Maybe I shouldn’t have booked anything for tonight. I
did anticipate that I’d want to tear Adley’s clothes off the
second I had her alone in this room, but I also anticipated that
maybe that’s not what’s best for her. I thought that if we were
here, I wanted to get in as much pampering as possible. I
wanted to treat her to a massage and a romantic dinner. Do it
right. I even ordered champagne and strawberries for after
dinner. They’ll be here in the room when we get back.
Adley runs her hand over the sheets again and
straightens, smiling at me. She looks different when she’s
completely comfortable. It’s not a look I see on her often, I
realize, and that sucks. I want her to be okay with me. I want
her to be able to let her guard down.
I was hoping when we were going for our massage to
be able to try to talk to her about her past. I thought it would
be okay. We’d both be relaxed. Comfortable. Getting all the
tension rubbed out of our muscles. What better time to talk?
We pretty much have to head down to the spa right
away to be in time for our massage, since we have to fill out
forms for health reasons and get undressed and into the robes
they give us.
Yes. I’m definitely sorry that I booked the massage. I
should have skipped it and just booked dinner. Or skipped all
of it. Adley flutters around the room, taking in everything,
touching everything, even bending to smell things. The couch.
The desk. The chair. Everything’s classy and expensive and
she touches the things reverently, with awe, like she’s never
seen anything like them before. I know that’s impossible, but
her reaction to just the small things thrills me.
The massage and dinner were the right move. I can