He walks in with pristinely wrapped red boxes and says he can’t give me the card yet. I look at him quizzically and start to get a little misty; but it doesn’t stop me from opening the mystery before me.
What girl didn’t want an American Girls doll growing up?
He hands me the card and it reads, “To my love, Stephanie. Something you wanted for a while but never got. Love, James”
Yes, I cried; Through a massive smile, I cried. Yes, he’s a keeper.
(**Warning: This post may contain sappiness and gratuitous gushing from the author**)
I’ve never had a Valentine. This isn’t to say that I haven’t received those little Garfield and Snoopy perforated, pre-made and mass-produced Valentine squares from elementary classmates, but I never had someone to share the day with. Perhaps it’s overdue and a ‘long time coming,’ but if I may, it’s worth the wait. I was met at the door with flowers, chocolate and a gleaming smile. I say it’s silly for him to do so much driving when I could easily meet him someplace (since it’s a long drive), but he won’t allow it.
“It’s the way it’s supposed to be,” he says. (*sigh*)
He calls me “beautiful;” he calls me “amazing.” I blush, gush and suffer from a lack of responses. Am I in a daydream? I only ask because I’ve never been spoken to that way. This is simultaneously humbling and breath-stealing. The sweetness takes me by surprise because it feels so unwarranted; I’m blessed.
We went to dinner and the restaurant owner came over to chat. Consider ‘The Lady and the Tramp.’ Remember the restaurant guy who sings Bella Notte while the dogs are kiss-eating spaghetti? (“He like-a tha meat-a-ball!”)—That’s the owner of this restaurant, I’m sure of it.
Cuddles are nice. Cuddles are something I’ve never quite given or received. Cuddles are something I think I like, they put you in the perfect spot to talk or not talk. We talked. As it turns out, my flowers included one fake one,
“that way,” he says, “they’ll last.”
…I cannot. I absolutely cannot. I don’t think he means to make me cry or get misty, but I can’t help it. It’s like an involuntary response as a reflex answer to overwhelming sweetness.
Before he left he whispered into my ear,
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Beautiful.”
Goosebumps. Big Smile. Big Kiss. Goodnight.