Page 1 of Meet Me Halfway
Vivienne
Six Months Ago
I knew from our very first date that Cal was my person, my ride-or-die, my “one.”
Our whirlwind romance culminated in the most romantic beach wedding I could have dreamed of. And now here we are, seven years in. You know – at “the seven-year itch” stage of marriage people talk about. I don’t believe in superstition and old wives’ tales, so I pay no attention to nonsense like that.
I have to admit though, it’s become glaringly obvious we’ve become complacent in our years together. I mean, in the ten minutes Callan’s been home from work, he’s changed into sweats and a T-shirt, plonked his ass on the sofa, and is now engrossed in whatever the latest multiplayer game is that he loves so much.
So I’m guessing dinner is all on me tonight. Again.
I give him the stink eye in the hopes of guilting him into giving me a hand, but I should have known better. He’s so caught up in the killing and mayhem of his game I doubt he even remembers I’m in the room anymore.
Heaving a sigh, I go over to the fridge to rummage around for the makings of our evening meal. Pickings are somewhat slim since I’ve been putting off going to the supermarket, and I finally settle on chorizo mac and cheese. One of Cal’s favourites. To ease the irritation, I pop some tunes on, and I lose myself in the rhythm of cooking.
So lost, in fact, I can’t bite back the squeak of surprise when Cal speaks from just behind me.
“Babe, with your birthday coming up soon, I’ve been thinking.” Something in the tone of his voice tips me off this isn’t going to be the usual “what would you like for your birthday” conversation.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve booked us a long weekend away.”
“Yeah?” I repeat. “Sounds good. Where are we going?”
There’s a twinkle in his eye that warns me he’s up to mischief. “Nope, sorry. Not sharing any of the details. The only reason I’ve told you that much is because I know you’ll need to organise your schedule to include the time off. The rest, well, you’re just going to have to wait and see.” He gives me a wink and that cocky grin that’s made me weak at the knees from the very start.
“Er, okay.” I’m not sure what else to say, especially since he’s a man true to his word. No amount of nagging will convince him to dish the details. I notice, now that he’s done talking, he’s about to go back to his game, so before he can, I ask, “Give me a hand with dinner?”
Much to my surprise, he replies, “Sure. What do you need me to do?”
He pours us each a glass of wine, and together we finish making our evening meal. Chatting and laughter makes the time fly by. Time spent like this with Cal always makes me happy. Cal tops our glasses up while I serve, and we sit down at the table.
Over our meal, I fish for information about the upcoming weekend away knowing full well I’m wasting my time. The only thing he eventually shares with me, and only because it’s necessary, are the dates I need to plan time off accordingly. So frustrating. I give up, knowing I’ll get nothing more out of him.
* * *
Ican’t believe how quickly the weeks have sped by.Theweekend has finally arrived, and I’m excited. The weather is atrocious. It’s a bleak and miserable day, but I refuse to allow the cold and wet to spoil our time away.
This is the first mini-vacation Cal and I have taken since I started my freelance photography business. I’ve invested nearly three years of blood, sweat, and tears into building it into the thriving enterprise it is today. To say I’m super proud of what I’ve achieved would be underselling it, big time.
But it’s meant sacrifice on our part – vacations, time off, downtime, and time spent doing all the things we loved to do together. Before taking the leap into entrepreneurship, it wasn’t unheard of for us to play hooky from work and escape to tiny hole-in-the-wall towns up and down our coastline and just lock ourselves into our accommodation all weekend long.
I’ve missed those spur-of-the-moment trips, but it wasn’t until this morning that I realised just how much. For the first time in ages, I slept in with Cal, and when we woke, made slow, sweet love. Our lovemaking always seems so hurried these days. Like we’ve got to get it done so we’re not late for an appointment.
I’d rather not dwell on these downer thoughts today. It’s my birthday tomorrow, and I’m going to enjoy every last moment of this weekend in my honour. I’m dying to know what Cal’s got planned, but he’s been more tight-lipped than a priest after confession.
He disappeared just after breakfast, saying he wouldn’t be long, he just needed to fetch last-minute supplies. That was ninety minutes ago. Lord only knows what Mr Mysterious is up to. Hopefully, he won’t be too much longer, because I can’t wait to get on the road and discover where we’re going.
Tucking my toiletry bag into my little suitcase, I zip that sucker up and wheel it down the hall to place it beside Cal’s bag near the front door. I wander over to the kitchen, and I’m about to switch the kettle on to make myself a cup of coffee while I wait when I hear a vehicle in the drive.
Retracing my steps, I see his vehicle outside. He spots me at the window, and I wave. He grins back, hopping out and making his way over to the house. I’ve already got the door open by the time he reaches it. Throwing my arms around him, I draw in the familiar scent of his cologne. Placing tiny kisses on the skin exposed by the open buttons of his casual shirt, I relish the anticipation of the weekend to come – just the two of us, alone, with nothing else to do but each other.
Yes, please.
“If I’d known you’d be this excited over a weekend away, I’d have done this long ago.” He laughs.
“Come on, come on. Let’s get going, to wherever we’re going. I don’t want to wait anymore. It’s cruel and unusual punishment to make me wait, but not tell me anything. Seriously.”
