Page 4 of The Flyboy's Girl
Chapter Two
Fastening my earrings in place, I take one last look in the mirror just as I hear the front door close and Mark call to the girls that the pizza is here. Smoothing my hands over my strapless black dress, I smile in surprise of the fact that after nearly twenty years of marriage, my husband still gives me butterflies.
As has been our tradition, Mark and I alternate years planning our anniversary celebration. This year, Mark was in charge and the only information he gave me was to be ready at seven for our reservations. And to dress up.
Picking up the small black clutch from the dresser, I toss in my driver’s license, lipstick and phone, and then start down stairs to meet Mark.
Halfway down the stairs, Mark comes into view. Dressed in my favorite black pinstripe suite with a crisp white shirt, his blue eyes roam over my body as a low whistle sounds from his tempting lips. Stepping up on the last step so we’re eye to eye, Mark wraps an arm around my waist. “Natalie, you look incredible,” he murmurs as his eyes dance over me once again.
“And you look incredibly handsome,” I reply running my hands over his lapels, before leaning forward to kiss him.
Taking my hand, he helps me down the remaining stairs, “You ready to go?”
“Whenever you are,” I confirm while getting my wrap from the hall closet.
“Girls, we’re leaving!” Mark calls as he helps me with my wrap.
“Wow Mom, you look beautiful,” Alana says as she steps into the foyer.
“You really do, Mom,” Zoey confirms.
“Thank you, girls.”
Feigning hurt Mark places his hand on his chest. “What, nothing for Dad? I see how it is.”
“You look very handsome too Dad,” Zoey says as she stretches up to kiss his cheek.
“Thank you sweetheart,” Mark replies.
“Okay girls, you know the drill, doors locked, no visitors, call us if you need us. We won’t be too late.”
“Got it,” they say in unison.
Checking the locks on the front door one last time, Mark leads us through the kitchen to the door leading to the garage. Opening the door Mark pushes the button to raise the garage door before walking me to the passenger side door and helping me inside. Rounding the front of the car Mark climbs in behind the wheel and starts the engine. “Are you going to give me any hints as to what you have planned for tonight?”
“I’ll give you two,” he says giving me a quick smile as he glances over at me. “There will be dinner.” He grips my hand in his and kisses the back of it. “There will be music.” Another kiss. “Other than that, you will just have to wait and see.”
Mark planned the perfect evening. Starting with dinner at Mon Véritable Amour, a French restaurant with a wait list that spans months. As part of the surprise, Mark had preordered our menu. Once the maître d showed us to our table, our waiter arrives with a bottle of champagne. Pouring us each a glass of the crisp bubbly, while detailing each course of our meal, he wishes us a happy anniversary, before he places the bottle in an ice bucket next to the table and turns toward the kitchen to check on our meal.
Raising his glass Mark began, “Happy anniversary Natalie. I can’t imagine the last twenty years without you in my life.” Touching his glass to mine, we both sip our champagne, before
The meal consisted of a wonderfully light cheese soufflé, beef bourguignon so rich and full of flavor with roasted vegetables, and a classic crème brulee for dessert.
After dinner, we spent the evening at the performing arts center, enjoying a rare performance of the only symphony composed by César Franck.
At the end of the evening, as we wait for the valet to retrieve our car, Mark asks, “Did you enjoy the evening?”
Looking up at him, the glow of the streetlights making his blue eyes sparkle, I smile and reply, “Yes, I did. Thank you for an amazing night. There’s no one else I would have rather spent the last nineteen years with.”
“Me either,” he says as he strokes my cheek. “I love you Natalie, now and always,” he whispers just before he kisses me.
The sound of a car door interrupts our moment as the valet arrives with the car. Assisting me inside and closing the door, Mark tips the valet and climbs inside turning the car toward home.
* * *
Arriving home,Mark clicks the garage door opener and pulls the car inside before turning off the ignition. We walk hand in hand to the door, inserting the key and turning the lock, Mark ushers me inside before locking the door for the night. The house is quiet as we walk from the kitchen to the foyer, but the lights are still on, alerting us that the girls are still awake. “Girls, we’re home!” I call as I return my wrap to the hall closet.
Confusion appears on Mark’s face as he checks the game room and then the living room. “They’re not there,” he says looking slightly worried.
