(Because normal isn't good enough for this man.)
I was sitting at Jacob's desk writing yesterday morning, stealing his laptop. Sunglasses perched on top of my head because I always forget to leave them by the door, pencil clenched sideways in my teeth, hair on top of my head in an updo that was half undone by then, turtleneck, snowpants, sipping a cup of coffee and singing Beautiful Day as loud as I could while I wrote, because I write with very loud music playing.
Touch me
Take me to that other place
Teach me
I know I'm not a hopeless case
Jacob walked past the den and I waved and said Hey handsome without looking up while I typed and resumed singing. He smiled and then stopped and stepped back to look at me.
You look adorable and happy, Bridge.
A temporary affliction, I'm sure it'll be fixed by tomorrow.
You're too hard on yourself.
No, I'm being prepared.
Girl Guide?
Brownie, actually. I never made it up to Guides, was too busy figure skating.
Oh, you know what we need?
Brownies? I could go for something right now.
No, a vacation.
What did you say?
Your New Year's eve, princess.
My new...It's January 9th, Jacob. We'll get a date night soon.
How about this weekend?
Sure, I can call a sitter.
Already have Bailey.
What? What do you mean?
Bailey's coming out.
Isn't that a lot of effort for a date night? I'll call PJ.
PJ can't really swing two nights.
I stopped typing and stared at him. Pencil still there, eyebrows to the moon, which made him laugh.
Take that thing out of your face, Bridge.
What are you up to?
How does two nights in Whistler sound?
Oh my fucking god! Jake! Are you taking me snowboarding?
If you want to go.
Are you kidding me? Of course I want to go!
Pack your stuff, baby.
Oh, seriously. Are we?
Only if you can stand a few days of carving up the slopes and then afternoons at the spa and evenings by the fire with me.
I can stand that and the...Oh my God! Kidless trip! How in the world do you do this stuff?
I have connections.
You're in the mob, aren't you?
I can't tell you that.
Seriously, you're in the freaking Irish mob. You pull strings no one else can even reach.
No, I just know people who know people who like to help make you happy.
Jacob, I'm happy here with West Side Story on cable and the ghetto cake.
I know you are. Which is one of the reasons I want to make our life together memorable.
You already did. Seven times over, baby.
Well then let's make it eight. And then nine after that. We'll keep going til we reach twenty-nine hundred million, okay?
You don't need to do things like this to make me happy, Jacob. I'm happy. So happy.
I know that, princess. I don't ever want you to settle for happy when you could have breathtaking, because that's what you are to me.
You just never do anything halfway, do you?
Not when it comes to you, Bridget. And I think I'll keep it that way.
You do realize if I write about this no one is ever going to believe me.
Then stop writing about it on the computer.
No way! It's too good not to share.
I should check with my guys and see if we can whack the internet connection.
Oh, see, now, that's mob slang right there.
Just take the schwag, sweetheart, and don't ask questions.
He winked at me and left the room, and I couldn't write a freaking thing for the rest of the day.
