On The Run: Part Two

Chapter Thirty-Four - "For Keeps"

This is a bit of a cheesy chapter - I say, 'a bit' because the one after the next is far worse. However, my point is, I think it's apt that I upload it on this equally cheesy day.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

May you all have far more love in your lives than your hearts could possibly take.

_______________________________________________________

Jake

I stood in front of the mirror, straightening out my tux. I looked up at my appearance – I hadn’t even realized I’d been smiling.

“Ready,” she said, and I took her reflection in, as she stood behind me. Burgundy fabric cascaded down her body, hugging her figure, and finally spread out steadily from her knees to her feet until it was settled across the floor. The neckline was anything but legal, and her hair fell across her shoulders in curls, with her bangs clipped back. She stared at me through smoky eyes, as she pouted her glossy soft pink lips.

I turned, still staring, and she twirled.

“What do you think?” she asked.

I smiled. I was thinking: I am married to the most beautiful woman in the world, and that was no exaggeration.

Twenty days earlier

“What now?” I asked, still on my knees in front of her apartment building.

She grinned sheepishly, “I suppose we get up first.”

So, I did, pulling her up with me, and asked again: “What now?”

“I have an idea.”

“Are you going to share?” I asked, as she slipped her hands around my waist.

She shook her head, “No. So you can’t say no.”

“I don’t think I could,” I said, feeling a surge of emotions that could only be collectively be referred to as being smitten.

I grinned, and she stuck out her hand, to hail a cab. I turned as one slowed at the curb.

The driver stuck his head out, when we didn’t seem to be parting or making any moves. “Where to?” he asked.

Sarah kept her eyes trained on mine, a smile playing on her lips, “JFK please,” she replied.

The car pulled up and I opened up the door. Jose handed the keys to me and I stared down at the beautiful body of the silver Porsche Cayman convertible. No one could ever say Sarah Parks lacked taste.

Sarah winced, “How the hell . . .” she trailed off looking down at her dress and heels.

I chuckled. “Come here.”

I lifted her onto the front of the car and as her legs hung over the edge, I slipped off her shoes. She smiled and held on to my shoulder.

I moved over to the car and put the top down, then I picked her up again, bridal-style, and eased her gently into the car – like a fragile box of china. There were only a few people walking by, but I could feel them watching.

She grinned, and said my name with such tenderness. She was saying so much without saying anything at all. I leaned down and kissed her softly – saying everything without saying anything at all.

Eighteen days earlier

The bellboy led us up the elevator to the penthouse suite, and I was finding it very hard to compose myself. Sarah was standing next to me, her hand resting in my back pocket. She seemed virtually unaware that anything was happening to me, but the frisson of excitement rose with every floor we ascended. I couldn’t even feel any of the tiredness from the twenty-four hour trip.