I’m still shy about being affectionate in front of everyone else, but this time I don’t hesitate to lean in and kiss Christopher, long and slow, for everyone to see.
“All right!” Sula says, springing up from her chair toward the vintage record player behind her. “Time to dance. Not only is it Jules’s and Bea’s fortieth birthdays—”
“Hey!” they call, offended.
“Okay, fine, thirtieth,” Sula concedes, sifting through the records, “but it’s a celebration of love!”
“Ooh, wait,” I tell her, breaking away reluctantly from Christopher, then rushing over to the record player. “Let me.”
I find just the record I wanted and lift the needle. As it drops with a crackle, followed by a burst of the tango’s opening bars, I turn and stroll his way.
“Christopher.”
He grins up at me from his seat on the floor, a flash of excitement in his handsome eyes. “Katerina.”
I offer a hand, smiling at the man I love with all my heart. “May I have this dance?”
Christopher takes it and stands, then pulls me tight against him. One slow step, then another, a quick, breathless turn. Finally, a weightless, thrilling dip that I knew was coming.
He presses a kiss beneath my ear and whispers, “I thought you’d never ask.”
* * *
—
Each time I leave home, it’s harder. Of course, I still love experiencing new places for assignments, meeting new people, telling new stories. But the ache gets a little sharper, the longing lingers a little more, every time I’m gone from home.
I should be soaking up the white-hot beauty of Croatia in July, proud and happy that my work for this long-form piece on female entrepreneurship and growing economies is coming together so well, but as I sit, eating my meal and staring at the glorious view of the Adriatic Sea at sunset, all I can think about is how much damn fun we had at my sisters’ birthday party last week, how Mom and Dad came over and joined in on the dance party, how I talked so much and laughed so hard my voice was hoarse by the time I saw people off, and then after everyone was gone, and Christopher made love to me over and over, I screamed in pleasure so much I lost my voice completely.
Turning back to my food, I poke an olive listlessly.
But then a shadow cuts across my little table, swallowing up the sun and turning the world as bleak as I feel inside.
I frown up from my plate, prepared to tell whoever’s standing over me to move along, when I freeze.
Christopher stands there, breathtaking—sandstone slacks draping down his long, solid legs, a linen shirt rolled up to his elbows, golden sunlight spilling around his windblown dark hair. His amber eyes glow, warm and soft, as he stares down at me. “Hi, Katydid.”
My fork drops to the plate. Tears blur my vision. “What the hell?” I croak.
Then I launch myself at him, knocking a shocked, deep laugh out of Christopher as he wraps his arms around me, swinging me around. “What are you doing here?” I shriek.
“Following you like a lovesick fool, of course,” he says, before kissing me, slow and sweet. “I’ve been practicing while you’ve traveled for work, taking domestic flights and using those chances to do some more widespread networking. Once I could fly coast to coast, my therapist and I agreed I could probably survive a transatlantic flight.”
My heart clutches. I set my hand over his chest, soothing it gently. “And did you?”
He tips his head side to side. “Eh, it was touch and go. I have a hunch being with you on my flight home will help. And that means I’ll just have to fly with you everywhere from now on.”
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks as I laugh. “And here I was, moping, being homesick, and deciding that my traveling-for-work days were over.”
“Well now, I won’t complain if you want to stay home more,” he says, before he presses a kiss to my lips. “But I’m not giving up travel with you either. I think there’s a happy balance there for us, waiting to be found.”
“I think so, too.” I kiss him, hungry and deep, drawing him close. “Let’s go to bed.”
“Katerina,” he says, feigning offense, as my hands start to wander down his back, lower, over his backside. “I just got here, and you’re objectifying me already.”
“Damn right, I am.”
He laughs into my hair as he hoists me higher, wrapping my legs around his waist. A hefty wad of local cash lands on the table before he starts to walk us down the road. “Where’s your place?” he asks, kissing me as he speaks. “Please tell me it’s close.”