Michael is waiting in the living room after I get dressed, eagerly handing me my coat.
"Where are we going?" I ask him, suspicious of his smile.
"I have an idea, I think you'll like it," he says.
"Are you going to tell me what it is?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"Nope," he smiles. I sigh and shrug my coat over my shoulders, letting him lead the way out of the apartment. Michael walks over to his car and I follow, trying to hide how excited this small fact makes me. His car is much nicer than mine and I've never seen him actually drive it.
The dark leather interior is fancy and well kept up. I can see Michael smirking as I obviously admire it, but he doesn't comment. I suppress my sharp intake of breath as Michael takes my hand on the center console, reveling in the way that I am used to it but it still makes my blood pound in my veins.
We don't drive very far. Michael pulls off the freeway after about five miles, and then he takes us through back roads and residential areas until we finally pull onto what looks like a small town square. Michael has a mischievous smile on his face as he expertly parallel parks the car on the street and opens the door, walking around the car to help me step out.
The air is automatically freezing on my face and the exposed skin of my hand, but I leave it in Michael's as we stroll down the sidewalk. This is nice, this leisurely autumn walk, but I can tell that Michael has something else up his sleeve.
We walk around the small town shops, occasionally ducking into one and shopping around. They're all the same; handmade jewelry and small trinkets, the occasional pastry. Michael seems intrigued by a family of ceramic geese that we find in one of the shops, and I have to physically pull him away.
"This way," Michael says excitedly as we exit back onto the street. He threads his fingers through mine and pulls me forward, towards what looks like a small bakery. We stop right outside the door and Michael pulls it open, allowing me to step in first. He leans down to speak into my ear as I pass by. "Just go with it," he murmurs, snaking his arm around my waist.
The moment we step through the door, Michael is clinging to me almost obnoxiously. I do what he says and just go with it, letting his warmth seep into my skin. The bakery is beautiful, with baby blue walls and crystal chandeliers that seem like they should be out of place but fit right in. There are glass cases that make up an exquisite counter, full of elaborately decorated cakes and pastries that look like they've been taken straight from the pages of Southern Living magazine.
At the sound of the bell tinkling, a woman comes from the back room and up to the counter, smiling warmly at us. Michael grabs my hand and spins me around, pulling me to his chest and exaggeratedly slow dancing us over to the counter. I have to fight my laughter, what is he doing?
"What can I help you with today, dears?" The woman smiles brightly. She has a very grandmotherly air about her, the way that old ladies in small towns do.
"Well," Michael says to her, his smile so big it is almost distorting his words. "Look at this girl," he says, gesturing to me. The woman turns her gaze to me, smiling. "Isn't she gorgeous?" Michael gushes.
"She is," the woman nods her head warmly, and I flush.
"Don't you think this gorgeous girl deserves the most gorgeous wedding cake?" Michael says. I try to hide my surprise as he injects giddy fake enthusiasm into his voice. The woman's eyes light up.
"Why yes!" She exclaims. "Oh, this is so exciting! You two just have a seat right over there and I will bring you some options. Oh, lovely!" She is still mumbling excited nothings as she walks into the back room, and Michael tugs on my arm, pulling me over to the booth that she indicated.
