Don't Explain

three.

A couple of days passed, but the thought of New York never left my mind. It was there, lingering in the background, as I moved through my days. The quiet promise he had made, the ease with which he'd invited me, stayed with me. Eventually, curiosity got the better of me.

One afternoon, as the sun hung high in the sky, casting long rays into my condo, I picked up my phone. I dialed his number, listening to the soft rings on the other end, my heart fluttering slightly in anticipation. I wasn't nervous, not exactly, but there was always a little thrill when it came to him.

He answered on the third ring, his voice smooth and familiar. "Hey," he said simply, as if he'd been expecting my call.

"Hey," I replied, my tone just as easy, but with a hint of something sweeter. "So, about New York..." I let the words hang in the air for a second, feeling the smile already forming on my lips.

There was a soft chuckle on the other end, like he knew exactly where this was going. "You changed your mind?"

"I've been thinking," I said, letting my voice drop just a little, playful but still gentle. "How about you send me a ticket?"

The line went quiet for a beat, and I could practically hear the smile spreading across his face. "You want me to send you a ticket?"

"Mmhmm." I leaned back against the couch, curling my legs underneath me as I settled in. "I think you owe me a little trip."

There was a pause, a brief moment where I imagined him considering my request, before he responded, "Done."

"Just like that?" I teased, though I already knew the answer.

"Just like that," he confirmed, his tone confident, almost amused. "I'll have it sent to you by tomorrow. First-class, of course."

"Of course," I echoed, smiling to myself. "Thank you."

"Anything for you," he said, and there was something in his voice that felt like a promise, a reminder of the way he always made me feel—like I was the only one that mattered in moments like this.

We said our goodbyes, the conversation short but filled with the unspoken understanding that we always had. After hanging up, I set my phone down and stared out at the cityscape, a sense of excitement bubbling up inside me. I could already picture the flight, the city lights, and the thrill of seeing him again in New York, where everything always felt just a little more electric.

...

I stood in front of my suitcase, considering what to take but intentionally leaving it mostly empty. Packing lightly wasn't a mistake—it was strategic. I knew Prince, and I knew how he liked to indulge me. With the promise of New York ahead of me, I wanted to leave room for the possibility I had in mind: a shopping trip at Saks Fifth.

I tossed a few essentials into the suitcase—just enough to last a couple of days but nowhere near enough for an extended stay. A couple of sleek dresses, one pair of heels, some lingerie. It was all carefully selected, just in case, but not so much that it filled the space.

As I zipped up the suitcase, my mind wandered to Saks. The endless floors of designer clothing, the scent of leather and perfume, the glimmer of jewelry that could easily tempt anyone who walked through its doors. I smiled to myself, imagining Prince taking me by the hand, leading me through the store, and asking me to pick out whatever I wanted.

I had been with him long enough to know that he liked to spoil me, and I wasn't about to turn down the opportunity. In fact, I was banking on it.

My phone buzzed just as I set the suitcase by the door—a notification from the airline confirming my first-class ticket. Prince had made good on his promise. I tapped on the details, skimming over the flight information. It was all set.