Just Let Me Love You (Judge Me Not #3)(55)

Kay’s still smiling—not to mention she’s been kind of quiet throughout dinner—so I know she must have something more planned, some sort of a surprise beyond the dinner.

“What are you up to?” I ask. “I know something more is on the agenda.”

“You got that right,” she says, chuckling as she stands. Beckoning for me to follow, she adds, “Come on, Chase; come and get your real Valentine’s Day surprise.”

As she leads me to the hall and up the stairs, I assume Kay is taking me to the bedroom for some early-evening Valentine’s Day sex. And, with that thought in mind, when we reach the landing at the top of the stairs, I spin her to me, lean down, and kiss her with all I’ve got.

“Mmm,” she mutters against my lips when I slow things down. “What was that for?”

“Well, not that I need a reason,” I reply, leaning back, “but you are looking rather hot right now. I couldn’t resist.”

Kay laughs. “Chase.” She shakes her head, but her eyes are filled with love.

Kay is wearing a little red dress, and I skim my hands over her full breasts, stopping briefly to ply her sensitive nipples through the soft, velvety material.

“Mmm…” She leans into me, breathless already even though my hands are resting at her hips now.

“Come,” I tell her, nudging her toward the bedroom.

But she stops me. “I want to be with you, Chase. I do, but not yet.” I raise a brow, and she says, “I have something I want to show you first.”

I stop groping my wife—for now. “Now you have me curious as hell,” I confess.

With her hand on my chest, she pats me once and says, “Good. But you don’t have to wait any longer to see this surprise. Come on, let’s go to our room.”

She turns and we walk toward our bedroom, while I am still wondering what this woman is up to.

At the door, she stops again and insists I close my eyes.

“Okay, okay,” I say as I comply.

With my eyes closed, I allow Kay to lead me across the threshold.

She stops when we’re partway in the bedroom and whispers, “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

I do exactly that and, as I look around, I mouth, “Wow, amazing.”

I am amazed, too. Our room is lit by soft candlelight and it’s absolutely beautiful. But there’s more…

At least a dozen red balloons are floating around the room. Some are stuck to the ceiling, their shiny ribbons dangling to the floor, shimmering in the glow of all the candles. And others are just drifting by.

Assuming the festive-looking room in and of itself is my surprise, I say to Kay, “This is really cool. I like it.” I step around the dangling ribbons, touching a few balloons as I go. “It definitely looks like Valentine’s Day with all the red.”

Kay says softly, “I chose red balloons for another reason, Chase.”

I give her a small smile. “Because of the one from the fair?”

She nods. “Yes.”

I told Kay a long time ago about the red balloon my parents once bought for me at a fair when I was a kid. I thought that balloon was special, that it symbolized hope. But after they gave it to me, I let it go.

In a way, I lost my hope that day.

Kay tried once before to give me my hope back, at the church carnival last summer. But boy, did I f*ck it up by not telling her beforehand what had happened between me and Missy. That night, when Kay heard me and Missy arguing at the bake sale booth, she learned the truth.

And that day, she let her hope go.

But now, we have all our lost hope back. These balloons symbolize not only my hope, but Kay’s, as well.

“We’ll never again let go of our hope,” I say fervently, turning to her.

“Never,” she agrees. She touches my arm and adds, “That’s not all, though. There’s more, Chase.”

“More?” I eye her questioningly. “What? There’s more to my surprise?”

“Yes.”

Kay pulls down one of the red balloons and hands it to me. I can see there’s something in it, and I ask, “Napkins?” as I raise a brow.

She hands me a straight pin. “Pop it and see. It’s part of the rest of your surprise.”

I thought the balloons drifting around the room were cool, but if each one holds something, some memento from our past. Well, hell, that’s even better.

I pop the first balloon and pull out two napkins. The first is a maroon napkin from our wedding reception at the diner. “Nice,” I say as I turn it in my hands. “Now I know why you were placing it in your clutch.”

“Yep, now you know.”

The second napkin turns out to be a plain one from the diner, and I stare down at it, confused.

“It’s from one of our first lunches,” Kay explains, touching my arm. “I saved it and packed it away a long time ago. I wanted to have a reminder of our very first days together.”

“I love it,” I tell Kay, rubbing at the worn edges of the plain napkin, and then the smooth newness of the maroon one. “I’m glad you saved both.”

“This way,” she says quietly, “we can always look back. These are our memories, Chase.”

“So”—I look up and gesture to all the remaining balloons—“each and every one is filled with a memory?”