The Virgin Gift(45)
My parents loved Nina. No surprise there. She was engaging, smart, and loved to ask questions.
So did my mother, and the two of them gabbed all night long over our sushi dinner, talking about modern art, new shows to see in Vegas, and quirky scientific discoveries. That was my Nina.
As the brunette beauty reached for a piece of rainbow roll, she said to my mom, “You should definitely check out this new podcast I’ve been listening to.”
I froze.
She wasn’t going to mention Ask Aphrodite to my mom, was she? Nina had told me about it, but even though Mom was cool, she didn’t need to tune into something that had helped my girlfriend ask me to push her face into the pillows and screw her hard.
Something I did nightly, thank you very much.
“It’s all about modern art, and the hostess dives into whether any of it has meaning at all,” Nina said.
I relaxed, laughing quietly to myself.
Of course she wasn’t going to say anything.
Some things were private.
What we did after dark and why would always be one of them.
Later that night, with my parents sleeping soundly in my newly painted condo, I joined Nina in her bed.
That was where I’d spent every night for the last week.
And tonight we had a new item to tackle on our list.
Number twelve.
Seemed fitting to add it officially, since we’d talked about it in the heat of the moment.
Tonight I gave her that, something she wanted, and something I wanted too.
After, when we cuddled, I found myself counting the days till I could ask this wonderful woman to be my wife.
Was tomorrow too soon?
The answer was yes. It was definitely too soon.
But a month later, I’d arrived at a different answer.
Nina had asked me to join her on a passion project, as she called it. When she wasn’t shooting empowering images of women feeling beautiful, she was drawn to the natural world. To landscapes, deserts, and forests. We didn’t have forests in Vegas, but outside the city, we had a beautiful desertscape in Red Rock, with its canyons and rock formations.
Today, we hiked through it as Nina took photos. “Some new ones for our wall,” she said, because I’d moved in with her and put my newly painted place up for sale.
“You don’t want to hang those photos of you in your white panties on the wall?” I teased as I followed behind her on the path.
She lowered her camera and swiveled around. “Those are only for us.”
“I know, baby. And I love looking at them with you.”
That was an item on our list we checked off over and over, because we both loved those pictures. They were so goddamn arousing, the visual record of our love, our intimacy.
They were decadent, dirty, and endlessly erotic.
And I was so damn glad she’d asked for number eleven, because her boldness in asking for what she wanted bolstered me today.
I planned to ask for what I wanted most.
After we hiked to a picnic spot, she set down her camera and I spread out a blanket. “Sandwiches for my sandwich monster,” I said, and her eyes lit up. Nina loved to be fed.
“Are they going to make me sing a rock anthem?”
“I do believe they will make you croon. But first I need to ask you something.”
“Ask me anything, Adam,” she said, so open, so trusting.
God, I loved this woman.
She made it so easy to get down on one knee, meet her gaze, and give her all my truth. “Nina Bellamy, you are the most wonderful, giving person I’ve ever met. You’ve been my friend and my lover, and you’ve shown me so much about trust and faith and love,” I said, my heart expanding to fill my whole damn chest.
Her eyes shone, tears glimmering in them.
“And the only other thing I want is for you to be mine always. Will you be my wife?”
She nodded as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Yes, Adam. Yes, I’ll be your wife. I’ve only ever been yours, and I’ll only ever be yours.”
And that was the most wonderful gift.
I slid a gorgeous solitaire on her ring finger, then kissed my bride-to-be as passionately and fiercely as I ever had.
There were no engagement photographers. No photos captured by someone else for social media.
But I had the record of this moment etched into my mind, and it was perfect.
It was real, and it was ours.
And it always would be.
28
Brandon
A few weeks later
My second shoot for the watchmaker in Los Angeles had been another success.
So good in fact that the client upgraded me to first class for my return flight home to Paris.
I wasn’t going to complain.
Not when I settled into the plush leather seat in the second row. Not when I checked the menu for the flight, my mouth watering over the offerings. And not when I saw the wine list.
A glass of pinot, a good meal, and a long nap as I crossed the country and then an ocean. Sounded like a perfect plan for the flight. I’d been enjoying the little things in life more, and this sure as hell counted.
I closed my eyes, settling into my seat, savoring a little moment.
Then I heard a voice.