"We can do better than just flowers, Stace," I said, taking them out of her hands and setting them down on the table.
Then I turned her towards the bedrooms and covered her eyes with my hands.
"You know I don't like surprises," she lied, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice.
"Just walk, Kendrick," I said, directing her through the apartment until we stood in front of Kenny's old room. "Ready?"
"Ready," she said, nodding eagerly.
"Keep them closed," I said, taking my hands away.
I stepped out in front of her and opened the door, then walked into the room and went to sit down in her chair behind her desk.
"Okay. Open," I said, awaiting her reaction.
"It's all my stuff," she said, stepping into the room, looking around fondly at things she hadn't seen in six months.
"Yup. I had it taken out of storage. We couldn't fit everything in here, but I think I got the important stuff. I figured you could use your own space. I know how much you love reading and how much you missed your books, so here we are," I said, hoping I wasn't being too presumptuous.
"The shelves aren't mine," she said, running her fingers along the spines of her book collection.
"Yeah, I needed to have those built. You have a lot of books. It was tough to keep it a secret from you, but I figured it out," I said with a shrug.
Still no reaction.
"If you don't like it, we can make changes," I said, getting up to wrap my arms around her waist as she stood before one of the shelves and just stared. "I just thought this might make you feel a little more at home, now that it's just us."
A sniffle followed a tear dropping on my arm.
"I love it," she said, trying to wipe away her tears without messing up her makeup.
She left my arms and walked around the room to take a better look around.
"It's color coded," she said like this was an important detail, reaching another shelf, this one close to her desk.
"Yes it is. I tried to set it up the way you had it back at your old place based on old photos. It took a long ass time. Did I mention you have a lot of books?" I said with a snort.
Before I could reach her, she was sitting in her chair, full on ugly crying.
"What's happening?" I asked, squatting before her, genuinely concerned now. "What's wrong? Do you hate the shelves? Should we paint the room? Did I get the color coding wrong? Let's have it. We can fix it, whatever it is. Would now be the time to tell you I took a week off from work and we're leaving for Vermont tomorrow?" I said, pulling the plane tickets out of my back pocket to show them to her.
She took them from me, turned them over in between her fingers, shook her head slowly, then looked up at me and cried harder.
"Nothing's wrong. Everything's wonderful," she said, trying to pull it together. "I mean, probably yes to the last two, but," she said, tilting her tear stained face to the side.
We shared a little laugh and I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thanks, for making me feel like I belong," she said, setting the tickets aside and taking my hands in hers. "I'm such a mess now. When am I even supposed to pack?" she complained with the cutest little pout, her fingers stained with mascara.
"You look fucking hot, cute and gorgeous all at the same time," I said, lightly brushing her cheek with the back of my fingers. "My big cry baby. I already packed for you. Don't blame me if everything's a little slutty though."
"I don't own slutty clothes," she said, slapping my arm, appalled that I would say that to her.
"The fuck you don't. Half of your dresses are fuck me dresses, Stace. At least," I teased her.
I was one hundred percent biased, as I wanted her no matter what she wore, but this topic of conversation had dried up the tears, which was all I wanted.
"That is not true," she said, her voice climbing as she became defensive and blushed. "Just because you're horny all the time, doesn't mean I'm a slutty dresser."
This was the moment. The one where I should tell her she'll belong with me always. Tell her she can be my girlfriend, my future wife, or whatever else she preferred to be called. Everything was up to her now. I was finally ready for her.
"Stacy—" I began, but the doorbell cut me off. "Ignore it. They'll go away," I said, unwilling to give up our big moment for anything.
"It's probably the food I ordered. That or the box of your stuff your mom said she was sending to me," said Stacy, playfully running her fingers over mine.
"Ignore… Wait, what? My mom did what?" I asked, now frowning as this new information registered in my brain.
"She thought I should have some of your things from high school," Stacy said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Oh wow. Why? That is, just wow. Well we're torching that box. Obviously," I complained, making her burst into laughter. "This isn't funny. I feel so violated," I said, mortified.
"Why don't I let you get the door so you can decide what to do with what you find at our doorstep? I'll be in the bedroom, waiting for you," she said, stealing a kiss.
When her eyes opened again, they were burning with desire. She had gotten very familiar with my tongue and fingers while my dick was out of commission, but we were both looking forward to going back to my dick being inside her all the time. Tonight was going to be our first time in a week.
"Fine, but that box is seriously never making it to you," I said, getting up and letting go of her hands.
We walked out the door together and I turned to walk backwards so I could see her turn around in her little get up.
"God have mercy," I said, loitering about the living room, just watching her until she had closed the bedroom door.
Eager to get back to her, I turned back around and rushed to the front door. When I opened it up, my bubble of anticipation burst.
"You can't be here," I said to the woman standing on my doorstep, my blood instantly boiling. "Not after what you did."
"Is Stacy here?" Stacy's mom asked, guilt and fear on her face just like the only time I saw her before at the wake.
"Why? Weren't you the one that said you could never see each other again?" I asked, my voice laced with venom.
"Things have changed," she said.
"I don't care. Whatever it is, deal with it on your own," I snapped.
"Scott, what's taking so long?" I heard Stacy call from the living room.
"Be there in a sec, Stace. Don't come out here looking like that. That's for my eyes only," I said, trying to keep my voice light.
"It's Jenny. She won't listen to me and now—" Stacy's mom started sobbing.
Of course my stubborn girl didn't listen to me. Just as I was about to close the door on a crying elderly woman, I heard footsteps behind me. She was looking down, tying her robe when she stumbled to my side at the door.
"Mom?" she said, looking up at last. I could hear her heart break. "What's wrong?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest.
"Your mom was just leaving," I said, m
y voice ice cold.
"Jenny's missing," Stacy's mom finally spat out. "I didn't know where else to go."