Up for Love in London by Willow. Bonaire Page A

touch up my manicure and apply my
makeup. I tuck my cell phone, key card and a few pounds into my
pocket, in case I want to buy a snack. It’s 4:45 and dusk is
already settling in. In the lobby, a few crews from other bases
have gathered around the bar. I’m tempted to stop and chat but I
know I’ll be sidetracked so I sneak out through the hotel’s side
door.
    I pull my hood
up and quickly hike the two blocks to the High Street for a granola
bar and can of Red Bull – the flight attendant’s breakfast, as
Richard likes to say.
    The streets are
almost bare. It’s too late for last-minute shopping as most stores
are already closed. But the Christmas lights remain on, adding a
faintly melancholy feeling. I take a deep, cleansing breath and the
air feels good in my lungs.
    The Greek
restaurant isn’t open yet, but the smell of garlic and grilled meat
wafts outside. Inside, a rainbow of Christmas lights drape across
the ceiling and around the windows. The tables are covered with
checkered blue and white linens and a few are pushed together for
the crews. Normally, I’d be happy to join them but tonight I have
other plans.
    I slip into the
hotel again and walk up the first flight of stairs, to avoid
bumping into anyone, and take the elevator to my suite.
    After draping my coat over a dining room chair, I flick on the
fireplace, as easy as using the remote TV changer and beam. I could easily live like this. I strip and change into my new red dress. It’s so
perfectly fitted, I don’t want to ruin the line with underwear. To
complete the look, I step into the shoes, apply my lipstick and
wait.
    ~
    The park is now
hidden by the blackness of night. In the distance, lights flicker
on in splendid red brick homes. It’s 6:10 and my stomach is really
grumbling. I check my cell phone – again, and pick up the hotel
phone – again, to see if it’s working They both are.
    Where is
Charles? He wouldn’t go to all this trouble just to stand me up. I
know he’s only ten minutes late but as my insecurities kick in, I
need to relax.
    I inhale deeply
a few times, and then open the fridge door. The Chablis looks
inviting, so I uncork it and pour myself a large glass. The aroma
is exquisite, all grass and pale fruit, and the liquid slips down
my throat like silk.
    I’ve just
poured my second glass, shoes kicked off when I hear a rap at the
door.
    “Darling, it’s
me, Charles.”
    At last!
“Hello, I’ll be right there.” I squeeze into my shoes and am about
to apply fresh lipstick when the door opens. I should have assumed
he’d have his own key.
    “I’m so sorry
I’m late,” and he kisses me gently on my cheek, before taking my
hand and standing back to look at me.
    “Absolutely
gorgeous as ever. And you make the dress look stunningly beautiful
as I knew you would.”
    “Thank you,” I
reply modestly and immediately forget to be angry.
    He walks to the
closet, shrugs off his coat and jacket and hangs them up. I can see
he’s been here before, though I suppose that makes sense – it is
his hotel, after all. I was expecting more of a romantic greeting,
in light of our last encounter. He seems tense, or maybe he’s just
tired. Perhaps he’s had a busy week.
    He peels off
his tie and tosses it on the couch then picks up the wine bottle.
“Chablis, perfect. Mind if I join you?” He pours himself a large
glass.
    I twirl my
glass before answering, “Certainly. I’m a bit hungry though – silly
me, I haven’t eaten yet.”
    “Well, why
should you? I did promise you dinner tonight. Cheers, darling.” We
clink glasses and finally share a long, thrilling kiss. “Now let me
call room service.”
    “Room service!”
I blink back my amazement, stand and walk to the windows, still
holding my drink. Charles follows me, and placing both hands on my
shoulders, nuzzles into my neck. “You smell deliciously yummy.”
    I wonder if
it’s too early in the relationship to pout. His kisses make me
tingle and the scent of his