Soulmates & Twin Flames

15 - A Perfect Day

Have you ever lived a perfect day? That special day when every second feels so fulfilling, pure joy rushes through your veins from dawn 'till dusk. Tears fill your eyes when you lift your head to the sky and say; 'I'm happy to be alive and in this moment.'

That's today.

The universe started favoring me the moment I left Roman's apartment in the morning. A cab pulled over as soon as I hailed one. The driver was in a great mood, which was a miracle in itself. He offered me doughnut holes as we made small talk, and was excited to hear that I'd edited his favorite ads.

After giving him a generous tip, I left the car. My building had all those pleasant smells of Saturday—curry and soap. I rushed into the shower and then got some editing done before Roman called.

He sounded groggy, and wasn't too happy to wake up alone. I giggled. It's been a week since our first date, but we're already like a married couple.

"No, I didn't bump into anyone when I left your place," I assured Roman on the phone. I can't care less about Nate or him seeing me leave Roman's apartment.

I dolled up as soon as we finished our call—put on a new, sexy summer dress. The tight, dark blue fabric hugged my hourglass figure, and the low shoulders revealed just enough skin to pique Roman's interest. I knew it would tease him. After all, if anything, Roman loved a good tease.

When we met for brunch, Roman smiled his restrained smile. We sat by the window, and the world around us disappeared. I noticed that we were in the dining room of a super fancy hotel only after a waiter in a bowtie interrupted us. Covering my legs with a napkin, I gingerly took my coffee cup and brought it to my lips. My pinkie finger flew up and my lips pursed as I drank it, like I'm the queen of everything.

The King of Smirks smirked again.

Rome's polo t-shirt matched the blue of my dress—oh—and I call him Rome now. Yeah, it's a thing. A funny story about his family taking him to Milan when he was fourteen, then losing him at the airport. To board the next plane to New York, Roman had to catch the train to Rome and arrange tickets all by himself. At fourteen. He was that smart.

I told him a similar story of me and my dad. "I was sixteen when he took me to Switzerland to one of his conferences. I didn't see him for four days! And Dad only realized I hadn't been around when I sat next to him on the flight back home."

Roman set down his coffee. "Didn't you see him at the hotel?"

"No," I confessed, stifling my laughter. "We were staying in different rooms and he was always in a hurry. He gets nervous at these conventions. Anyway, I met some people and hung out with them. Drank lots of wine, and stuffed my face with fondue. Don't tell Dad if you ever meet him. He hates fondue."

Roman laughed his heart out.

He loved my childhood stories. Like the time Olga and I broke into the jocks locker room and saw weiners for the first time. "Tiny, wrinkled ones. They were nothing like the anatomic photos in our text books."

Lazy new years eves I spent on the couch in Philly, watching rom-coms with my dog. "He is perfect. I swear he knows when I'm down. His puppy eyes have the power to turn everything broken into whole again."

Rome listened to my stories with a know-it-all grin. I felt like his favorite movie that he enjoyed watching over and over again. He guessed all the plot twists as if we'd lived them together, but raised his brows in surprise anyway.

What can I say, I'm a great entertainer.

He didn't say much, but he didn't need to. I loved reading every little muscle that moved on his face. His smile was my story—the one that I dreamed of finding my entire life.