Page 58 of Yours, Unexpectedly

I glance over at Bex to gauge her reaction, and just as I’d hoped, her eyes are glued to the walls.

“Ah, first time for the lady?” the maître d’ asks. I nod and he continues, explaining the history of the bar. “Bemelman’s Bar is a favorite among New York locals. Historic due to the murals on the wall painted by Ludwig Bemelman. You might recognize his art from the classic children’s book Madeline, of which he was the author and illustrator. The walls of the room depict a scene from an ideal 1940’s trip to Central Park.”

“It’s magical,” Bex breathes. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Yes, it is quite exquisite. Please, have a seat but feel free to get up and walk around, examining the art to your heart's content. We close in about thirty minutes to the general public, but of course we can stay open later for a guest of Mr. Olsson.” He turns to me and gives me a wink. I’ll make sure to generously tip the staff before we leave. “My name is Raphael if you need anything at all.”

We slide into the corner booth and Bex immediately cuddles under my arm. “How did you know?”

“I might have seen a collection of Madeline books at the Bardot house a time or two when perusing the bookshelves. I assumed they didn’t belong to your brothers, but I wasn’t completely sure they were yours.”

The pianist continues to play as Bex’s eyes wander the walls of the bar, finally landing on me. She’s beaming, her lush lips parted on a disbelieving laugh. “Mom used to read Madeline to me all the time. It might be the earliest memory I have, snuggled up in bed with her, reading about ‘twelve little girls in two straight lines.’ Her mom read them to her as a child and some of the copies we have are originals, practically falling apart at the seams from how many times we’ve read through them. I can’t believe you brought me here.”

She reaches up to cup my cheek, giving me a soft, slow kiss. It’s not hurried or lust filled. It feels… intimate.

“I would bring you anywhere. I want to bring you everywhere.” It feels like I’m admitting too much to her, but when I meet her eyes they are filled with understanding. My hand comes up to trace the moles and freckles across her collar bone. “Let’s get you a drink and then I have one more thing to show you.”

They kept the bar open an extra thirty minutes after everyone else left. The pianist continued to play our own private concert, and I couldn’t help but guide Bex out of the booth so I could pull her close. A different kind of dance than the others we’d done tonight.

This dance was relaxed and informal. Two people swaying to music we could hear, but also creating our own music with the slow push and pull of our bodies. More of a moving embrace than an actual dance. With every touch, kiss, and breath I was trying to convey to Bex how serious I am about her. About us. That I’m so, terribly close to falling. Probably already have, if I’m being honest. Words that I couldn’t say out loud, but somehow I think she heard all the same.

Eventually the pianist steps away and we continue moving in our own little world. However, I have one more surprise in store for Bex tonight. I signal for Raphael and he appears beside us instantly. “Right this way, Mr. Olsson and Miss Bardot.”

“Where are we going now?” Bex asks, her expression eager.

“Just one more stop and then I promise we can go back to the hotel,” I reply.

Raphael escorts us to the service elevator, using his key card to access the rooftop. Once we get up there, I walk Bex to the end of the hallway and knock six times on the door.

“Why six knocks? I noticed you did that when we were at Louie’s too,” Bex whispers.

I turn to her, pulling her body flush against mine. My hand comes back up to her collar bone, perfectly framed in her dress tonight. I touch each one of her moles as I count, “One…” I drag my finger to the next one. “Two… three…” I dip down to the top of her breast. “Four… this one is my favorite.” I wink and she rolls her eyes. My finger continues its path, back up to her collar bone, finishing on top of her left shoulder. “Five… Six. The amount of times I’ve wanted to run my hand over the perfect little constellation that makes its way across your chest. It’s absurd really, but I love it. So when I think of a number associated with you, I think six. We also met six years ago, but I don’t know how much of that you remember.”

“I remember,” she breathes, right as the door swings open and we’re granted access to the rooftop. She turns toward the open door, letting out a gasp as her hand comes up to cover her mouth.

The rooftop boasts a grand view of Central Park and the lit up skyline of Manhattan. It’s one of my absolute favorite places in the city. “My grandmother lived at the Carlyle before she passed away several years ago. I became close with the staff, many of whom still work here. She used to sneak me into Bemelman’s before I was old enough to drink, and she loved to convince Raphael to bring us up here on nice nights.”

“It’s breathtaking.” She’s talking about the view, but watching her is what’s taking my breath away right now.

Bex is lit only by the city lights, glowing in an almost angelic sense. Her curly hair makes the perfect halo around her face, almond eyes take in the view before turning back toward me. She slides her arms around my waist, resting her chin on my chest. “Tonight has been perfect,” she whispers.

“You’re perfect,” is my reply.

She grins, spinning in my arms and pulling her phone out of her dress.

“Those pockets have come in handy, I see.”

“I swear, every article of clothing for women should have pockets. Have you ever noticed that babies have tiny pockets on their clothes, but we don’t get pockets?! It’s insane.”

“I can honestly say I’ve never noticed that,” I chuckle as she raises her phone up to take a selfie. “Whatcha doing, Baby Bardot?”

“You got a new picture tonight, and I want one too.” She maneuvers us so the skyline glows in the background. I loop my arms over her shoulders, pulling her close and putting my chin on her head. She makes a silly face and I burst out laughing, right as she takes the picture. “Figured I needed a new background now that I have a boyfriend.”

That word from her mouth is music to my ears. “Damn straight you do. Now, do you want to continue to enjoy the view or should we head back to the hotel?”

She immediately pockets her phone, back going ramrod straight as she bounces up and down, tugging on my arm. “Hotel. Please. Now.” She punctuates each word with a kiss.

“Needy, needy, Baby Bardot.” I sling my arm over her shoulders and tuck her close to me, quickly kissing her temple. “Come on, I have plans for you.”

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