looks surprised. “Do you need a proposal?”
Pulling her hand away from his, Emily sits up in bed, leans against the wall—no headboard on this bed—pulling the sheet up over her breasts. “Every girl likes a proposal.”
“Oh, you’re a girl?”
“Yes, please,” Emily begs.
They walk out to his old Jeep, awkwardly, his arm around her shoulders, both of them lopsided with luggage.
“How was the flight?”
Emily shrugs. “All right. It’s November. Lots of clouds, but I could see the shoreline.”
Inside the Jeep, Ben turns to hold Emily against him. “God, you smell good. I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you, too,” she murmurs against his neck. “I want to be in bed with you right now.” His hand is on her leg, pushing her skirt up. She puts her hand on the crotch of his jeans.
“Stop.” He groans, pulling her hand away. “I won’t be in any conditionto drive.” He starts the Jeep, pulls out of the parking lot, and heads toward town, presumably to Thaddeus’s.
When he turns off onto an unfamiliar road, Emily asks, “Is this the right way?”
“A friend’s letting me have his apartment for the night.” Ben waggles his eyebrows humorously. “All night. Just you and me.”
“Fabulous.” Emily’s truly thrilled. They can’t make love in Thaddeus’s house where Ben still lives so he can save money, and she doesn’t want to do it in the barn. They’re not kids anymore. Ben’s stupid pride won’t allow him to use Emily’s parents’ house or let Emily rent a hotel room. Because of her father, she will always have more money than Ben does, but this is an issue the two of them keep avoiding.
The apartment is over the garage near a house on Hummock Pond Road. The lot is beautifully landscaped, the house and garage well maintained, so Emily’s shocked when Ben unlocks the door and she steps into his friend’s apartment. It’s not a pit exactly, but it’s basic, to say the least, and not particularly clean. The wide screen television is the only item in the large one-room studio apartment that was created within the last decade. Clearly the bed, sofa, coffee table, and kitchen table are from a secondhand shop or someplace worse.
A vase of flowers stands on the bedside table and a bottle of inexpensive champagne waits in a tub of ice in the sink. The sheets on the bed are so clean and crisp they look new—probably they are new. Emily imagines that Ben bought them and brought them over just for this occasion. They haven’t been together for a month.
She’s grateful for these thoughtful touches. Yet … the room smells of dirty male laundry.
“What do you think?” Ben’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts.
She focuses on him, on this tall, confident, proud man who makesher heart sing. He’s so handsome standing before her in his white dress shirt, sports coat, and tie. She’s infatuated with his black hair, his mouth, his body. “Flowers, Ben, oh, sweetheart.” She presses up against him, wrapping him in her arms.
Ben makes love to her gently, slowly, touching her as if relearning her every curve and hollow. It’s cool in the apartment, but as their passion stirs and builds, they ignite as their skin slides against each other’s, slick with sweat and saliva and other hot, sweet fluids.
Afterward, they doze for a while. When they wake, they lie on their sides, gazing into each other’s eyes.
“I love you, Emily.”
“I love you, Ben.” She skims her fingers over his chest, twining the curls of his black chest hair.
“I don’t want to be away from you for so long again.”
“No. I don’t, either.” She strokes the side of his face. Is now a good time to tell him about her fellowship? “Ben—”
He turns his head to kiss the palm of her hand. “We should get married in May,” he says.
“Oh.” His words are so unexpected, they knock the breath out of her. She’s rattled. She’s thrilled, yet terrified. “Is this a proposal?”
Ben looks surprised. “Do you need a proposal?”
Pulling her hand away from his, Emily sits up in bed, leans against the wall—no headboard on this bed—pulling the sheet up over her breasts. “Every girl likes a proposal.”
“Oh, you’re a girl?”
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