Shopping for a CEO's Fiancée

“No, you wouldn’t have. I know that. And I’m not uncertain. I think I’m just reeling.”

“Me, too.”

She laughs. “Can we have the wedding at Consuela’s?”

I grin. “Perfect. When you come home, we’ll pick a date.”

“I can’t believe you lost a three-carat ring while trying to court me.”

“I can’t believe you made me court you.”

“It worked, didn’t it? We’re engaged.”

My office door flies open and there’s Amanda, on her cell, dragging a carry-on bag.

“Surprise!” she says in stereo, in person and on the phone.

“What’s this?”

She hangs up. “Client meeting ended fast.”

“For good or bad reasons?” I give her a peck on the cheek. She pulls me in for a long, slow, wet welcome kiss that makes me wonder how quickly Gina can clear my next meeting.

Or ten.

“I’m a fixer, right? We closed already.”

“C’mere, fiancée.”

“You c’mere, fiancé.”

The kiss. The taste of her after spending a week apart. It’s like taking that first breath when you break the surface after swimming underwater until your lungs are about to burst.

Like a male drone’s penis during sex.

Great. It’s official.

Amanda’s bad analogies are contagious.

“Why are you laughing while kissing me?”

“Because I love you.”

“And that makes you laugh?”

“Yes.”

“What are you laughing about?”

“Exploding penises.”

“Was my mom just here?”

I laugh harder. I kiss harder.

Everything gets harder.

But life just got easier.

And so did love.