Well I could definitely say he wasn’t rushing into anything. He seemed to be going at the pace of a snail and it was frustrating the hell out of me. So, like all things that piss me off, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
That morning I’d been to the hair salon and had my hair cut and colored. I’d then had a leisurely salad lunch (I needed to look good later, so I skipped the carbs) before making my way to the main shopping street downtown to pick up a few things. This was followed by having my nails done and then I headed home to put the finishing touches on my surprise.
Oh, he was going to be surprised all right.
I was standing in the kitchen when the doorbell rang.
Right on time.
He was always right on time.
I’d left the door unlocked and so I said, “It’s open!” and stood waiting, drink in one hand and the other hand on my left hip.
He was fumbling with the laces on his shoes when his eyes met mine.
And then his jaw dropped.
“Surprise!” I smiled wickedly.
“You’re in the kitchen…” he stammered. “And you’re wearing…”
He was having trouble forming coherent sentences and it was no wonder. I was wearing an apron.
Just an apron.
His kitchen fantasy was about to come true.
And by the looks of it, he was about to come too.