Chapter Text
Everything needed to be perfect. Michael stood at the top of the cliff that overlooked the entire town, his friend Jefferson Madden behind him as he set up a round table with two chairs. He had left work early to prepare for his date with Belle, and he was more nervous than he'd ever been before. He wanted her to like it, and he had unintentionally set the bar high for himself with the date on the beach. She now expected a lot from him, and while he had the drive to give her it, he wasn't sure he could be enough for her.
The view was spectacular. The whole town was in sight, and at night it would look beautiful with all the lights. It was more private than the beach had been, and they would be entirely alone. He hoped she didn't grow frightened when he drove them out into the woods. He didn't want her to fear him, but he could understand if her past made it difficult to trust men. He has been trying hard to prove he wasn't trying to hurt or control her. She deserved nothing but happiness and security.
“Mike?” It took him a moment to realize he was being spoke to, but he turned to face him, nodding slightly, to show he was listening. “So I checked the times like you asked, and sunset is at around 7:29 tonight.”
“I would like you to have our meals here by 6:55, I'll bring Belle here by 7:00, which gives us enough time to eat, and then be able to dedicate full attention to the sunset.” And one another, he silently added. He wasn't about to get mushy and emotional with the man, even if he was his only friend. It was already pushing it to enlist him in this. The man could be so unpredictable, and really, Dove was more helpful. He'd have set it all up himself, but he had a difficult enough time going up sets of stairs, let alone carrying tables and chairs.
“Got it.” He pushed the chairs in more neatly, and Michael inwardly groaned as he took in the man's expression. He was thinking, which was almost always a bad sign. “You really like this girl, huh?” Michael sighed, walking over to take a seat, his leg stiff from standing. He really didn't want to have this conversation. It was bad enough he had spilled his heart out to Belle's best friend. Soon, the whole town would know, that is if they didn't already.
“Well, I don't imagine I would go through all this trouble for a girl I didn't really like.” Jefferson walked over and sat down with him, smirking.
“I don't blame you. She's so hot.”
“Shut the hell up. She's more than that. It takes more than a pretty face to wow me.”
“Yeah, a nice ass...”
“I said shut the hell up, unless you want to go over the edge of the cliff.” He turned to look at him sharply, his eyes taking in a smug smile. He knew Jefferson was only trying to irritate him, and he was good at it.
“Hot everything really. So out of your league.” He chuckles, his eyes glinting, and he was amazed that this man had made it to thirty without being murdered. By him.
“Stop calling her hot. She's not a temperature.”
“Hypocrite, you've called her hot!”
“Yes, but it isn't the only word I use to describe her. To acknowledge only her sexual attractiveness is an insult, a crime. She's... everything you could want in a woman. Beautiful, yes, but also intelligent, funny, calming, caring, sincere, kind. The list goes on.”
“Is she wife material?” He turned to look at the pain in the arse, tilting his head.
“Wife material?”
“You know, the kind of girl you want to marry. Not the type you screw for awhile or date a few months.”
“Oh. Well, if you need a term for it, she would certainly be considered that to me.”
“What's something you don't like about her? You gotta say it now before you get in too deep. Really think about it.” He sighed, hanging his head back. But he supposed it was a fair question, but one that was impossible to answer. There wasn't anything he didn't like. She wasn't perfect, she was damaged, emotional, and she was clumsy as hell. Belle French wasn't perfect by anyone's standards once they got to know her, but that's what made her perfect in his eyes. He loved the little flaws. The fact that she woke him up before his alarm with her too early texts, the way she snorted when she laughed too hard, the way she rambled when she spoke, and thought too fast and too much. The traces of lipstick left behind, and the fact that his suits always had long brown pieces of hair on them now. Belle and her flaws were perfect to him.
“I don't like that she's had a life that made her have such a hard time seeing herself the way I see her. But that's not her fault, she has to learn to love herself like I love h-” he froze, swallowing the word immediately. It may have been true, but he wasn't ready for it. He was still far too nervous and insecure about what the future held. “Like I love how she is. She's a wonderful girl.”
Jefferson was wearing the smuggest smile he'd ever seen, a Cheshire Cat grin, and he wanted to slam his cane into his face. “You've got it bad, Mike. I'm so happy for you.” The sincerity in his voice made Michael's temper calm. Beyond his jokes and less than serious attitude, Jefferson was his only friend besides Belle.
“You really think she'll like this? She also wanted me to wear something other than a suit.”
“Leather jacket. Wear that leather jacket you wore in Vegas.” He groaned out loud at the memories that surfaced. It had been miserable. All he had wanted to do was gamble and unwind, but Jefferson and their acquaintance Dr. Whale had wanted to chase any skirt they saw. The pair of them were drooling dogs, and they were left bitter when half the girls fawned over him. It was obvious why. He was the one with the fat wallet and solid gold cane handle. He must have looked insane, turning down tipsy twenty-one year olds left and right, but that lifestyle wasn't him. He was boring.
“I don't know... You think she'll like that?”
“Well, she wanted you to dress down. Obviously you're not gonna just wear a t-shirt and jeans. The leather jacket will make you look more sophisticated, you won't look so awkward. She'll be squirming in her seat while she looks at you. She'll jump you after the sun is down.” The idea did sound appealing. Would it be so bad for Belle to jump him? Hell no was the only suitable answer to that. This spot seemed like a stereotypical make out spot as was, it was bound to happen at some point in the night. He smiled in anticipation at the mere thought of kissing her soft, delicate, supple lips.
“I guess that's a good idea. Thank you. And I appreciate all the help with it, I couldn't have done this myself.” Jefferson smiled and shrugged, waving him off casually.
“Anything for a friend and his future wife.”
Michael gave him a dry look. “Very presumptuous. I don't know if she'd ever agree to that... Run along, Madden, I have a few finishing touches. Don't be late with the food.”
“I promise, I won't.” He nodded as he stood, bowing his head before turning and climbing into his car. Michael stared out at the town as he heard him drive off, leaning back and sighing. If only he still smoked, this would be the ideal time and place for it. He had come here many times in the past when he needed a respite or solitude. But he would rather share the view and peace with Belle than tarnish his lungs more.
He didn't stay long. He got into his car and set off for his house. There was another set of photographs waiting for him, but it seemed wrong to indulge before a special date, so he kept it in the envelope. He was beginning to feel more and more guilty about the anonymous photographs, but there was a part of him that didn't want to lose it. He was frightened that Belle would lose interest soon, or that he'd do something to anger or upset her beyond repair. He wasn't sure he could handle being totally alone, and that was his reasoning behind keeping them. Once he and Belle were on more clear terms and actually an exclusive couple, he would put the flag up. He would also tell her all about them, so she wouldn't lose trust in him should she ever find out. His priority was Belle, and his happiness. He just had a feeling that this was alright.
After taking a shower free of roaming hands, he shaved his face neatly, cursing loudly as he nicked his chin from his shaking hand. He hadn't nicked himself in years, it would be just his luck that it happened on the night of a date with the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. He sighed as he put a small bandage over it for the time being. He limped over to his closet without the aid of his cane, searching through. The lower half of his outfit was easy as he had no choice. He had one pair of jeans, dark wash and fitted boot cut. They were a bit tighter than when he last wore them as he had packed on a few pounds. They clung more in the arse and crotch, but he didn't have time to shop, so he would just have to hope his cock would stay under control.
First he tried on a fitted v-neck, and the fitted aspect was a terrible idea. It highlighted his gut nicely, so he took it off quickly. Next he put on a looser one that only made him look like a man trying far too hard to look young. A plain polo made him look like a douche, and a hooded sweatshirt (which he wasn't even sure he'd willingly purchased) made him look like a slob. He put on a plain white button down and paired it with a maroon diagonal striped tie. He tied it in a more basic knot than the usual four-in-hand, keeping the collar slightly looser. She wanted relaxed and he was willing to shed some armor for her. He tucked his shirt in neatly, looking in the mirror. He didn't look as horrible as he expected, and the one good thing about the fit of the pants was they made his bulge even more impressive. Not that she cared or didn't know what was inside the trousers.
He picked his cane up, leaning into the mirror and pulling the band aid off. The blood had stopped so he wiped it away, and luckily it wasn't noticeable. A small victory. He looked at his hair with a sigh. He had spent so long changing that he hadn't been able to blow dry it a little, resulting in a slightly more wavy look. A bit of his usual product made it as smooth and soft as usual, and he inspected it more closely. The only word he could use to describe it was floofy, and he hoped it looked just as nice. He ruffled it, looking at the grey streaks in disdain. He was getting old. But not too old to woo a woman, he hoped.
He slowly made his way down the stairs, sending Belle a text message informing her he was on his way. She texted back almost instantly, and they agreed to meet in the lobby. He was thankful he could avoid the stairs, the jeans made it even more of a challenge. He drove to the apartment building, entering and awkwardly standing against the wall. He glanced at his phone to make it less awkward, and just as he pulled his phone out, it beeped with a text.
Michael! Help. Red or black?
He had no idea what she was talking about, but if it was clothing, she couldn't possibly go wrong with either.
Both would look lovely but how about red. I'm here, whenever you're ready. No rush.
She read it but didn't reply, so he assumed she was indeed rushing. He leaned against the wall, some of the building's occupants giving him strange looks. Surely they knew why he was there. His phone beeped again, and he looked down, groaning. It was Jefferson.
Hey buddy! Getting the food there! Have a good night and use protection ; ) ; )
Fairly certain you don't put a space between them, idiot.
He muted Jefferson and slid his phone away. Just as he tucked it into his back pocket, he heard the rapid click of heels as someone rushed over to him. He looked up and smiled as he saw Belle rushing across the lobby to him. He groaned then as he saw what she was wearing. She had listened, he realized, as he took in the strappy high heels she wore. Red as the blood that couldn't decide if it should rush to his cheeks or his groin.
“Michael!” Anyone who was present was staring as they often did, looking at them in awe and shock. She continued her half run, and he stepped closer, eyes drifting down just in time to watch her heel catch on the carpet. He quickly leaned forward as she squeaked and fell, catching her. He grunted slightly, but held her up, straightening them both up.
“Hey.” He looked at her and breathed it out with a chuckle, his arms remaining in place around her. She was blushing sheepishly, and she slid her hands up his arms, leaning in and kissing him. She tasted like honey, and he tried to remember they were in a public lobby. It was very difficult to contain his passion for her. It wasn't something that could be caged.
“Hey.” She noticeably bit her lip as she giggled quietly, pulling him closer to peck his lips again. She stepped back completely, and he shifted nervously as her eyes ran along him. “Oh my god.”
“What...?”
“You look amazing! You look so handsome and sexy.” She tugged the leather jacket gently, then stroked the tie. “It looks so perfect on you.” She crashed into his chest as she hugged him, her curls bouncing, and all he could do was lean into her touch. She was so happy, and they hadn't even gone to dinner yet. He hoped he didn't ruin her mood, he was desperate to see her this happy.
“Thank you. You requested more casual.” He then took in her outfit with more attention to detail. She had on a gold blouse that was sheer at the top and fitted, and it was tucked neatly into a tight little black skirt. She had a red blazer with sleeves to the elbow on over it, and it was the perfect mix of sexy and elegant. She always looked perfect. He knew it was never his place to tell her how to dress, but if she ever requested his input, he would tell her not to change a thing. “And you look absolutely beautiful, my dear. Truly radiant.” She smiled and took his hand, and together they walked out to his car. He pulled open the door for her, helping her in before getting in on his own side.
He started the engine and drove off, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gearshift. He didn't fuss when she plugged her phone into his car and turned on her pop music. Music was one of the few things they disagreed on. They shared many other interests, and he could tolerate it if it meant being in her company. When some horrible song that seemed to be pop and rap came on, he tried not to cringe. The lyrics were obscene and about drugs and snakes, and he couldn't believe Belle enjoyed it. She suddenly started to laugh loudly.
“Oh god, listen to this next part, I only just realized.”
'This dude named Michael used to ride motorcycles,
Dick bigger than a tower I ain't talking bout' Eiffel'
“Is this a serious song? That's my name.” He groaned, lifting his hand and pressing it to his forehead in disbelief. It was horrendous, and he couldn't believe this was an actual song. She was laughing even harder and all he could do was scowl about it. How was this music.
“It's half true. Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?”
“Can't say I have, no. And I think this music is awful and unrealistic. If it was truly that large you'd be in grave danger.” Her laughter had turned silent, her face red, and she then snorted loudly, covering her face. He couldn't help but smile. She was so adorable, and she could compare him to as many crude pop songs as she wanted provided she was this happy every time. He laughed softly, and she looked sheepish, smiling shyly.
“Tell no one about that noise I just made. You'll be in huge trouble if you do.”
“Oh my, will you discipline me?” He smirked to himself at the idea. It sounded like a wonderful night in all honesty.
“Might have to.” She smirked, leaning over, her hand running along his thigh smoothly a moment. He let out a soft noise of a surprise, his grip on the wheel tightening. Luckily they were surrounded by forest. Beams of headlights came from around the corner and he recognized the car as Jefferson's, meaning everything was ready to go. He just had to get them there, but she seemed intent on making it harder. “Remember how I told you I want to take things slow?”
“Yes... And I assure you, that's fine, I-”
“What I said still stands. That's how I feel most right. But... What we did over the phone and on the beach was... Well... It was amazing. So stuff like that is okay. Just so you know. I'm just not ready for full on sex.”
“You don't have to explain anything to me. Just say what is and isn't okay and I'll never go beyond your boundaries. And if you ever change your mind, you can tell me. I'm not like that bastard you used to see. I don't think you owe me anything. The only things I require from you are honesty, trust, respect, and maybe a little patience... I'm fully aware I'm a difficult man to be around, that I'm not the most ideal man.” He couldn't keep his self-deprecating words in even as she glared, shaking her head, laying her hand over his on the wheel gently.
“You're the easiest person to be around. I've never felt more comfortable and secure. I need to meet the woman or women who made you feel like you're unworthy or hard to love, I have some very strong words for her. You are more than enough, you are worthy, and there's no one I would rather be with. And that's that.” The final word was punctuated with a firm tap on the bicep, and he smiled softly. “Also, where are we even going?”
“Into the woods.”
“The movie theater is the other way...”
“Huh?” He tilted his head slightly as he tried to unravel her meaning. He saw no correlation between woods and movies. “I mean the forest.”
“Oh god, are you going to kill me, Michael? I knew you were too good to be true!” Her tone was teasing, and he rolled his eyes.
“You've caught me. I am actually a real serial killer.” She giggled loudly and he shook his head, smiling in amusement as well. If this was her reaction to those words he would have to keep an eye on her. The girl would get herself killed.
“No one would ever believe me if I told them how funny you are.” She smiled brightly, looking around as he drove up the slope to the cliff. She truly trusted him, and he was slightly surprised. He had expected at least a bit of hesitation from her. This was different than the beach. They would be completely alone. He was touched that she was so relaxed and content even in what could have seemed dangerous. She knew he would never hurt her. He pulled up and parked a bit back, the area illuminated by lanterns. She gasped, sitting up slightly as she looked out.
“Wow... You... You did this for me...?” She turned to face him with a slightly open mouth, and he nodded, smiling at her.
“I did. I wanted to give you another special date.” He activated the emergency brake as a precaution, getting out of the car. He carefully made his way over to her side, and she was accommodating enough to feign fixing her hair so he could make it to open the door. He pulled it open, shifting his cane so he could offer her his hand. He helped her up, leading her over to the table. He lifted the covers off the meals, and beneath them was two portions of country fried chicken. She moaned in hunger and he carefully helped her into her seat, taking his across from her. The table was small enough that their knees were touching, and once they scooted in completely, she moved her legs so they were between his.
The dinner portion of their evening went surprisingly well. She loved the food and told him it was one of her favorite dishes. Conversation flowed easily and naturally, and he was happy they didn't have any awkwardness between them anymore. She was bright and intelligent, and he loved talking to her. The fact that it was so easy made it even more enjoyable. She was stimulating in many ways. As the air chilled, she grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him toward the back seat of his car. He eagerly joined her.
He shut the door and turned to face her, groaning in surprise and contentment as she launched herself into him, kissing him. One hand was in his hair and the other on his shoulder, and she kissed him deeply. She straddled his leg with both of her's, pulling back to smile at him. He smiled back, all tongue and teeth when she kissed him again, and he hoped he didn't seem like a bad kisser in her eyes. He was simply dazed by her.
Her hands were touching him in the most wonderful way, no real direction or intent behind it. At the moment. She was touching him simply to touch him, and his life had been devoid of such pleasant and simplistic details for far too long. This girl gave him everything he needed and more. And all she asked for in return was respect, love, and a bit of effort. There was nothing difficult about it, it was all natural
He groaned in half surprise half pleasure as she shifted so she was straddling him completely. Her short dress rode up, and he wished he had been wearing dress pants. The jeans were far too restricting as he began to grow more and more aroused. He was a large man and had put on weight since the pants were last touched. It wasn't a comfortable combination, but he wasn't about to complain about a lapful of Belle French. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, and the vehicle was suddenly far too hot. He couldn't help himself, his hands sliding to her dress, bunching it up. She didn't push him away, instead running her tongue along his slowly before giggling.
“What's so funny?” He breathed it out softly, his eyes running along her face, taking in the flushed cheeks. She was so beautiful, he was stunned that he was on a date with her, and even felt disbelief over the fact that he was making out in his backseat with her.
“You're just such a good kisser. I feel like you've taught me how to kiss better in a few weeks than the other three guys I've kissed in the span of six years.” It was true to an extent, though he wouldn't take all the credit. She was noticeably better than their first kiss. Of course, even when she had been clumsy and inexperienced, he wouldn't have wanted to kiss anyone but her.
“Perhaps because you weren't meant to be kissing them, and have really been meant to be kissing me.” She smiled, leaning in and kissing him deeply, her nails pressing into his cheeks gently.
“I think that's exactly it.” Soft hands ran along his cheeks gently, and he closed his eyes to enjoy her touch. When he opened them to question her sudden silence, he noticed she looked sad. “I wish we'd started seeing each other sooner. Or at least met years ago.”
“I'm sorry it took me so long to ask... It wasn't lack of want.”
“I just can't help but think how much better my life would have been had I not been alone, had I spent the last three or four years with you.”
“Mine too. Though I must say... This town would think I was an absolute creep had I been with you then. I think they already thought I was stalking you for awhile.”
“I wouldn't have cared. I know you're not like that.” She nuzzled into his neck, leaning into him completely. His arms tightened around her, and he leaned back.
“It would have been frowned upon. A thirty-five year old seeing a girl who had just turned eighteen...”
“I would have been safer and more respected with a thirty-five year old than I would have with the eighteen year old I ended up with. Age doesn't determine if you're right for someone or if you'll treat them well, as long as you're both legal to be together. Though I do understand you probably wouldn't have been interested...”
“I don't know for certain. I won't deny the fact that I've seen you around town for years and always thought you very beautiful. And you and I have been.... Friends for over a year. I would have been there for that, at least. It's just... Our age difference already concerns me, it seems even worse when one can literally say I was twice your age.” She paled slightly and pulled away, fixing her skirt.
“W-what do you mean concerns you? Why are you here if that's the case in your mind.” He swallowed hard and shook his head, his chest beginning to pump faster nervously. Why on earth had he said such an easy to misinterpret thing as the girl was telling him she wished they'd been together for years now? That was an honor.
“I don't mean it that way... I just... I'm not saying I think you're too young for me. Not at all, you've always struck me as very mature. More than most of the people my age in this town... I just worry about how long I'll be viable. How long I can make you happy for. I worry I won't be somewhat young long enough for you to get whatever you may want from a partner.” Her expression softened, and as climbed back close to him, holding his face gently.
“You can give me what I want from a partner as long as you're Michael Gold.” His mouth hung open, and his heart swelled. He had never been enough for someone before. He leaned in and kissed her, trying to push all the feelings he had for her into a physical expression. She moaned slightly and wrapped her arms around him, so clearly he had done an alright job of it. He watched her sit forward, pulling her heels off, and she glanced out the window into the darkness, biting her lip and reaching forward to lock it again. “I've never heard of this spot. So that means we're likely good to be alone, right?”
“Ah... I imagine so. I usually come here by myself when I need to think. I've never once encountered anyone else here.”
“I like it... Being alone this way, I mean. I trust you.” She leaned up to kiss him again, pulling him so he was slightly on top of her. He ignored the stabbing ache in his bad leg from the position it was twisted in. Kisses like this were well worth a little pain. He was far too old to be making out in the back of a car, but any moment with this girl was something he'd cherish forever. She encouraged more of his weight down, so he laid his body along her own, trying to keep his legs as straight as he could. It was very uncomfortable, and his pants were making it worse.
“I'm never letting you convince me to wear jeans again.” He murmured it against her lips, and she giggled, reaching between them.
“Then you need to take them off.” She slowly slid the zipper down, pulling them down a bit, and he sighed in slight relief as his constrained erection was able to breathe. “Does that hurt?”
“Does what hurt, sweetheart?”
“You know... Being hard in tight pants.” She blushed slightly, biting her lip as she finished her sentence. “Or in general.”
“Oh... No, it doesn't really hurt, per say. It's simply uncomfortable in the jeans as there's no space and they're confining as is. And in general it doesn't hurt. It's just a tension, more of a distraction than anything.” It was an awkward time for an anatomy lesson, but he wasn't going to deny her. Her hand wrapped around him and he moaned out.
“My ex... He... He always said it was really painful. He said it was the worst type of pain.”
“He's full of shit.” He rolled his eyes, shifting slightly, his hands on either side of her. “That's quite the common lie. Men often tell women that in hopes it'll encourage them to do something they aren't comfortable or ready for.”
“Thank you for being so honest with me about everything. I feel so naive, it's just, everything I know about guys is a lie because of him. And it sucks, because I don't want you to think I'm an idiot or little girl. It's just... Being told these things every day messed with me. I knew it was all lies but... I...”
“It gets to you. It breaks down your self-esteem and confidence, even in things you're an expert on. It makes you feel smaller than you are. It's not something that's your fault or that I would think you stupid over. I never told you, and I really didn't want to when you had your hands around my penis, but I've been there. Not to the extent you have, of course, but just verbally. My first wife was very vocal in her hatred and disgust with me at a point.” He sighed softly, and she let go of his penis to hug him tightly. He leaned his face into her neck, sighing softly.
“Thank you for telling me. I know this was probably hard.” She had no idea. He ran a hand through her hair, breathing in her scent a moment. Roses and honey. It was heavenly.
“Yeah... A lot of things regarding my past have been hard.” She pulled back slightly, cupping his cheeks in her hands and looking at him in concern.
“Tell me everything.”
“Everything?” He let out a soft chuckle, and she narrowed her eyes, pressing her hands in more firmly. “Belle, I'm forty, if I even attempt to tell you everything that's been awful in life, we'll be here for a week.” She groaned in disappointment when she tucked his member back into his pants, but it faded as she wrapped her arms around him and held him close.
“Let's do it this way. Every time we spend time together, we'll each make sure to share one special thing. Something very happy, or very sad.”
“Alright... You first then.” He brushed hair behind her ear, and she swallowed hard, nodding.
“My mother... I lost her a few years ago. When I was about fifteen. That's when my father and I moved to America. He wanted to get away from all the memories Australia held.” She sniffles slightly, leaning against him more closely, and his heart ached for her. He pulled her in tight, his arms coming around her securely.
“I'm so sorry Belle...”
“She's the reason I love books so much... We read together almost everyday. And my father always said I looked a lot like her. That always made me feel... special. Because I thought she was so beautiful.” He listened to her closely, his arousal steadily fading away. It wasn't the time. It was the time to get to know her better, which was something he wanted more. She took her phone out from the small purse resting on the front seat, ignoring a few text messages to go right to her photos section. She scooted up more, and she began to show him dozens of photos of her and her mother together. She smiled at some and teared up at others.
“You were adorable. And I do love the puppy shirt.” She giggled, blushing brightly, quickly swiping aside to hide the photo of her with a French bulldog sweater and a face still chubby with youthful baby fat.
“You better show me pictures from when you were younger for these.”
“I don't really have many. I have a few from school, though not on my phone. I think I have one from my wedding somewhere in here.” It was a struggle to remove his phone from the pocket of his tight pants, but he eventually succeeded. Sure enough, he did, though it wasn't of his wife, it was of him and his best man. Jefferson still looked like a boy in the photograph, but it was far less embarrassing than how he looked. She gasped and covered her mouth, turning and running her entire hand through his hair.
“Michael! Your hair! That's almost a buzz cut!” She looked horrified, and he was too old to blush but that didn't stop his traitorous body from reacting. “Oh my god.”
“I know, I know, I hadn't yet figured out my face really needs long hair to frame it right, I was young and naive.”
“I can't even believe this. Fetus Michael was so cute! But you got so... so sexy.” She bit her lip as she looked him over, running her hand along his jaw, the other running through his hair. “You've aged like wine. I'm lucky.”
“Oh dear, I think I'm the lucky one.”
“You didn't tell me something about your past. Or was the haircut the awful thing?” He laughed softly, leaning back and thinking. He didn't want to start with perhaps the most tragic and heartbreaking. He wasn't ready to share that with her. He wasn't sure he could tell the story without sobbing, and there had to have been a rule about when it was acceptable to cry in front of your love interest.
“Well, it seemed awful at the time, and I guess it shaped who I was as a person from then on. I was born in Glasgow, Scotland, and my mother died giving birth to me. I never knew her. But I barely knew my father. He was distant, irresponsible, and I could always tell he didn't want me. We came to America when I was around seven. We lived in Brooklyn, New York. I couldn't read nor could I write. By the time I was eight, he was gone. Two women took me in, and they raised me. They taught me those things, as well as things I suppose most would define as traditionally feminine. I learned how to sew, cook, clean, knit. They also taught me that I was at a disadvantage already. So I worked my ass off in school. I studied five times harder than anyone else, and I even played... Soccer. It's big back in Scotland, so I felt so lucky to be able to play. I managed to have the best grades in my class, while also excelling at it. And the two combined is the only reason I'm able to be where I am.” She was listening intently, watching him curiously. No one had ever truly devoted so much attention to him, and she made him feel special.
“Why is that?”
“Without the two I don't think I would have been able to go to college. I had gotten a full scholarship to NYU. I was dirt poor, I wouldn't have been able to afford any higher education without the scholarships. And without that, I wouldn't have gone to law school.”
“You sound like you've worked so hard your entire life. Did you ever take some time to just relax? When's the last time you had a vacation?”
“A vacation? The last time I went more than a long weekend without working was when I was in the hospital for my leg.” He wished he hadn't mentioned it, because he already knew her next question.
“How did y-”
“I injured it playing soccer. I was twenty-three and still in law school, but I still played. It never really healed correctly because I was stubborn... I was so young, I was embarrassed to use a cane or crutches. So I walked on it even after I was told I needed an aid, and that made it worse. That was when my wife, we'd been married three months, really began to resent me. She had married me because of the promise I showed as a lawyer, not to be... as she put it... Tied to a cripple forever.” He swallowed hard, and she gasped, glaring slightly.
“Sounds like you're better off. She sounds like a monster. Anyone who would think any less of you for it doesn't deserve to be around you.”
“To be fair, I can't blame her not being content about it. It restricts what I can do by a lot. You'll see....”
“Michael, you're amazing. Whether or not you can run or rock climb isn't important at all. Anyone who deserves you wouldn't care. I'm sorry if you feel like it takes away your quality of life, but honestly, I forget about it. Just because it doesn't change my opinion of you. I've never once thought of you as a cripple. You're Michael, and you have a cane. That doesn't change who you are or how happy you make me.”
“You know... My life would have been a lot better had you been my college girlfriend all those years ago...”
“I was thinking the same thing. I spent my college years afraid of Gary, to the point I eventually said yes to going out. If I had been with someone as sweet and loving as you, I would have actually been happy. College could have been at least a little fun.”
“What did you go for?”
“Don't laugh... It's not anything fancy or as financially impressive as a lawyer..."
“Belle. I would never laugh at anything you do.”
“I have a degree in library science...”
“And you're ashamed about that? You love reading, being around books is what brings you happiness. I think that's wonderful. You chose something you were passionate about. That's what's most important, not how much money you make.”
“That's easy for the richest man I've ever met to say...”
“Belle...”
“I'm sorry, I don't mean that in a mean way. I know you worked your ass off to get where you are and that you actually deserve it. And for the record I don't care about money at all. It's just... Everyone always says it was a bad choice. That I should have picked something higher paying or more in demand.”
“You're only twenty-two. I didn't have it together then. I still don't, honestly. I'm not sure anyone ever has their life totally together. I learned long ago you can't plan for everything. Besides, you picked something you love and enjoy. That's what's important. I know it's meaningless for the rich guy to say, but money isn't everything. It can't make someone love you, and while it can buy things, you can't buy what you really want. Not if you want it the right way.”
“How haven't you remarried...? I don't get it... You're perfect. You're sweet, caring, funny, handsome... I can't believe some lucky girl hasn't beaten me to you.” He couldn't help but laugh, and she looked at him in confusion, tilting her head.
“I'm not exactly a catch, Belle. I have a lot of baggage.”
“And I don't?”
“None of that is your fault, sweetheart. None of it.”
“Sometimes, we meet people who are good for us. And we meet some who are bad for us. You just happened to be unlucky in that. And I was too.” How they had gone from half a handjob to heartfelt conversation was beyond his understanding. He realized then that perhaps he had, in the past, been too bland sexually. It had been a routine activity during most of his marriage, and never taken with such a fun and passion says approach. He supposed he was just more comfortable with Belle than he had been with his wife. It didn't have to be something planned and thought out. Belle was someone he could share everything with.
“But that's in the past now. Now I consider myself very lucky.”
“I do too.” She leaned into his neck, and his arms tightened. Her body was small and warm, a compact ball of heat he could wrap his arms around, and she fit into him perfectly. She laid her hand over his stomach, and while he was self-conscious about the roundness quitting smoking had given it, she didn't seem bothered by anything. He wondered if the day would ever come where she would be. Where she'd be disgusted by his leg or body, or regret ever giving him so many of her firsts in so short a time. As he lay on the backseat of the car, his legs bend and back aching, he knew he wouldn't mind if someday she left him. He was Michael Gold, and it was just how his life worked. She was teaching him happiness, which was enough and he'd greedily drink in all of it, and he'd devote himself to making her feel it too. And hopefully when she inevitably left she was gentle with him, gentler than his first wife and the lover after that.
But maybe, just maybe, his luck would extend, and this one would be forever. He could and did dream, even on the way home after dropping her off at at quarter to 1:00 in the morning. He hadn't stayed out so late even in college, and judging by the way she had taken her heels off and sank into the front seat, she hadn't either. He'd been a gentleman and walked her up to her apartment despite the still broken elevator and his throbbing leg. It was late, and he hadn't wanted to risk anyone waiting for her in the hall, or just her tripping and hurting herself. She kissed him sleepily but sweetly against her front door, and he was certain his lips were swollen from all the heavenly kisses she bestowed upon him. The night had been wonderful, and just as he whispered goodbye, she had asked him for another date. He could have wept as he said yes, and she decided she would choose their venue, which was a weight off his shoulders. Even without her in his arms, he fell asleep easily with a smile on his face.