Free Web NovelChapter 131: Home Sweet Home: Hannah
The trip home always managed to feel shorter than the trip away, didn’t it? It didn’t bother me, though. I was perfectly happy to get off of the plane. Our town car was at the airport still and was brought right up to the jet for us to exit. It was one of those little things that made me feel a little larger than life. Who else had private cars waiting for them on the tarmac? Roman drove us through the city and I kept my hand on his knee the entire time. The soft melodies of an indie song played over the radio. It was turning out to be a rather peaceful and gradual return, and I was thankful for that. It made it easier not to dote over memories of the Bahamas.
When we pulled up to the house, I got out and stretched, letting out a deep sigh as I did. "Let’s get the bags later," Roman suggested.
"You read my mind," I smiled weakly.
We walked toward the door and before I could grasp the knob, Roman took gentle hold of my arm.
I peered up at him and, before I could ask what it was, he scooped me up into his arms and held me horizontally with my legs dangling off one of his arms.
I looked at him curiously, and he only gave me a tender and shy expression in return. "I should have done this the first time. Better late than never."
Then, he opened the door and carried me into the house bridal style. My heart felt as thought it could explode from the glee it gave me. It was such a small and traditional gesture, one I had never even given thought about, and yet it meant the world to me. Roman was putting so much effort into making me feel like a partner, like a loved wife, and it wasn’t going unnoticed.
He did a little spin with me before setting me down. We shared a light laugh and a brief kiss before I looped my arms around his neck. "Do you have to get right back to work?" I asked, unsure what was coming next.
Roman grinned and shook his head. "I told the office I wouldn’t be in until the morning. So I say we cut our phones off and have the rest of the day to ourselves. A nice little transition back to the usual."
"Deal," I beamed. We both immediately drew out our phones, cut them off, and tossed them onto the credenza.
We got upstairs and settled into bed, cutting the projector on. The next several hours were passed with cuddling, kissing, and a movie marathon. It was so fun and something that it felt like we hadn’t been able to do in forever. The more time we spent like that, simply basking the company of the other, the further the horrors of the year pushed back in my mind.
We argued about what Disney film was the best and who was the best superhero. It made me feel young, carefree. Like we were teenage newlyweds who had nothing better to do but have fun debates and love one another endlessly. I easily made pretend that we didn’t have to return to work the following day. I didn’t want to spoil the evening for myself.
Eventually, when we got hungry, we moved downstairs. I wasn’t sure if Geoffrey had been given a time when we would be back and when we would likely expect dinner, but he had it already prepared by the time we reached the kitchen. Much to my delight, they were veggie French bread pizzas along with salad. As I grabbed my plate, Roman caught me.
"How about we eat in the den? I could get a fire going," Roman suggested.
"That sounds perfect," I nodded.
Even though the island had, of course, been warm, autumn had already settled over the city, and it was getting cooler by the hour. Sitting near a fire did sound great. With our plates and waters in hand, we moved to the den. We sat on the floor, and Roman turned on the gas fireplace, as well as a record player.
It was a perfectly fall day. Movie marathons, pizza, records by a fire.
"Come here often?" Roman asked as he sat back down on the floor.
I glanced around the room as if it was brand new. "I can’t say I have," I stated with an air of awe. "Do you?"
"Only every chance I get," Roman grinned. "I have it on good authority that a gorgeous woman floats about these halls. From what I see, the legends don’t disappoint."
I giggled and shook my head. "Floats? Sounds spooky. Are you sure she isn’t a ghost?"
"Maybe she is," Roman shrugged, all the while being unable to get a smug grin off of his face. I could tell he already had the line prepared and was more than excited to lay it on me. "All I know is she makes me feel more alive than ever."
"That’s cute," I laughed joyously. It was cheesy, but too cute not to reward it with a compliment. "Who ever knew you could be such a kiddish flirt?"
"Who are you calling kiddish?" he huffed, though the smile gave away that he wasn’t offended.
I raised my hands in defense, a grin still wide on my face. "Hey, I said it was cute, didn’t I?" freewёbnoνel.com
"Fair enough." He winked.
The pizzas were fantastic, and the salad refreshing. I was also thankful for the water, knowing that, after that vacation, I could go a bit without drinking. I didn’t want it to become a daily habit. I had excused myself for a while because things had just been so crazy that it had been understandable to need the edge off. Things were relaxing, and there was no need for us to polish off a bottle of wine a night.
When we were done eating, we set the plates on the coffee table and laid in the floor. We focused on the music, the sound of the vinyl filling my chest with a warm and nostalgic feeling that I couldn’t quite place. I didn’t have records growing up. Maybe it was just the fact records were from a different time. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend we were in the seventies or something, listening to that album in the den of our quaint house. Bellies full of a roast dinner with nothing else to do but lounge and listen to a record together.
Music was transformative. Putting on a track could teleport me into another reality so quickly, and I wondered if Roman experienced the same.
I waited for the song to finish before I opened my mouth, not wanting to ruin the moment.
"Roman?" I asked.
He replied with a muted ’mhm’.
"Do you get lost in music?"
"In what way?" he asked
I rolled over and peered down at him. I had no sense of embarrassment as I asked my question; though I think, just a few weeks ago, I would have. "Like, when I listen to a sad song, I can imagine something picturesque. Like being teleported into a movie just of that song and feeling what the character feels. As long as the song is good enough, I’m moved with their music. Trying to see what they are expressing. I think it’s why I don’t care for pop music too much. All it sets up is parties and things like that. That’s not my scene."
"What is your scene?" he asked quietly.
"Close your eyes," I instructed as I propped myself up on an elbow.
The song was a slow sort of song, with a sweet little lyrical poem about love never growing old. I spoke to him everything I imagined.
"We’re in the fifties. You’re still some hot shot businessman, and I’m your housewife. We met at a soda fountain, and I’m remembering the day I first laid eyes on you as I wash the dishes. I sway to this song. You come in behind me and grab my waist. Before I know it, we’re slow dancing together in the kitchen. We haven’t danced in years, and it’s then, as I look in your eyes, that I can tell you’re seeing me as you did all those years ago. Together, we dance like we did outside the soda fountain that night. Times have changed and so have we, but our connection hasn’t."
I talked through the song, only pausing for important parts.
When the song faded, Roman opened his eyes and peered up to me with glistening eyes.
"You have a beautiful mind," he whispered. "I love seeing more of it, day by day."
"You have me for a lifetime," I whispered.
We shared a tender kissed and remained there for the rest of the evening, sharing our imagery together, holding hands, and kissing. It was the perfect way to close out our second honeymoon.
