LifeStyles

Sixty-Six - Part I

I am literally walking on flower petals for the pathway is strewn in their softness. A sudden sharp gust swirls a handful up from the floor, taking the silk layers of my apricot dress with it. My fingers splay wide over my thighs in an attempt to control the delicate fabric from causing me a Marilyn Monroe moment. As the breeze subsides the petals float gracefully down to rest in the flowerbeds and my skirt swishes elegantly to a calm around my knees.

This dress is simply the most gorgeous piece of clothing I have ever worn. The tight fitting bodice has rows of delicately ruched pleats that accentuate over the curves of my breasts as they spiral down to the waistband. The design bares my shoulders but hides my bruises and its halter-neck finishes with a black ribbon tied at the bow at my neck.

I feel both sexy in the fit and girly in the flow of it. I would normally wear heels but my recovering ankles dictate my footwear at the moment so black velvet ballet pumps and a black hairband finish off the very 'me' outfit. Whoever chose it knows me well for it is a perfect choice. I suspect Mum but in reality it is more likely to be Olive.

I venture through these gardens that have gifted me so much pleasure during my twenty-one years on this planet, including meeting the man I am headed to find. I smile inwardly to myself at how lucky I am to have so many heartfelt memories wrapped up in one special place.   

Flickering tea lights in decorated jam jars are dotted at regular intervals along the path to guide me along.  An array of fabric bunting, tissue paper pom-poms and paper flower fans mix with clusters of pearlised lavender, rose and silver balloons all hang from the trees above me. They sway and bump into one another in the warmth of the late afternoon. 

Indulging in my musings of him and his thoughtfulness for me in each and every detail of the beautiful vintage decorations that fill every part of this garden, before I know it I have arrived at the orchard.

I do not make my presence known immediately. Instead, I peer from behind the branches at the scene before me. And there he is, my Handsome all in black.

I take this personal moment to myself to gaze at him. He leans casually against the vast Oak with one foot crossed over the other. With his fixated glance upon his phone screen, his curls fall forward in ringlets. Just watching him from this small distance stirs my insides into a frenzy.

He chuckles to himself with enjoyment at something as he flips his hair back, running his fingers through the top then titivating his curls to settle them properly again around his shoulders.

He glances at the arm of his shirt where some green powdery moss has dusted the fabric. He pushes off the tree trunk with his shoulder and articulates a hushed expletive whilst brushing his hand down the sleeve to rid the silk of the mark. Checking each cufflink at his wrists, he pulls on his jacket and shakes his hands out before letting them fall naturally to his sides. He appears a little nervous but then knowing him, only perfect will do.

All of this surprise is him putting me before anyone else. He always does that, always. I gasp in hard at the thought that it propels me to take a step back and disturbs some twigs underfoot. His head shoots up from his phone with a frown pulled across his brow that quickly filters away to be replaced with a jutting out of his chin and squinting towards the branches. The corners of his lips turn up into a smile. He places his phone in his pocket and stands tall.

"If there is someone there, show yourself," he addresses with a hint of amusement into the empty space.

I giggle remembering back to the very first time we met in this exact spot. "You should be with your Mum right now so are trespassing on this property." I reply cheekily.

"At least have the courtesy to show yourself or I might have to call the police!" He chortles and folds his arms across his chest.

He remembers. "I have every right to be here for the rhyme on the door clearly stated my name as the birthday girl. What is your excuse?" I tease.

"Well, I am the boyfriend of said birthday girl and the birthday host but in truth I am only here for kisses!"

I sweep the branches aside and step into view. His wide smile disappears and his green eyes widen as I wander slowly towards him. Coming to stand in from of him, I raise my chin and hold his gaze. "Hello you," whispers from my lips.

He looks down on me with a coy streak across his features and returns my sentiment. "Hi, Beautiful birthday girl."

In the weight of the moment, there is a pause where we cannot break our obsessed eyes from each other. He gathers me to him, entwining his hands at the base of my back and resting his forehead against mine.

"My God, look at you, you are glowing," he rasps out of breath the words.

Little emotional speckles prick across my nose causing my nostrils to flare as I try to hold back my tears. No one has ever made me feel the way he does. I close my eyes to breathe him in and he tenderly pecks my lips.

"Handsome, how, when, what? You did all this for me, I don't know what to say." I gush. The heat of his chest is warmly inviting under my palms.

"Nothing escapes me you should know that by now but I can't take all the credit, I did have a little help from your nearest and dearest," he chimes rubbing the tip of his nose over mine.

"You read my medical notes?" I pout, pushing my pointer finger into between the valley between his pecks.

He raises his eyebrows and chuckles. "You were otherwise engaged and in any case, it was for birthday purposes," he defends as he sways us soothingly from side to side.

I screw my nose up at him and concur. "Let you off then."

"I should think so, now kiss me," he demands sexily.

My fingers surf through the waves of his hair and I pull his lips to mine. We stand in the middle of the orchard and kiss over and over and over.

Harry finally breaks our passionate connection leaving my lips tingling with him.

"As much as I would love to stand around here kissing you all day, we have celebrations to attend to. I know it isn't your actual big day until tomorrow but I wanted us to celebrate together. So, would you prefer gifts first or are you hungry?" He questions.

"Harry, this is gift enough, you didn't have-, " I exclaim gently but he cuts me off.

"It's your birthday.  I did this because I want to share in all your world," he declares sweetly.

"You are not mad at me?" He doesn't seem so but I have to ask.

"No. I was a little surprised when you didn't confess. When I took a moment to think about it though, to put myself in your shoes, you are so selfless I know you would never ask me to choose you over my family."

"I just thought your Mum needed you more." I protest gently in my defence.

"That means more to me than you will ever know." He places his arm around my shoulder, pulling me to him and resting his lips on my forehead. "But you have to start believing that you are the most important to me. You.  Understand?"

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry."

He pulls back and runs his finger over my lips. "It is all irrelevant now because we are here, exactly where we should be." Then he kisses me again before bending down to reach around the tree trunk.

He cradles my hand over his and places the small box in my palm. It is wrapped in shiny lilac paper and tied with white ribbon with navy dots. I unwrap it carefully but pause before I lift the lid. I have a feeling this is the start of a birthday that I am never going to forget.