“It’s just easier this way.” I shrug again and stop him when he tries to argue. “I don’t want to fight about her. She’s not worth any of our time.”
He takes a deep breath in frustration and pushes his fingers through his hair. “Fine.”
“Let’s go check out one of the above ground cemeteries.” I bounce up and down in excitement and he can’t help but laugh at me.
“What is it with you and the dead? And why am I just now learning this about you?”
“It’s N’Awlins, Will. Don’t be a spoil-sport.”
* * *
“Damn, you can pack away the food. Where do you put it all?” I ask as we enter our hotel suite. More accurately, the penthouse of an old, gorgeous hotel. The furnishings are grand and sturdy and the tapestries are thick and old.
I feel like we’ve stepped back in time each time we walk inside this vast room. It’s beautiful, and way more space than we need, but I know that Will wanted to make this week special.
And he has.
“Meg, as a football athlete, I have to consume almost four-thousand calories a day to maintain enough energy to train the way we do.”
“All the time?” I ask, stunned.
“During the season. In the off season, it’s closer to three-thousand.”
“Holy shit,” I murmur and feel a little bad for constantly tormenting him about the volume of food he eats.
But then I look at him and remember how he laughs when I tease him, and I don’t feel bad anymore. Teasing him is fun.
“There’s something I want to show you,” he murmurs and pulls me to him.
“I’ve seen that before, stud muffin.” I grin up at him and glide my hands up and down his chest as he throws his head back and laughs.
“Not that. Well, not yet, anyway. Come on.”
He leads me out of the room and to the elevator, but instead of pushing the button for the lobby, we go up to the roof. I look up at him in surprise, but he just smiles smugly down at me.
“What are we doing?” I ask.
“You’ll see.”
The doors open to reveal a beautiful rooftop patio, full of plush furniture, large, ornate gold planters boasting cut-leaf rhododendrons, Spanish moss falling down ledges of the balcony, and the tops of banana trees from the courtyard below. We can see across to similar patios on similar hotels, although it’s small enough up here, and the foliage is plush enough that it feels private.
White lights are strung over-head, lanterns are lit on the side of the building, and on table tops, sending a soft glow over the space in the darkness of evening.
There is a sign that reads closed for private party.
“Oh, we’re not supposed to be up here.” I try to pull him back to the elevator, but he chuckles and easily pulls me back to his side.
“We are the private party, sweetheart.”
“Oh.” I smile ruefully as he leads me to a corner of the patio that has champagne chilling in a silver bucket and two silver plates covered with silver domes sitting on a small table before a gorgeous red and gold couch.
“What’s all this?” I ask, my eyes wide, taking in this beautiful scene.
“Just dessert on the rooftop,” Will murmurs and shrugs shyly, like it’s no big thing.
But it is a big thing.
“Thank you.” I raise on my tip-toes and kiss him. “It’s lovely.”
“You’re lovely. Here, have a seat.” He leads me to the couch and pours us each a flute of sparking, gold champagne. “To spontaneous vacations.”
“I’ll drink to that.” We clink glasses and take a sip, Will’s blue eyes are watching me over his flute.
“Did you have fun at the cemetery today?” I ask with a grin.
“It was interesting. Definitely a new experience.”
“I thought it was fun. I still think you should let me talk you into the ghost tour.”
“I can think of better things to do in the dark,” he replies with a half-grin.
“Really? Like what?”
“Are you wearing any underwear under that dress?” he asks instead of answering my question.
“You know I’m not.” I tilt my head and study him. “Why do you ask?”
“Just making sure.” He pours more of the sweet champagne into our flutes and leans against the back of the couch, watching me. “Would you like some dessert?”
“Sure. What do we have?”
He pulls the lids off the plates and reveals little dishes of beautiful crème brule. “Looks like crème brule.”
“Delish,” I murmur and grin as he scoops up a spoonful and feeds it to me. “Mmm.”
“Good?”
“Mmm hmm.” I reach for it, but he pulls it out of my grasp and takes a bite himself.
“Mmm,” he nods. “Good.” He takes another bite and I frown at him and reach for the other dessert, but he blocks me. “I got this.”
“Well then gimme!”
“Impatient little thing, aren’t you?” he chuckles and feeds me another bite, then takes a bite himself. I crawl over and climb in his lap, and he feeds both of us, grabbing the other ramekin when the first one is empty.
“Did you get enough?” he asks as he pushes the dishes aside and wraps his arms around me.
“More than enough. Thank you.”
He smiles against my hair and kisses me, while running his hands up and down my back. “You’re welcome, babe.”