Yesterday was surprise city, but like he said every day. Every day is gonna be like this.
“Do you feel up to stepping out with me after breakfast?” he asks, giving me eyes that I could never let down by saying no or maybe later.
“Whatever you want, Foxx. As long as I’m with you,” I purr, wondering how long I could make it on my ankle today.
It feels fine, though, and as much as I like being carried everywhere by Foxx, I tell him the walk will probably do me good.
“Maybe I should start using that gym of yours too,” I add, looking down at myself. I wonder how many more pounds I need to be before short and cute is just blah for a man like Foxx.
But he seems to disagree with me, the one thing I guess we’ll always disagree on. My body, no matter how much I try to put a positive spin on it, I always come back to square one.
Short thick girl, can’t even look at food without gaining a pound or two.
Fox has made his view clear already. He likes what he sees, and he likes what he feels even more.
But Foxx surprises me with his silence, not nagging me to stop being so down on myself. He only gives me a firm look before forcing a smile. And he squishes his nose up, making such a funny face we both just have to laugh.
“C’mon,” he says after a while, eating faster and giving me little nods of his head. He’s like an excited child inside a hulk’s body. And whatever it is that’s made him in this mood is infectious.
Finding my clothes tumble-dried and neatly folded, he tells me to get ready after we’ve eaten. I wonder if it’s a one-time thing.
Nope. I can tell Foxx folds things like this for himself.
He’s clean. Neat. He’s a doctor, for god’s sake. Of course, he takes care of every little detail.
And it’s not long before I get a better idea of what that actually means.
See, Foxx has been up long before I have. And his plans to not only make me feel at home but spoil me rotten have already been set in motion.
Leaving me to get dressed, I can hear him humming, almost whistling, as he dresses in his walk-in dressing room just off the main bedroom.
Promising me, he has to, if only to keep his hands off me for at least a few hours while we’re out.
The fresh scent of his cologne mixed with the freshly laundered clothes I almost forgot I owned makes me feel the same way.
Until he comes out, making me feel slightly underdressed.
I look like a street urchin compared to what he has on. It’s technically smart casual, but damn if Foxx doesn’t fill a pair of jeans, shirt, and jacket.
He literally could have a career as a model if he weren’t a doctor.
Not sure I’d like that either, though. I kinda just want him all to myself.
“You look great,” he smiles, and not fishing for any compliments himself, he repeats it as he crosses the room to sweep me up off my feet again.
“Your chariot awaits,” he says boldly, and I figure he just means his car.
Our phones, his keys, and everything for going out are all laid out on the large wooden table by the door.
As if magic freakin’ elves have been at work while I snored my head off.
But that’s just Foxx being Foxx.
Always prepared. Always in control of any situation.
He stays quiet on the way down in the elevator. I wonder if I’m getting much too heavy to carry around. Then the door slides open to the lobby of his building instead of the parking garage.
The familiar face of his doorman greets us, tipping his hat to wish us a good morning as Foxx strides by him, returning the good cheer.
I spot a horse-drawn carriage out front, noting the red carpet leading up to it, and I figure someone in the building must be getting married.
But in the seconds it takes for us to reach it, I know it’s for us.
For me.
The black lacquer of the closed carriage gleams bright, reflecting the building and the cityscape all around us, like we could be stepping right into a fairy tale.
“This is us,” Foxx grins, ignoring the coachman holding the door open, offering to help.
Four huge horses with decorated bits and bridles, an ostrich feather at their rigs’ crown, make me swoon.
Like I really am a queen or a princess somehow.
The red velvet interior and matching seats with plump cushions remind me of something out of a movie rather than real life.
“How did you…?” I ask, but Foxx only shrugs, smiling so hard I think his face will stay that way if the wind changes.
“Tell me you didn’t arrange this just to go shopping,” I ask. My voice is as stunned as I’m sure the look on my face is.