I’d invited Ryan to stay with me while he looked for a job and a place to rent, and even though he found work managing the grounds at a country club right away and we looked at dozens of cool apartments in the city, we found we enjoyed living together in my house so much, I asked him not to leave.
Seven months later, we were coming up on our one-year anniversary, and I’d never been happier.
“El Asador!” I shouted, naming one of our favorite Mexican places in the city. “I could totally go for a steak right now.”
“Me too, but that’s not where we’re going either.”
I sighed. “Are you even going to tell me if I get it right?”
“Probably not.”
Blindly I reached over to hit him on the chest but hit the seat instead.
He laughed. “Patience, young grasshopper.”
Huffing, I crossed my arms over my chest, although secretly it was a thrill to have someone go to such elaborate measures for my birthday dinner—the perfect end to what had been an awesome day.
It had started the way Ryan and I liked to start all our Saturdays—after waking up next to each other, we’d say we were going to get out of bed and get our run in early, but we always started fooling around and ended up having sex (no complaints here). Then we’d gone for a run, after which Ryan had cooked breakfast for us—eggs and hash browns, just like Gramps used to make. This afternoon, I’d gone shopping with Emme (we took turns pushing little seven-month-old Adam in the stroller) for a new outfit and shoes and sexy underwear for tonight (Emme’s only rule was No Beige—I’d shocked us both when I went for siren red). Just as we were finishing up, Emme’s business partner at Devine Events called her with some sort of emergency at a huge expensive corporate thing they’d planned and begged for her help.
Emme called Nate, but he was all the way across the state visiting his mom in Grand Rapids. He said he’d leave right away, but still wouldn’t be home for a few hours. I’d told Emme to go and said I’d be happy to watch Adam. Being an aunt was the greatest thing ever, and my nephew was so sweet—I couldn’t get enough of him.
“Thanks, but then you won’t make it home in time to get ready for your seven o’clock dinner reservation,” she said. “Although, you do have your outfit and shoes and underwear for tonight with you already. I’ve got plenty of makeup you can borrow. Why not just get ready at my house?”
“I can do that,” I said.
Getting ready for a date and taking care of a baby was a bit of a challenge, but I didn’t mind. If Ryan and I had children someday—and I so hoped we would—this would be my reality.
Nate got home just before Ryan picked me up at their house, looking good enough to eat in his black suit. But before I even got my fill of him, he’d put the blindfold on.
The truck came to a stop. “Now can I look?”
“No. Stay there.”
I heard the driver side door open and shut, then felt the passenger side door open and his hands reaching in to unbuckle my seatbelt.
“Ready?” he asked, taking me by the hand to help me down.
“Yes.” I carefully stepped out of the truck and he shut the door. At that point, I stopped to listen for clues, but I didn’t hear anything—not traffic, not music, not voices. I inhaled and smelled fresh air. “Where the heck are we, the middle of nowhere?”
“Nope.” He led me with an arm around my shoulder, and I heard my heels tapping on cement.
Giving up, I let him lead me up one step and guide me through a door.
At that point, I heard soft music—Sinatra—and smelled something deliciously savory, as if a roast was in the oven. Beneath it was a hint of sweetness, something that reminded me of Grams’s kitchen. Apples and cinnamon?
“Where are we?” I asked. There were no other voices, no clink of glasses or silverware, no clatter of dishes.
Ryan untied the scarf from around my eyes, and I found myself in the dark front hall of our own house.
My jaw dropped. “What’s going on?”
“Come with me, please.” He took my hand and led me to the dining room, which was lit only by candles. The table had been extravagantly set for two down at one end.
“What’s this?” I recognized Emme’s wedding china and stemware, and Grams’s silver.
Ryan pulled a chair out for me. “I have to admit, this stuff is on loan,” he said. “But I wanted something nicer than what we use every day.”
“How did you—” But suddenly I knew. “Emme.”
I heard laughing behind me, and turned around. She stood in the archway between the dining room and the kitchen, grinning madly and hopping from one foot to the other. “We all tricked you!”
I gasped. “You were all in on this? Even Nate?”
“Even Grams,” Ryan said, gesturing to the silverware. “When I told her what I was planning and asked her for some recipes, she insisted I needed more than that. I had to drive up there for two days’ worth of cooking lessons, and she made me take the silver with me when I left.”
“When did you go see Grams?” I wondered.
“Last month. Remember that overnight business trip to Buffalo to visit the turf supplier?”
“That was made up?”
He nodded. “One hundred percent. Now come sit down.”
Still in shock, I lowered myself into the chair he’d pulled out and let him push me closer to the table. “I don’t believe this.”
He kissed my temple. “Believe it. You look gorgeous, by the way. I think I was too nervous to tell you that before.”
“Thank you.”
“Ryan, everything is exactly the way you wanted it in the kitchen,” said Emme. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and serve?”
“Positive. You’ve been awesome, thank you.” He went into the kitchen, giving her a squeeze on the shoulder as he passed her.
When we were alone, my sister came rushing over to me. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Is this not the cutest thing ever?”
“Yes! Whose idea was it?”
“His!” Emme bounced up and down. “I swear to God, this whole thing was his plan right from the start. He said something about making this birthday dinner much better than last year’s.”
For a second, I couldn’t even remember what I’d done on my birthday last year. Then it hit me—Walter’s big brush-off. “I’d forgotten I’d even told him about that night.”
Emme shook her head. “I can’t even believe that was only a year ago. So much has happened.”
“I know.”
Ryan appeared carrying an open bottle of wine. He’d removed his suit coat, cuffed up his sleeves, and wore a black apron that said CAUTION: HOT STUFF on the front in red letters.
I burst out laughing. “Gift from Grams?”
He nodded and poured me some wine. “Of course.”
“Well, I’m going to take off,” Emme said. “Well done, Ryan. Happy birthday, sis.”
“Bye,” I said. “Thank you!”
“Thanks a million, Emme,” added Ryan. “I couldn’t have done this without you. And Nate.”
“My pleasure.” She blew us a kiss and disappeared. A second later I heard the front door open and close.
Ryan made two more trips to the kitchen, first for a basket of warm bread and next for a serving bowl full of salad.
“I got the recipe for the Caesar dressing we liked at the inn,” he told me, placing some on my salad plate and then his.
I got choked up watching him hurry back into the kitchen and return without the apron on.
“I’m too warm for the coat,” he said as he sat down. “Sorry. And I have to confess that the rolls are from Breadsmith. Grams would not approve, but I ran out of time.”
I shook my head. “Do not apologize. First, I love when you roll up your sleeves like that because your forearms turn me on. Second, everything about tonight is amazing, including Breadsmith rolls.”
“Thank you.” He picked up his wine glass. “To the most beautiful woman—in every way—I’ve ever known.”
Seven months later, we were coming up on our one-year anniversary, and I’d never been happier.
“El Asador!” I shouted, naming one of our favorite Mexican places in the city. “I could totally go for a steak right now.”
“Me too, but that’s not where we’re going either.”
I sighed. “Are you even going to tell me if I get it right?”
“Probably not.”
Blindly I reached over to hit him on the chest but hit the seat instead.
He laughed. “Patience, young grasshopper.”
Huffing, I crossed my arms over my chest, although secretly it was a thrill to have someone go to such elaborate measures for my birthday dinner—the perfect end to what had been an awesome day.
It had started the way Ryan and I liked to start all our Saturdays—after waking up next to each other, we’d say we were going to get out of bed and get our run in early, but we always started fooling around and ended up having sex (no complaints here). Then we’d gone for a run, after which Ryan had cooked breakfast for us—eggs and hash browns, just like Gramps used to make. This afternoon, I’d gone shopping with Emme (we took turns pushing little seven-month-old Adam in the stroller) for a new outfit and shoes and sexy underwear for tonight (Emme’s only rule was No Beige—I’d shocked us both when I went for siren red). Just as we were finishing up, Emme’s business partner at Devine Events called her with some sort of emergency at a huge expensive corporate thing they’d planned and begged for her help.
Emme called Nate, but he was all the way across the state visiting his mom in Grand Rapids. He said he’d leave right away, but still wouldn’t be home for a few hours. I’d told Emme to go and said I’d be happy to watch Adam. Being an aunt was the greatest thing ever, and my nephew was so sweet—I couldn’t get enough of him.
“Thanks, but then you won’t make it home in time to get ready for your seven o’clock dinner reservation,” she said. “Although, you do have your outfit and shoes and underwear for tonight with you already. I’ve got plenty of makeup you can borrow. Why not just get ready at my house?”
“I can do that,” I said.
Getting ready for a date and taking care of a baby was a bit of a challenge, but I didn’t mind. If Ryan and I had children someday—and I so hoped we would—this would be my reality.
Nate got home just before Ryan picked me up at their house, looking good enough to eat in his black suit. But before I even got my fill of him, he’d put the blindfold on.
The truck came to a stop. “Now can I look?”
“No. Stay there.”
I heard the driver side door open and shut, then felt the passenger side door open and his hands reaching in to unbuckle my seatbelt.
“Ready?” he asked, taking me by the hand to help me down.
“Yes.” I carefully stepped out of the truck and he shut the door. At that point, I stopped to listen for clues, but I didn’t hear anything—not traffic, not music, not voices. I inhaled and smelled fresh air. “Where the heck are we, the middle of nowhere?”
“Nope.” He led me with an arm around my shoulder, and I heard my heels tapping on cement.
Giving up, I let him lead me up one step and guide me through a door.
At that point, I heard soft music—Sinatra—and smelled something deliciously savory, as if a roast was in the oven. Beneath it was a hint of sweetness, something that reminded me of Grams’s kitchen. Apples and cinnamon?
“Where are we?” I asked. There were no other voices, no clink of glasses or silverware, no clatter of dishes.
Ryan untied the scarf from around my eyes, and I found myself in the dark front hall of our own house.
My jaw dropped. “What’s going on?”
“Come with me, please.” He took my hand and led me to the dining room, which was lit only by candles. The table had been extravagantly set for two down at one end.
“What’s this?” I recognized Emme’s wedding china and stemware, and Grams’s silver.
Ryan pulled a chair out for me. “I have to admit, this stuff is on loan,” he said. “But I wanted something nicer than what we use every day.”
“How did you—” But suddenly I knew. “Emme.”
I heard laughing behind me, and turned around. She stood in the archway between the dining room and the kitchen, grinning madly and hopping from one foot to the other. “We all tricked you!”
I gasped. “You were all in on this? Even Nate?”
“Even Grams,” Ryan said, gesturing to the silverware. “When I told her what I was planning and asked her for some recipes, she insisted I needed more than that. I had to drive up there for two days’ worth of cooking lessons, and she made me take the silver with me when I left.”
“When did you go see Grams?” I wondered.
“Last month. Remember that overnight business trip to Buffalo to visit the turf supplier?”
“That was made up?”
He nodded. “One hundred percent. Now come sit down.”
Still in shock, I lowered myself into the chair he’d pulled out and let him push me closer to the table. “I don’t believe this.”
He kissed my temple. “Believe it. You look gorgeous, by the way. I think I was too nervous to tell you that before.”
“Thank you.”
“Ryan, everything is exactly the way you wanted it in the kitchen,” said Emme. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and serve?”
“Positive. You’ve been awesome, thank you.” He went into the kitchen, giving her a squeeze on the shoulder as he passed her.
When we were alone, my sister came rushing over to me. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Is this not the cutest thing ever?”
“Yes! Whose idea was it?”
“His!” Emme bounced up and down. “I swear to God, this whole thing was his plan right from the start. He said something about making this birthday dinner much better than last year’s.”
For a second, I couldn’t even remember what I’d done on my birthday last year. Then it hit me—Walter’s big brush-off. “I’d forgotten I’d even told him about that night.”
Emme shook her head. “I can’t even believe that was only a year ago. So much has happened.”
“I know.”
Ryan appeared carrying an open bottle of wine. He’d removed his suit coat, cuffed up his sleeves, and wore a black apron that said CAUTION: HOT STUFF on the front in red letters.
I burst out laughing. “Gift from Grams?”
He nodded and poured me some wine. “Of course.”
“Well, I’m going to take off,” Emme said. “Well done, Ryan. Happy birthday, sis.”
“Bye,” I said. “Thank you!”
“Thanks a million, Emme,” added Ryan. “I couldn’t have done this without you. And Nate.”
“My pleasure.” She blew us a kiss and disappeared. A second later I heard the front door open and close.
Ryan made two more trips to the kitchen, first for a basket of warm bread and next for a serving bowl full of salad.
“I got the recipe for the Caesar dressing we liked at the inn,” he told me, placing some on my salad plate and then his.
I got choked up watching him hurry back into the kitchen and return without the apron on.
“I’m too warm for the coat,” he said as he sat down. “Sorry. And I have to confess that the rolls are from Breadsmith. Grams would not approve, but I ran out of time.”
I shook my head. “Do not apologize. First, I love when you roll up your sleeves like that because your forearms turn me on. Second, everything about tonight is amazing, including Breadsmith rolls.”
“Thank you.” He picked up his wine glass. “To the most beautiful woman—in every way—I’ve ever known.”
