Light filters through the windows,and soft music echoes in the air as I pull my car in front of her house on Friday evening.
I’m early.
I’m nervous.
And I truly hope she hasn’t changed her mind.
I push the door open and enter the living room. Her voice comes from the bedroom.
“I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Get yourself a drink,” she says.
“I’m good,” I say, stepping onto the terrace.
My eyes follow the hypnotic dance of the paper lights swaying in the breeze.
“Hey.”
Her voice rings behind me.
“Hey,” I say, turning around and drinking her in.
My heart races as I lay my eyes on her.
She’s never looked so beautiful. And different.
“You look good,” I murmur, perfectly aware my words don’t do her justice.
Her eyes glitter with excitement, a warm smile curving her lips.
I look at her, dumbstruck.
“Are you okay?” she asks, noticing my bewilderment.
“Yes. I like your dress,” I murmur, running my gaze over her.
Her dress hits above her knees, a tasteful combination of black lace and chiffon, a molded bustier, and a pencil skirt.
Long sparkling earrings almost touch her shoulders.
Her hair waves down her back, her eyes sparkling, full of life, dark amber gleaming between canopies of curled, raven lashes.
A glistening layer of lipstick highlights her lips.
“You like it?”
“Yes,” I murmur.
She checks the time, grabs a small purse, and curls her hand around mine. I hold her tightly. It’s soft and warm, pulsing with life.
Smiling, she gives me a quick once-over.
“You look great as well,” she says, running her eyes over my tailored shirt and pants.
Her gaze sweeps my clean-shaven face, her lips pursing.
I look at her, mystified.
“Ready?” she asks, gently squeezing my hand.