The Honeymoon

Hey-ohhh!  

I know we've already moved past Grey & Maggie's honeymoon with THE DINNER (a whole series of vignettes- easy enough to find since they are all labled THE DINNER.  check em out sometime!), but here's a little taste of when they first arrive.  if you haven't checked out their drive up to the resort, I think you should.  His perspective and hers are together in a double entry.  god I love saying that.  ok.

well.

Enjoy!

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Grey inserted the little plastic card and withdrew it with none of the fuss that usually accompanies such a transaction.  He pushed down on the smooth nickel handle and opened the door inward to reveal a room like Maggie had never seen.

She stood, rooted to her spot just outside the threshold, and couldn’t hope to keep her face the neutral mask she so desperately wanted to present.  She didn’t want him to know how stunned and overwhelmed the sight of such luxury made her, but she couldn’t help it.  He’d grown up with a silver spoon, this was probably old hat to him, completely unspectacular.  He held the door open for her and waited patiently for her to recover her senses.  When, after a moment she had failed to do little besides stare, he finally spoke.

“Would you like me to carry you over the threshold Mrs. Delaney?”

Something unnerving skittered down the length of her spine at the sound of his voice and she blushed, like she did everytime when he referred to her like that.  She wondered if he’d tire of the snide little jest, or if she’d ever get used to being Mrs. Delaney.

Maggie snapped her jaw closed firmly and lifted her chin a fraction before taking a full breath and breezing into the immense and incredible suite.  The sun was setting and now she understood just why Mrs. Delaney, her new mother-in-law, had been so adamant that they arrive in time to catch this marvelous time of day.  A warm, brilliant amber-pink glow pierced and suffused the suite with a brilliance and an ambiance that was stunning, vital and, well, there was no other word for it: it was undeniably romantic.  Maggie sincerely hoped that the orangey glow from the expansive span of French windows would be effective in hiding the full-body blush that had swept over her at the sight of the enormous bed sprinkled in rose petals and complete with a tray containing a bottle of champagne in a silver champagne bucket, two upturned champagne glasses, a crystal goblet full of strawberries and a single perfect rosebud in a tall, slim vase.

She heard the door click closed behind her, but didn’t turn.  She wanted to remember this room exactly how it stood in that moment; perfect and lovely and bathed in a soft, sweet glow.  She knew it was all an illusion, that the spell couldn’t last and they’d be two people co-habiting a honeymoon suite with no plans at all for a honeymoon.  But she wanted to savor this moment of make-believe that Grey’s mother had gifted them with, just wanted to take a mental picture and lock it away before a week of bickering and cold stares and guilt and blame tore the romantic reverie apart.

There was a marble fireplace and a built-in dark wood unit that likely housed a television, there was a lovely kitchenette with a pair of stools at a breakfast bar.  By the expanse of French windows there was an exquisite round dining table with four finely upholstered chairs.  There was an entire living room.  Not too far from the enormous bed there was also a sleek, built-in hot tub.  Right out in the open. In a romantic recessed alcove, like a hedonistic twist on an apse.  Maggie blushed again.

She moved slowly in and through the space admiring the undeniably luxurious details of everything.  The color palette was soft and modern, coffee and espresso and black and cream with nickel details on knobs and trim and with deep crimson accents in pillows and in area rugs and of course in the embarrassing display of rose petals.

They had access to a sizeable balcony, complete with sun chairs and an outdoor loveseat, but Maggie knew it would be too cold to do much more than go out and peek at the view before coming back in to get toasty.  She imagined June brides would take full advantage of such a balcony on their honeymoons.

As she ran a tentative finger along the rich damask window treatments she heard the metallic ding and crush of the ice in the champagne bucket and startled. She looked over her shoulder to where Grey was examining the wine and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt.  He hadn’t worn a tie.  She’d never seen him wear one.  The jacket he’d been wearing was already shed and she spied it curved over the back of a very dramatic looking upholstered chaise in the region of that daring hot tub.

“We’re accumulating quite a selection.”  He remarked before plopping the bottle back into its icy seat and sighing.  He scanned the room almost disinterestedly and finally found her eyes.

She stared at him, in the dying light of their wedding day, and wished she didn’t find him so attractive.  His hair was perfect, despite the hours-long drive.  His stubble was growing in much darker than it had been this morning and sense memory told her exactly what it would feel like under her fingertips, beneath her lips, on the sensitive skin around her nipples, and lower too.  She bit her lower lip and reprimanded herself for wishing, even for a moment, that this could be a real honeymoon.

Because she hated him.  He was arrogant and selfish and self-centered and cruel and he’d broken her heart and worse.  She didn’t love him anymore.  She loathed him.

But she couldn’t convince her body to this way of thinking.  Whenever she was around him her body responded as if they’d never broken up.  It responded to the scent of him, to the rich timbre of his voice, and most especially to those dangerous pale-green eyes.  She sighed and willed the swarm of butterflies in her abdomen to be still.  He wasn’t hers anymore and she wasn’t his.  Not really.

“What’s the note say?”  She asked, her voice surprisingly thick and dusky.  She cleared her throat and hoped he hadn’t detected anything incriminating about her tone or her posture or in the depth of her stare.

She couldn’t be sure but she thought she saw his gaze flick up and down her body before he turned his attention to the little note accompanying the champagne and strawberries.  Her breathing was shallow.  Even if he hadn’t looked her over the way he always used to, the way that made her nipples stand on end and a forbidden pulse jump below her navel, even if he hadn’t just done it, her body insisted on reacting as though he had, and Maggie stole an appreciative up-and-down of him while he reached for the note and scanned the message.

He was gorgeous.  She almost resented how good looking he was.  She wished he wasn’t aware of how devastatingly handsome he was.  He’d used his good looks as a tool against her, and against dozens, maybe more than a hundred girls, and she wished that fact could help sure-up her resolve to hate the very sight of him.

“Congratulations Newlyweds—relax, indulge, and enjoy.  Much Love, XO, XO, Mum & Dad.”  Grey sounded apathetic and maybe a little snide as he read it.  He tossed the card back to the tray carelessly.

He grabbed a few strawberries from the crystal goblet and waltzed toward the bathroom.

She blushed.  Holy Mother.  It occurred to her that he might need to use the bathroom, while she was there in the hotel room.  Maybe she would leave, go for a walk, visit the gift shop or something and give him his privacy.  She took a breath and tried to calm herself down, tried to be rational about it.  They were going to be living together after this; was she supposed to leave the house every time he needed to use the restroom?  At that moment the idea didn’t feel so farfetched.

She’d never lived with anyone besides her family.  Her Papa and her little sister.  She’d never lived with a near stranger, nor shared a hotel room with one.

“Do you prefer to shower in the evening or the morning?”  He called, his voice bouncing off the tiled walls and floor of what sounded like a fairly cavernous bathroom.

Her tongue felt sluggish.  “The night.”  She called weakly.  “If that’s alright?”

Her father had always been a morning shower guy so Essie and Maggie had made it a habit to shower at night.

He emerged from the bathroom and peered at the hot tub.  “Fine.”  He said.  “I could use a soak after that drive.”  He said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking pensive.  His eyes flicked up to hers, and he caught her staring.  “I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”  He said in a challenging voice.

“I can find somewhere to go.”  She replied quickly and he rolled his eyes.

“I was just kidding.”  He said irritably and bit into an over-large strawberry.

She hadn’t thought to bring her swimsuit either.  It was January, after all.  And she’d been in something like a mad panic at the thought of being cooped up with Grey somewhere for a week.  For a ‘honeymoon’.  Ay Dios.

“You hungry?”  He asked, strolling toward the mini kitchen and opening an empty refrigerator.

She couldn’t help admiring the way he walked into a space and seemed to own it.  Make it his.  She was still walking as if on eggshells, but he was behaving as if all this was built and appointed solely for his pleasure.  Maybe that attitude was a result of being enormously wealthy.

She felt a little like she ought to be working for him, and she scolded herself for even thinking such a thing.  She was his wife.  Legally she was every bit his equal.  She needed to get used to it, embrace it and come to terms with it for the sake of her child.  What good would it do the baby to grow up feeling as though its’ mother was inferior to its’ rich, handsome, powerful father?  She needed to call on all her inner strength and stand up to him and hold her own.

“I am.”  She answered.  All the nausea of the morning and afternoon had passed and she was quite famished.  “Thanks for the milkshake.”  She added.  It had been just the perfect thing. 

“Don’t mention it.”  He said, his brow drawing together in a brooding expression as he meandered over to an impressive, luxurious desk.

She was thanking him for more than the milkshake, but she didn’t have the courage to say so.  She hoped he could sense it.

He pulled open a handsome leather-bound volume and scanned a few pages.  “Pretty comprehensive menu, are you in the mood for anything in particular?”

Maggie felt very shy all of a sudden.  And aware that she was alone with him.  In a hotel.  She could kick herself.  What had she thought this would be?  Of course she was alone with him in a hotel.  That’s how this sort of thing worked.

With a deep breath and a firm admonishment to herself not to behave so ridiculously, she strode over to join him at the desk and tilted her head to read the menu with him.

She felt him look at her but she kept her eyes on the menu.  Of course, as long as she felt him staring at her she was unable to actually read the menu.  She gathered that there were salads and soups, and that’s about all she was able to glean, though she thought she did an admirable job of appearing to peruse the menu while he studied her.

No doubt he was trying to get used to her just as she was struggling to acclimate herself to him.  They were stuck together.  Not only for the next seven days, but for the next seven years—unless he broke the contract and the marriage dissolved early.  It would cost him a shocking, devastating amount should that happen.  She hadn’t done it for the money though.  She swallowed, thinking about her reasoning.

She’d wanted to ensure that he participated in raising the child.  That he was there, present, involved.  She wanted her child raised in as stable a home environment as she could manage.  And the only way to get him to commit to that was to threaten extreme monetary and property loss if he broke the contract.

As for the other stipulations.  She felt the hair on the back of her arms lift and her neck tingled.  She didn’t want to be made a public fool of.  She didn’t honestly expect Grey to be faithful to her, abide by vows he neither felt nor believed in, but at least now he’d likely be discreet about his philandering and trysts.  And maybe even think twice about them.

“Nothing looks good?”  He asked, and she realized he was reacting to the gloomy face she had put on at the thought of Grey with other women.  It shouldn’t bother her.  She didn’t love him.  She didn’t expect anything to happen between them any more, he was done with her, and she wasn’t so cruel that she’d deny him seeking physical and maybe even emotional release outside of their marriage of convenience.

She forced her face into a bland expression.  “Actually so much of it looks delicious, I’m having trouble deciding.”  She lied.

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at her.  She thought he could tell.  Tell that she was lying.  But he held his tongue and glanced back at the menu.  “Shall I order for both of us?”

She bit her lip.  It was the same thing he’d always ask when he took her out to eat.  He was very skillful at it.  Never once had he ordered something she didn’t thoroughly enjoy.  Something twitched and ached in her chest at the memories. 

“Thank you.”  She said and moved away from the desk before he could read any deeper into her.  He was too good at that, or maybe she was too easy to read.  Either way it left her feeling vulnerable and silly and very like a foolish little girl.  Especially because he was so unfathomable to her.

How could a man so effectively fake love and romance?  What kind of person is capable of that?  She shivered and wandered off toward the bathroom, curious about the accommodations. 

She flicked on the light and gaped.  It was grand.  All soft sandy beige and white, it was soothing and felt very like Maggie would imagine a spa might feel.  She’d never been to one, but this looked like the exotic spas she’d seen on commercials and on the home and garden channel.  The tub was enormous, most definitely built for two.  And there was a separate shower, with multiple shower heads, and this too was built for a couple.  There was room enough for an upholsterd bench, and there was an abundance of clean, fluffy white towels, and so many complimentary toiletries!

She heard his voice rumbling low and commanding and knew he must be placing their room service order.  She couldn’t make out the words, but she thought she’d rather be surprised anyhow. 

Looking in the mirror she sighed.  She looked tired, and tense, and her garment was wrinkled from the long ride.  She gazed at her figure in the red dress she’d borrowed.  While she felt bloated and uncomfortable and poured-into the dress, she was rather pleasantly surprised to see that she didn’t look as awful as she felt in it.  It certainly showed her breasts to advantage.  No wonder her father had scowled at the sight of her.  And despite feeling like her late first-trimester belly was obvious, in this dress she looked trim and slim and it certainly flattered. 

She thought about the very skinny, very pert teenage girl at the smoothie place and scowled.  Was that Grey’s type?  If that girl was over fifteen she certainly hadn’t looked it.  And she’d looked so, so, cheap and inappropriate.  Was that the sort of girl he wanted?

“Should be up in about a half-hour to forty-five.”  He said, standing in the doorway to the bathroom.  “Do you need me to run and get something from the gift shop to tide you over?”

She already felt fat.  She glowered at him.  “I’ll try not to eat the furniture before the food gets here.” She snapped.

He blinked.  “I didn’t—“  He stopped.  “All you’ve had today is a milkshake.”

She took a slow, deep breath, held it, and then let it out just as slowly.  “I’m sorry.”  It was a struggle to say it, but she forced herself to do it. 

His lips twitched into a hint of a smile.  “I could use a candy bar.”  He said decisively.  “I’m gunna run down and get some things.”

He’d hesitated in the doorway for a moment more before disappearing out into the main body of the suite.  “Be right back.” He called.  She closed her eyes and held onto the sink until she’d heard the door to the room open and click closed again.

Then, when she was sure he’d gone, she let herself sink to the stone tiled floor of that beautiful bathroom, and she burst into tears.