A Romantic Story Part Four - The next day
This is a continuation of my Romantic Story - a series of scenes involving a couple completely, romantically, and passionately in love.
She stirs. Enjoys the softness of the sheets, the stillness of the room. It feels like a dream. She stretches and opens hers eyes.
He is sitting in a large chair with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. She wonders how long he has been sitting there watching her, pretending to read that paper. She smiles and pulls the sheet over her head coyly. She knows she looks a total mess, but after last night she’d be a fool to think it really mattered.
He hasn’t read a single word of the paper. For nearly an hour he has been sipping coffee and watching her sleep. She is beautiful lying there. It warms his heart to see her that way. Relaxed. She was snoring ever so softly as she slept. He can’t wait to tease her about this one. It isn’t often that he is the one with the ammo.
He walks up to the woman-sized lump in the bed and kisses her sheet covered forehead. She doesn’t put up much of a fight when he pulls the sheet down revealing her still sleepy eyes and adorable nose.
The First Three Scenes
- A romantic story part one - The Dinner Date
He leads her to a small table in a quiet restaurant. It is a late hour for dinner and most of the tables are empty. He pulls out her chair. She sits. He sits across from her. The only light is from a few well placed candles. A waiter approaches and,.
- A romantic story part two - The Lake
This story begins with two lovers sharing an intimate meal that ends with a kiss. You can read it first, or enjoy this and then go back to see how it began. After what seems like an eternity, their lips part. Slowly. If you were to ask them, they...
- A Romantic Story Part Three - The Evening
This is Part Three of an evolving series of Romantic Stories. Each scene works on its own, as well as in the series. You are welcome to start here, or you can begin with the first. You will find the links to the first two scenes by scrolling down....
“Coffee?” He offers her his cup. She answers with a smile and reaches for the cup. She holds it to her like a greedy orphan guarding a bowl of porridge. Such innocent joy from such a simple thing as a morning cup of coffee. Little things like this are why he loves her. Not her striking beauty. Not her brilliant mind. Not the way she dresses. Not her profession. It’s her spirit. Her kind heart. The way she allows him to love her.
She sits in bed and sips the coffee. He climbs into the bed and puts his arms around her. She feels safe, loved. This is why she loves him. Not for his money or his title. Not because he is handsome. It is his heart. His soul. The way he loves her. The way he makes her feel about herself. And the way he lets her love him.
They stay there simply enjoying the feeling of being close. There is a stillness about them that seems nothing can disturb. They are in their own universe. Just the two of them. Warm, soft, content.
He stops the car in front of her house. He knows there will be no invitation inside, but he holds his breath anyway. Hoping. She gives him a gentle kiss and with her eyes, thanks him for a wonderful weekend. She turns and opens her car door and steps out. Just as she always does at the end of their dates.
He watches her walk to the front door. Always waiting until she is inside safely, plus a bit longer, before he drives away. He wants to be sure that she is inside and ok. And to be sure that she isn’t coming back out. He wishes one of these times she would. She never does. Yet he is convinced one of these times is going to be different. He is hoping this might be it.
She walks to the front door and opens it. Just like she has done so many times. She looks out to the curb as she slowly shuts the door. He is still there. She knew he would be. He always waits until she is safely inside with door shut, plus a moment more. It makes her feel good knowing that he is watching out for her. She wonders too if perhaps he isn’t ready to leave her just yet.
She stands behind the closed door. She wrestled with the thought of asking him in. She wants to. But just like every other time, she stayed silent. She is holding her breath. Hoping. Listening. Waiting for him to shut off the engine and come to the door. He never does. She is convinced one of these times it will happen. She is hoping this might be it.
He drives away slowly. As he does, he experiences the same mix of emotions he has since the first time. Elation at the beautiful moments they spent together. Heartbreak at leaving her. Excitement at the anticipation of their next meeting. It always leaves him a bit out of sorts. So many feelings for such a stoic gentleman to endure. It’s been a long time since he has felt any of these feelings, let alone a flood of them all at once.
He considers stopping on his way home. For a stiff drink, a strong cup of coffee, some fresh air in the park. Anything to steady himself. But he doesn’t. He needs to get home. She will be expecting him. What would she think if he arrived much later? Sure, she would say it’s fine. She always does. But he made a promise to care for her. He should be there. He keeps driving.
She steps away from the door and into the house. As she does she feels a rush of emotions. Smiling from head to toe at of the wonderfully romantic moments. Her chest heavy with the ache of parting from him once again. Childlike elation at the thought of their next meeting. She is glowing, pouting, and blushing all at once. It seems like forever since she has felt anything like these feelings, and never all of them at once.
She struggles to shake it off and compose herself. There are things to do before he gets home. Is there something to make for dinner? Lunch the next day? What about clean work clothes? If not for the week, at least for tomorrow. She always feels one step behind where she needs to be. She opens her jewelry box and hesitates for just a moment before slipping the ring back onto her finger.