Til Death Do Us Part

She opened an eye. Strands of hair hung in her face. Puckering one side of her mouth, she blew out a burst of air. The strands moved, not much, but enough to see him laying there, his face inches from hers and smiling.

“What?” she said, covering her mouth.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are today?”

She rolled onto her back and groaned. “Oh, please.”

“You are.”

She side-eyed him with a wry glance. “I just blistered your face with a hot, sour breath like the south end of a northbound cow. My eyes are puffy, and my hair looks like a rat’s nest,” she scoffed, “and you’re full of crap.”

He chuckled. “I see you every day and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

She pitched her eyebrows up. “You looking for a little morning special? A little sugar?”

“Just a kiss to start my day.”

She obliged him with not one, but two, then pushed him away. “Even I can’t stand my dragon breath.” She rolled away from him onto her side and reached for her phone on the nightstand. “God. Six-thirty. Please tell me it’s Saturday.”

“Close. TGIF.” He leaned across the bed and hugged her. “Bad day yesterday?” He kissed her shoulder.

“The whole week’s been bad.”

She sat up, yawning, rolling her head from shoulder to shoulder; standing, she stretched her arms wide, a sensual crucifix of soft, pale flesh, her long tresses of obsidian hair cascading down her back. His mouth watered at the sensuous lines and graceful curves traversing her legs, over her hips, from her narrow waist to her shoulders.

“God, you’re stunning.” Desire warmed him from his toes to his head.

She glanced over her shoulder, smirking. “You’ve got it bad.” She flung the drapes open. He screamed and plunged under the blankets.

“Ah! Close the curtains! Please!” He gritted his teeth. His skin burned. His eyes flashed like dying embers.

“What? Are you okay?" She tugged at the blankets, but he held a tight grip. "You keep this place so dark and dreary. Get some sunshine. Warmth. Smiles.”

Lips tensed, he drew through his nose a deep breath. “It’s the only way I can work. Be creative.”

“You’re so silly.” She closed the drapes and faced him. “But there will be some changes after we’re married.”

He peeked from under the blankets, grinning. Her hands on her hips, she leered at him.

“I promise,” he said, “but first, could you get dressed? I have a huge project to work on, and seeing you like that makes it difficult to concentrate.”

She batted her eyebrows up and down and wiggled her breasts and hips.

“That’s not fair.” Burying his face in the blankets, he listened to her chuckle all the way into the bathroom. He laid there. Calm down. Deep breaths. His heart rate subsiding to normal, he checked the alarm tucked into a cubbyhole in the headboard. The shower door clicked shut. He closed his eyes and dreamed. The image of sheets of water flowing over her, the sheen of her nakedness—. “Christ!” He sat up and patted his face with his hands. “Get dressed or you won’t get anything done.”

He leaped up and threw on a pair of tattered jeans and a sweatshirt. Knocking on the bathroom door, he opened it a smidge to a rolling cloud of steam. “Hey, babe. Coffee?”

“Black. Thanks. You’re sweet.”

“Cereal? Toast? Eggs? Banana?”

She cracked the shower door open, a broad smile pinching her cheeks. “You got it bad.”

He winked. “Every day. Til death do us part.”

“Get out of here.”

He heard her laughing as she moved under the shower. Yes. Til death do us part.

###

Forty-five minutes later, she strode out of the bedroom in a navy-blue pencil skirt and matching jacket. He leaned against the kitchen counter, legs crossed at the ankles, and sipping coffee from a mug. She stopped.

“Well. How do I look?” she asked, holding her hands out from her sides and turning a slow circle.

“Like a million bucks?” He handed her a steaming coffee in a matching mug.

She sneered. “Where’d you hear that comment? From your grandfather?”

He chuckled. “Uh, huh.”

“Dated…but thanks.” She leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. As she backed away, he put his free hand behind her head and pulled her back, kissing her long and deep. “Mmmmm,” she moaned, abruptly breaking the clench, her arm extended, and the hand firmly planted against his chest. Flushed, she said, breathless, “Stop.” Be still my beating heart. She waved her hand in front of her face, stepped back, and straightened her jacket and skirt. He moved toward her, but she pointed at him and frowned. “Stay.”

He laughed. “Yes, master. Shall I sit, too?”

She giggled, and then they broke into raucous laughter.

“Don’t be a jerk,” she said, still snickering. “Your clients must have a difficult time saying no to you.”

“Yes, but I don’t kiss them like I kiss you . . . ah . . . I mean, I don’t kiss them at all.” He gave her a wide-eyed smile.

She blushed a deep rouge, then laughed. “God. I hope you don’t kiss any of them—especially the girls.”

He tipped his head toward the toaster. “Bagel?”

“Just a half. I’m late.” She flashed a mock glare.

He ignored the look and spread cream cheese on a half a bagel.

“By the way,” she sipped her coffee, “what’s this project you’re working on? As if you don’t spend enough late nights over there. You never told me about this one.”

The butter knife froze in his hand. There was an imperceptible hitch in his breathing. He stared at the bagel.

“Ah . . .” He cleared his throat, then resumed spreading the cream cheese. “The boss dropped it on me a couple of days ago. A special promotion. Major client. Last-minute stuff. The usual.” He handed her the bagel. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Wow. You haven’t been there that long, and he’s given you a major client? Doesn’t he ever give you a break? All those late nights. I don’t know how you do it.”

A hint of awkwardness rode the corners of his mouth. “I’ve been there nearly a year.”

“Wait. We’ve been together for six months. I thought you said you didn’t have a job when we met.”

His eyes narrowed. “No. We met a year ago last Christmas, and yes, I was out of a job. But when we moved in together, seven months ago, I had started this job. And as far as a major client being given to this—new guy—this isn’t my first rodeo in promotion and public relations. They recruited me.”

“Oh.” She took another sip and a bite of bagel. "Maybe if he didn't work you so hard, your skin would look better. What are those red splotches?"

He touched a tender spot on his cheek. "That? No, I think it's the soap I'm using. I tried something new but it's not working." 

“Sorry.” Another gulp. “Gotta go.” Another bite. He dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin, then wrapped his arms around her. She put her hand up to his mouth. “One. Kiss. Only.” He kissed the inside of her hand, then tickled the knuckles with the tip of his tongue. “On my God!” she said, a look of disgust twisting her face. “You’re so bad.” She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and rushed toward the door, slinging her purse over her shoulder and grabbing her briefcase. She called back to him as she walked out, “See you tonight, babe, and don’t forget about our date,” and shut the apartment door.

He crossed to the bedroom, but stopped at the foyer when the door opened again. She stuck her head in. “. . . and do something about this dismal darkness. Maybe open at least one curtain? This place is so dreary.”

He waved, nodding profusely and mouthed, “Yes. Okay. I will.”

The door closed, and her clicking heels faded in the distance. His head lolled against his shoulders. “That was too close. I got to tell her.” He marched through the bedroom and into the bathroom, standing before the wall-sized mirror. He massaged a large, painful spot on his forearm where the sunlight had seared the hair. Footsteps approached, followed by, “Hey, babe. I . . ,” and a sudden gasp. He raised his head, dread washing over him.

Shocked filled her eyes. Her mouth gaped. They both stared at the mirror. Only one reflection stared back—hers. The shock drifted from her face, replaced by confusion, then resignation.

“Babe,” he said, his voice stumbling for the right words. “I can—”

A gentle smile, acceptance, caressed her lips and she raised her eyes toward the ceiling, lifting her chin and exposing the supple flesh of her neck. Her voice resolute, she said, “Til death do us part.”