I tugged nervously at the collar of my shirt, fixing my tie for the tenth time since the limo had picked me up at my recording studio at six thirty. I sat in the back of the car, fixing both of the drinks that I had just mixed so that they looked perfect sitting in the back of the limo on the mini bar inside. We had just pulled onto my block.
“It’s the white one right there,” I told Steve, the driver.
“The one with the gorgeous woman standing outside?” He smiled back at me.
I grinned proudly, “yes.”
Steven pulled the limo next to my curb and came to my side of the car to let me out. I saw Clare standing at the top of the stairs, a red rose held tightly against her chest like I had requested and her suitcase at her feet. Steve opened my door so I could get out and meet her on the porch. I smoothed down my Versace suit when I took a step outside
the limo, and slowly walked up to my wife. Her hands slid effortlessly around my neck, her lips brushing mine.
“You did get a Versace,” she beamed, fixing my tie.
I nodded, “surprised?”
“Very,” she nodded.
Steve appeared, taking my wife’s suitcase and placing it with my own in the trunk of the limo. I had put mine in my car the night before so that Clare wouldn’t see me taking it out and wonder what I was doing. The suit had been hung up in the car the night before as well. I explained to Zoë that morning as I drove her to school that Mommy and Daddy were going away for the weekend and the baby-sitter, Kate, would be staying Friday and Saturday nights to hang around. Grandma and Grandpa were available at all times of the day and night, and would be stopping over in the evenings for dinner to give Kate and extra hand. I had told Kate a few weeks ago not to hesitate to call my in-laws if there was any thing she needed help with at all, they were only a few miles away and were willing to help with anything. She arrived at six fifteen to get any last minute directions from my wife and play with the newborns.
I put out my elbow and Clare took it. She was dressed in a slinky black dress, a Guchi that we purchased in California before going to an awards show less than a year ago. The dress was sleeveless, mid-length, with a black shawl. Her makeup was light but accentuated her eyes and lips. She looked beautiful, but then again she looked beautiful in anything.
I led her to the limo where the two of us sat closely to one another in the back seat. Steve closed the door after us and started the car, closing the divider so that we could have some privacy. We drove in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Clare rested her cheek on my shoulder, her right arm hanging loosely around my stomach.
“Martini?” I asked.
My wife nodded and sat up straight. I reached over under the bar and pulled out the drinks that I had mixed, handing one to her and keeping one for myself.
“So where exactly are we going?” She asked me, sipping her drink slowly. “You didn’t mention exactly what hotel it was in the card.”
“You’ll see,” I told her. “I have to keep just one more secret to myself.”
“You’re not fair,” she accused, poking my stomach with her finger. She settled down into my underarm and stirred her drink. “I’m going to try to guess.”
“You’ll never get it,” I kidded.
She watched out the window the remainder of our trip, her neck resting neatly under my arm, not moving until we pulled up in front of the Inn and she realized exactly where it was we were.