"You know.." Gary muses, running a long index finger around the rim of his Bacardi and Coke as we sit in British Airways first class lounge at Heathrow waiting for our flight call. "This holiday was suppose to be for our anniversary next month."
I learn forwards, replacing my glass of orange juice back on the small table between us. "Yeah?" I smile, heartened by the notion that Gary would whisk me away somewhere romantic for our anniversary, but grateful he decided to bring it forwards none the less.
Gary nods, taking down a glug of the spirit and sugar, and i watch his Adams apple rise and fall as his throat works on the swallow. "You have no idea how many phone calls i had to make to move it forwards four weeks."
"Oh, its that exclusive is it?" I raise an eyebrow, folding my arms across my chest for the mere body warmth, despite it almost being mid-April, the weather outside was as dreary as mid-winter.
Gary grins again, stretching back into the plush, lilac-grey seat. "Its not bad i guess."
"When you say not bad?"
"My lips are sealed."
"Gary!"
"What?!" He chuckles, his eyes creasing at the corners and sparkling with childish amusement. "It was suppose to be a secret in the first place, ive got to keep some surprises for you, haven't i?"
I pout, taking another sip of juice and wishing it were wine; shivering when the chilled, crisp beverage slips past my lips.
"You cold?" Gary reacts with the heightened instinct of a doting father, sitting up right again and unfastening the zip of his black hoodie. Shaking my head, i wave my hand in signal that he should keep it. "No, im fine."
"Have my hoodie."
"Gary, honestly, im fine." My attempt to assure him, naturally, gets no where though and Gary has shrugged himself out of the jacket within three seconds.
"Here." He holds it over the table for me to take.
"Gary, really, im okay."
"Do i have to dress you now as well?" His eyes are smiling, betraying his deadpan tone.
"Okay!" Taking the garment from his hand, i relent, slipping it around my shoulders and i fidgeting to get my arms though the sleeves, when i do, however, its a welcome comfort and i cant help but pull the fleecy material across my body, folding my arms under my chest to keep it in place.
"Better?" Gary takes another sip of Bacardi and Coke, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he pulls the glass away and relishes the after taste.
I narrow my eyes, offering a begrudging nod, and Gary laughs a look-whos-right-again kind of laugh, low and rumbling and complete with the full trademark smirk at the end.
Theres a moment of comfortable silence before i voice the query niggling my conscience;
"Are you sure Ethan will be okay with your mum for the week?"
Gary sighs, loudly, and leans forward in his chair, now bare forearms resting on top of solid thighs. "I knew this was bothering you."
I swallow. "N- It- Its not its just-" I watch a single drop of condensation slip down the outside of my glass and I don't move my eyes from it until it reaches the table. "I miss him that's all."
I learn forwards, replacing my glass of orange juice back on the small table between us. "Yeah?" I smile, heartened by the notion that Gary would whisk me away somewhere romantic for our anniversary, but grateful he decided to bring it forwards none the less.
Gary nods, taking down a glug of the spirit and sugar, and i watch his Adams apple rise and fall as his throat works on the swallow. "You have no idea how many phone calls i had to make to move it forwards four weeks."
"Oh, its that exclusive is it?" I raise an eyebrow, folding my arms across my chest for the mere body warmth, despite it almost being mid-April, the weather outside was as dreary as mid-winter.
Gary grins again, stretching back into the plush, lilac-grey seat. "Its not bad i guess."
"When you say not bad?"
"My lips are sealed."
"Gary!"
"What?!" He chuckles, his eyes creasing at the corners and sparkling with childish amusement. "It was suppose to be a secret in the first place, ive got to keep some surprises for you, haven't i?"
I pout, taking another sip of juice and wishing it were wine; shivering when the chilled, crisp beverage slips past my lips.
"You cold?" Gary reacts with the heightened instinct of a doting father, sitting up right again and unfastening the zip of his black hoodie. Shaking my head, i wave my hand in signal that he should keep it. "No, im fine."
"Have my hoodie."
"Gary, honestly, im fine." My attempt to assure him, naturally, gets no where though and Gary has shrugged himself out of the jacket within three seconds.
"Here." He holds it over the table for me to take.
"Gary, really, im okay."
"Do i have to dress you now as well?" His eyes are smiling, betraying his deadpan tone.
"Okay!" Taking the garment from his hand, i relent, slipping it around my shoulders and i fidgeting to get my arms though the sleeves, when i do, however, its a welcome comfort and i cant help but pull the fleecy material across my body, folding my arms under my chest to keep it in place.
"Better?" Gary takes another sip of Bacardi and Coke, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he pulls the glass away and relishes the after taste.
I narrow my eyes, offering a begrudging nod, and Gary laughs a look-whos-right-again kind of laugh, low and rumbling and complete with the full trademark smirk at the end.
Theres a moment of comfortable silence before i voice the query niggling my conscience;
"Are you sure Ethan will be okay with your mum for the week?"
Gary sighs, loudly, and leans forward in his chair, now bare forearms resting on top of solid thighs. "I knew this was bothering you."
I swallow. "N- It- Its not its just-" I watch a single drop of condensation slip down the outside of my glass and I don't move my eyes from it until it reaches the table. "I miss him that's all."
"I know babe," Garys hand moves into sight as he shuffles himself to the edge of his seat, wrapping four long fingers around my slim wrist and encouraging me to look up. "I do too, we both do. But you need a break."
I push out a laugh on an exhale. "I look that bad do i?"
Gary smiles sympathetically. "You look beat."
"Not many men can get away with saying that to their wives." My eyebrow flickers skywards and i manage a small smile.
"I dont mean it in a bad way." Gary urges softly. "You're still beautiful." He pulls the inside of my wrist to his lips and kisses it slowly.
"You dont have to window dress it, its okay." My gaze moves to my lap as i twist my engagement ring back into line with my thumb, my other hand still help captive in Garys. "I know."
"You just look like you could use some sun, thats all."
I nod stiffly at that, my raw nerve feeling a little too exposed in Heathrow Airport lounge at two in the afternoon.
"Lib." Garys fingers tighten around my wrist and when i look up i can see in his eyes that hes worried im offended. I offer yet another tight smile, pick up my glass of over priced orange juice with my free hand, take an unladylike glug and watch as a young couple get giddy and giggly over at the bar.
"You know," The words are out of my mouth before have even thought about them. "Three years ago we would have been shagging in the toilets right now."
Garys grip on my wrist goes lax and his eyes widen, his mouth curving in an amused state of surprise. "Well, theres nothing stopping us.." He cranes his neck in true pantomime fashion and squints in the direction of the toilets. -I cant help but giggle. "..Looks free to me."
"Dont be silly." Withdrawing my hand back to my own lap, i chide softly, toeing off my Converse and curling my feet under me as if i were at home. -We've paid enough money for that privileged at least. "Im being serious."
Gary frowns then, taking another sip of his Bracadi cocktail. "What do you mean?"
I inhale, weighing out how appropriate this conversation is for a first class airport lounge, but deciding to pursue it anyway. "I mean, three years ago we were like them." I tilt my chin over to the young couple who now appear to be attempting discreet body shots- And failing dismally.
Gary follows my notion and pulls a face. "Drunk?"
"No!" I hate him for making me chuckle, but that doesn't make it any easier to stop. "Just carefree.. i dont know.." I chew on my bottom lip for a moment, thinking carefully over what im about to say next. "Do you ever worry that we did it all too fast?"
"What do you mean?" I think the question is out of Garys mouth before ive even finished my sentence, the element of panic in his voice clearly left unchecked.
I sigh again, not wanting to start our holiday off on a bleak note, but needed to broach my troubles all the same. "The marriage and the babies thing -I wouldnt change anything..." I peter off. I dont have to be looking at Gary to hear him sigh again.
Theres a long pause; and i spend it fingering the clock face of my Michael Kors.
"Come on." His voice sounds finally, gently probing me away from my distracted thoughts. "I think i heard our flight call."
I frown, looking up and glancing around to see nobody in the lounge making a move towards anywhere at all but Gary.
"Are you sure? I didnt hear any-"
"Just get up Libby." The look he gives me is somewhere between frustration and anguish, and the heavy sensation at the bottom of my stomach makes it hard for to me stand when i realise ive offended him.
"Gary, i-"
"Libby!" He interrupts me a second time, draining the tumbler which once held the alcoholic beverage in once easy swallow. "Put your god damn shoes on and come with me, please."
Silently, i do as he asks. Chiding myself, as i stand, for not being able to keep my mouth shut. I hand his hoodie back to him without a word and he takes it with equal silence, not waiting for me to keep up as he strides away through the airport. My legs may well be as long as his, but theyre not half as powerful and i find myself tripping over myself like a spring lamb trying to keep up. By the time im cemented back at his side, hes having a hushed conversation with a tall man in a smart blue suit, whose name tag says his name is Nigel.
Nigel nods graciously at my husband, ushering us over to a flight attendant; a short, oriental woman dressed in a black tailored suit with three buttons down the front and the funny little hat to match. She mutters a few words to Gary that i dont quite catch. Im too busy brooding over the fact i just told my husband i wished we'd never gotten married, -In so many words, at least.
We walk for a while then, following the little woman through various security doors and long empty corridors overlooking the runway. At one point, Gary grasps my hand and interlocks our fingers, but i dont particularly notice when; im too busy trying to think of how to take back what i said in the airport lounge.
Two huge metal doors open up onto a colossal, flat expanse of tarmac, broken only by the polsihed black car waiting just outside.
The attendant smiles politely as she tell us that she hopes we enjoy our trip, and Gary opens the door for me to slide into the back and sink into the plush leather seats. When hes slipped in next to me, i voice my confusion.
"What are we doing?"
Gary merely shrugs. He doesnt bother with his seat belt so neither do i. "Acting like twenty three year olds that won the Euro Jackpot?"
I frown again, but say nothing as the car begins to sail, quickly across the grey stretch of airstrip and i wonder what other God forsaken surprise Gary has now decided to throw at me. Not that i dont love them of course. I do. Utterly.
I count each terminal as we pass it, simply to quash the feeling of guilty excitement that bubbles under the surface, my concern over offending him settled slightly by the thumb that runs smoothly back and forth across my knuckles when he pulls my hand into his lap. We dont stop at any of the terminals though; we keep driving, on towards the runway.
I break the silence again. "Where are we going?"
This time, Gary simply tips his lips into a controlled and knowing smile as the car begins to slow. It pulls silkily up next to a sleek white air craft that looks as if it would cut though the air with such sharp precision you would hear it tear. It has gleaming little windows and a pretty striped rudder that matches the acute little wing-lets.
Its a private jet.
But of course it's a private jet.
I push out a laugh on an exhale. "I look that bad do i?"
Gary smiles sympathetically. "You look beat."
"Not many men can get away with saying that to their wives." My eyebrow flickers skywards and i manage a small smile.
"I dont mean it in a bad way." Gary urges softly. "You're still beautiful." He pulls the inside of my wrist to his lips and kisses it slowly.
"You dont have to window dress it, its okay." My gaze moves to my lap as i twist my engagement ring back into line with my thumb, my other hand still help captive in Garys. "I know."
"You just look like you could use some sun, thats all."
I nod stiffly at that, my raw nerve feeling a little too exposed in Heathrow Airport lounge at two in the afternoon.
"Lib." Garys fingers tighten around my wrist and when i look up i can see in his eyes that hes worried im offended. I offer yet another tight smile, pick up my glass of over priced orange juice with my free hand, take an unladylike glug and watch as a young couple get giddy and giggly over at the bar.
"You know," The words are out of my mouth before have even thought about them. "Three years ago we would have been shagging in the toilets right now."
Garys grip on my wrist goes lax and his eyes widen, his mouth curving in an amused state of surprise. "Well, theres nothing stopping us.." He cranes his neck in true pantomime fashion and squints in the direction of the toilets. -I cant help but giggle. "..Looks free to me."
"Dont be silly." Withdrawing my hand back to my own lap, i chide softly, toeing off my Converse and curling my feet under me as if i were at home. -We've paid enough money for that privileged at least. "Im being serious."
Gary frowns then, taking another sip of his Bracadi cocktail. "What do you mean?"
I inhale, weighing out how appropriate this conversation is for a first class airport lounge, but deciding to pursue it anyway. "I mean, three years ago we were like them." I tilt my chin over to the young couple who now appear to be attempting discreet body shots- And failing dismally.
Gary follows my notion and pulls a face. "Drunk?"
"No!" I hate him for making me chuckle, but that doesn't make it any easier to stop. "Just carefree.. i dont know.." I chew on my bottom lip for a moment, thinking carefully over what im about to say next. "Do you ever worry that we did it all too fast?"
"What do you mean?" I think the question is out of Garys mouth before ive even finished my sentence, the element of panic in his voice clearly left unchecked.
I sigh again, not wanting to start our holiday off on a bleak note, but needed to broach my troubles all the same. "The marriage and the babies thing -I wouldnt change anything..." I peter off. I dont have to be looking at Gary to hear him sigh again.
Theres a long pause; and i spend it fingering the clock face of my Michael Kors.
"Come on." His voice sounds finally, gently probing me away from my distracted thoughts. "I think i heard our flight call."
I frown, looking up and glancing around to see nobody in the lounge making a move towards anywhere at all but Gary.
"Are you sure? I didnt hear any-"
"Just get up Libby." The look he gives me is somewhere between frustration and anguish, and the heavy sensation at the bottom of my stomach makes it hard for to me stand when i realise ive offended him.
"Gary, i-"
"Libby!" He interrupts me a second time, draining the tumbler which once held the alcoholic beverage in once easy swallow. "Put your god damn shoes on and come with me, please."
Silently, i do as he asks. Chiding myself, as i stand, for not being able to keep my mouth shut. I hand his hoodie back to him without a word and he takes it with equal silence, not waiting for me to keep up as he strides away through the airport. My legs may well be as long as his, but theyre not half as powerful and i find myself tripping over myself like a spring lamb trying to keep up. By the time im cemented back at his side, hes having a hushed conversation with a tall man in a smart blue suit, whose name tag says his name is Nigel.
Nigel nods graciously at my husband, ushering us over to a flight attendant; a short, oriental woman dressed in a black tailored suit with three buttons down the front and the funny little hat to match. She mutters a few words to Gary that i dont quite catch. Im too busy brooding over the fact i just told my husband i wished we'd never gotten married, -In so many words, at least.
We walk for a while then, following the little woman through various security doors and long empty corridors overlooking the runway. At one point, Gary grasps my hand and interlocks our fingers, but i dont particularly notice when; im too busy trying to think of how to take back what i said in the airport lounge.
Two huge metal doors open up onto a colossal, flat expanse of tarmac, broken only by the polsihed black car waiting just outside.
The attendant smiles politely as she tell us that she hopes we enjoy our trip, and Gary opens the door for me to slide into the back and sink into the plush leather seats. When hes slipped in next to me, i voice my confusion.
"What are we doing?"
Gary merely shrugs. He doesnt bother with his seat belt so neither do i. "Acting like twenty three year olds that won the Euro Jackpot?"
I frown again, but say nothing as the car begins to sail, quickly across the grey stretch of airstrip and i wonder what other God forsaken surprise Gary has now decided to throw at me. Not that i dont love them of course. I do. Utterly.
I count each terminal as we pass it, simply to quash the feeling of guilty excitement that bubbles under the surface, my concern over offending him settled slightly by the thumb that runs smoothly back and forth across my knuckles when he pulls my hand into his lap. We dont stop at any of the terminals though; we keep driving, on towards the runway.
I break the silence again. "Where are we going?"
This time, Gary simply tips his lips into a controlled and knowing smile as the car begins to slow. It pulls silkily up next to a sleek white air craft that looks as if it would cut though the air with such sharp precision you would hear it tear. It has gleaming little windows and a pretty striped rudder that matches the acute little wing-lets.
Its a private jet.
But of course it's a private jet.
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