Saturday, September 1
(Franco)
Chester is old and charming as promised. It looks like something out of a children's storybook.
The hotel I booked online is impressive. Our room has a balcony that overlooks the river. It's like a postcard. After we check in and drop our bags in the room, we venture out.
The sun is shining brightly today, and there isn't a cloud in the sky. That's rare for England and I quickly learn that the English don't take it for granted. Everyone we encounter comments on it. "Gorgeous day, isn't it?" and "Weather's crackin' today." and "Sun's beaut." I like it that a sunny day is cause for such obvious appreciation here. There's something insanely humanizing about appreciating the little things, so much untainted happiness to be found there. The world would be a better place if more people went apeshit over things like sunshine.
The entire day was taken at a lazy pace, something we both needed. Slowing down gives you time to recharge, time for reflection, time to evaluate. We walked the town and stopped in several shops, including a hat shop. I finally got to see a fascinator in its natural habitat. Gem bought one and looks straight up regal in it, like some kind of royalty. I bought a wool hat like Cillian Murphy wears in the TV show "Peaky Blinders," not because I look good in it, but because I'm obsessed with the show and feel like a badass wearing it. Score.
After we shopped, we walked to an old church with a falconry. The falconry was a first for me. They keep and care for about two dozen hawks, falcons, and owls. I was like a little kid when I got to wear a thick, protective leather glove and hold a hawk on my forearm. I felt like a beast master. And Gemma was fucking giddy when they let her do the same with a snowy white owl. I took photos of her posing with it. She squealed that she felt like Harry Potter. The joy on her face and in her big toothy smile was so innocent, so pure. That's one of my favorite things about Gemma, she doesn't hide from her emotions. Good or bad, she lives in them, confronts them, accepts them, and feels them bone deep. It's one of the reasons her charisma is like the polestar. It's subtle, but undeniable in its force. She's a genuinely relatable and likable woman, what you see is what you get, and people dig it. I'm batshit for it.
After the falconry, we pass a tattoo parlor, and I make the spur of the moment decision to get my nose pierced because I've been contemplating it for years. Gem, despite looking so pale I fear she may pass out at the sight of the needle, got her tragus pierced.
After we both put an extra hole in our heads, the sun is low in the sky, and we decide it's time for dinner.
"What are you hungry for?" I ask as we walk hand in hand down the sidewalk.
"Let's find a pub. After surviving the needle trauma, I could do with a pint or two and a burger and chips."
I can't stop smiling at her. "Perfect. I'm getting french fries, though, weirdo."
She elbows me in the side for the jab and then pulls me in through the door under a sign that reads The Pied Bull.
I smell fried food and ale, consider me home.
We're well into our first pint when Gem decides to go serious with the conversation. "I've been thinking about you a lot this week, Franco."
"Hard not to, I've invaded your life and home like a bull in a china shop," I tease.
She smiles that smile that's driven by happiness. "I quite like that part. Waking up next to you every morning is my favorite part of the day."
I raise my glass. "Cheers to waking up to your beautiful face."
She taps her glass to mine. "Cheers to waking up to you and all six foot plus inches of your glory."
I wink. We haven't had sex since I've been here. I think we both know there needs to be a natural progression to starting over. But I can't deny that her flirting has me twitching down below.
"You need to be in San Diego. Your work is there. Your family is there. Your friends are there. Your life is there."
I'm shaking my head to let her know she can stop the list. "Parts of my life are there. The most important part is sitting across the table from me."
"I don't want you to have to choose between me and everything else."
"I'll make it work. As Gus reminded me, we live in a world of technological sorcery and air flight that makes distance suck less." She's not going to push me away.
"I think I have a solution that would be easier."
"I'm all ears."
"I've been talking to my contacts from the L.A. project this week, doing a bit of networking. They put me in contact with a few architectural firms in the San Diego area." I can't hold back the smile that's spreading across my face. "I researched them all, and two felt like they would be a good fit, they've amazing reputations and are doing really innovative projects that would challenge me. The first flat-out turned down my interest, they're small and have no openings. But the other was quite keen on the idea of bringing me on. I'd have to start over at the bottom again—"
I stop her, not to argue against it, but to play devil's advocate because I don't want her doing something for me that goes against her dreams. "You've worked so hard to get where you are. You'll be a partner soon, this move would set you back years."
"Franco, I've learned something this year. I love my career, and it's something I want to do for the rest of my life, but I can do it anywhere. My mind and creativity comes with me wherever I go." She looks pointedly at me. "My heart, on the other hand, goes wherever you go. I don't fancy being separated from it or you. They've offered me a position starting in three months. I'd start on a year-long work permit while they sort out my green card." She's staring at me like she's just asked me a question.
I suppose, in essence she has, but all I want to do is stand up on the table and start yelling about how much I love this woman. Instead, I ask, "What did you tell them?" and hold my breath.
"I told them I needed the weekend to think it over. What do you think?" she asks, suddenly nervous.
"Is this really what you want?" I have to ask because the selfish side of me wants to shout, Hell yes! Let's go home and start packing. And that would be inconsiderate because she's ready to sacrifice everything in her life for me. That's huge.
She nods and she's wearing her determined face. "Absolutely, naughty American boy."
One more attempt at an alternative before I start celebrating. "You know I'd move here for you? If you wanted to stay, I'd make it work."
"No." The way she says it leaves no doubt in my mind that she's thought this through.
I unleash my smile full force, throw my hands up over my head, and try to moderate my voice to acceptable levels. It's hard given the ale and my excitement. "Fuck yeah, Gem's going to be a Californian."
She's beaming at me. "I'm so relieved, Franco. I feel like you just lifted the weight of the world off my shoulders. And I feel rather pushy, but like I said, I love waking up next to you every morning. And your bed is quite comfy—"
I stop her, because she's trying to ask if she can move in with me. "Mi casa es tu casa, Gem. I like my house better when you're in it."
She smiles. "Thank you."
Eating is smattered with questions about her dad, family, and friends. I want to make sure she's okay being away from them. I know she lived in the states for a year already and knows what she's in for, but I need to ask. We also discuss her belongings and her car. She'll sell her car and bring very little with her, mainly just clothes and a few personal items like family photos.
The burger and fries are probably the best I've ever eaten. I don't know if it's my current mood and all the ale in my system influencing the opinion, but my belly is currently blissed out.
Gemma finishes her second pint as I start my fourth. The ale's strong, her eyelids are beginning to droop adorably. My senses, are likewise, getting fuzzy.
We settle into easy conversation, all talk of the move set aside for now, we're just two friends talking. And laughing, because that's our specialty. Damn, I've missed this so much. Watching Gemma swipe mascara streaked happy tears from under her eyes, paired with her big smile and giggles, is oddly one of the most satisfying things I've ever seen or heard. Every time this happens between us I feel like it draws us closer. Laughter is bonding and healing like nothing else.
The walk back to the hotel is long. I give her a piggy back ride for several blocks until she whispers in my ear, "Franco, can you stop please and put me down? There's something I need to do."
I squat and release her legs so she can slide down and I turn around when her feet hit the ground.
She wastes no time in taking my face between her hands and pulling my mouth down to hers.
Despite the grip she has on my cheeks, the kiss that lands on my lips is soft. So soft.
Followed by another.
And another.
It takes a few seconds for me to remember that, though I really like the things her mouth is doing to me, there's more of her to be touched. More of her that needs to be touched. My arms wrap around her, and my hands find her back. One slides up under her hair until it meets the skin at the nape of her neck. The other goes south. Way south.
The kisses deepen. In pressure at first, but it's not long before we're invading each other's mouths. Desperate to connect.
She pulls back and smiles at me and everything inside me lights up. It's one of those moments in life that you realize exactly, without a doubt, what happiness feels like.
Slowly our smiles fade as they're traded out for desire. Which still makes me incredibly happy, but it's hard to grin when flat out need is permeating every cell of my body. Fuck, this woman can push my buttons. One hand still at her neck, the other is, quite aggressively, clutching her ass. A fact I'm fully aware of on a physical level, and choosing to ignore on an I'm-in-public-and-people-are-watching level.
Her words stop me mid-grope. "I'll race you back to the hotel room. Whoever's naked first wins."
I'm running, her hand in mine, praying that I'm going the right direction.
The lobby is empty when we enter, and we cross it doing a weird speed walking thing because we're both trying to act adult and avoid the all-out horny sprint to the elevator. But after I push the call button, I realize we're wasting precious seconds that my mouth could be on hers and I rectify the lapse in judgment.
She whispers, "I've missed this," in between soft kisses.
The ding of the doors opening signals the end of round one, and we dart inside for round two.
When the elevator dumps us out on three, we manage to navigate our way down the hall. It's a team effort, like a three-legged race, except we're two bodies joined as one from our mouths down to our toes. We don't break, and it's slow going what with all the crashing into walls and shuffling. Periodically, I open an eye to check room numbers and when the correct one pops into view, I back Gem up against the door to open it. Together we stumble in but the abrupt entrance, and the jostling that results, separates us.
She's pulling in air, encouraging her lungs to keep up with the demand being put on them. And me? I'm stripping my t-shirt over my head and toeing my Vans off. When I unbutton my jeans, the lack of movement in front of me pulls my focus to her. She's still fully clothed. Her eyes are on me, loving and lusty.
"I thought this was a race. Pick up the pace, slacker. I'm winning."
She kicks off her leopard print flats—they sail across the room in flight. It's reckless and sexy. She watches as I unzip my jeans and drop them and my underwear at the same time and step out of them both. The smile on her face is wicked, her eyes glued to my manhood prepared and ready to rock the hell out of us. "Bloody hell, I win either way." Her eyes rise slowly to meet mine as she shimmies out of her jeans and panties.
I help her with the buttons on her shirt.
Then I help her with the clasp on her bra.
And then I help myself...to her.
The race is over.
We come together in slow motion. Two lovers getting reacquainted with the curiosity and attention of strangers meeting for the first time.
And the second time.
And the third time.
I tell her I love her.
And then I tell her again.
And again.
Until I lose count.
She tells me she loves me.
Over and over.
Until I lose count.
Love in all its incantations, promises made with flesh and bone and word and intent.
That was our night.
That is our future.
I fucking love this woman.