The Training

“You okay?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Just thought I’d forgotten to pack a little something, something.”

I tilted my head. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Forget to pack a little something, something?”

“No. The something, something is perfectly safe.”

I grabbed the handle to my bag. “Are we ready?”

He glanced at his watch. “Almost.” He held up a finger. “Just need . . .”

Someone knocked at the door.

“That,” he finished.

That?

“The bellboy to take our bags,” he said.

Of course. Why did I ever think Nathaniel would have me drag an overnight bag while dressed to the nines?

He opened the door, handed the waiting gentleman our bags, and held out his arm to me. “Ready?”

We walked through endless hallways and corridors on our way outside. I knew we turned a few heads as we passed. From the corner of my eye, I even saw one lady take a picture of us with her cell phone. I chuckled before remembering my name had been in People. Matter of fact, my picture had been as well, thanks to being Felicia’s maid of honor.

Still, that hardly warranted a hastily snapped picture.

I recalled Googling Nathaniel’s name after meeting him in his office for the first time and how I’d found the picture with Melanie at his side. I wondered if that image was still the first to pop up, or if it had been replaced by one with me. I made a mental note to check on my laptop once we made it back to the room.

As we wove our way through the lobby, something interesting happened.

I walked straighter, my shoulders back and my head up. I realized on that walk that I was not merely Nathaniel’s date, his submissive, or even his live-in girlfriend.

I was Nathaniel’s equal.

In everything.

In the bedroom, out of the bedroom. In the playroom, out of the playroom. In the business world, out of the business world.

He was no better or worse than me, and I was no better or worse than him.

I was so caught up in that realization, we made it to the end of a dock before I comprehended where we were.

I looked in front of us.

“You’re taking me on a boat?” I asked.

He leaned down and whispered to me, “Technically, it’s a yacht, but yes, I am.”

It was long and sleek, and looked like it should be gracing the cover of a boating magazine instead of being docked in south central Florida. Not that I was complaining about it being docked in south central Florida.

“I’ve never been on a boat before,” I said, then hastily added, “Or a yacht.”

“You haven’t?”

“No,” I said. “I never had much interest in fishing.”

“Do you not want to sail?”

“Oh, no. I’ve always wanted to be on a boat, just not a fishing one.”

“Yacht,” he said, nodding toward the uniformed man approaching us. “He might take offense if you keep calling his baby a boat.”

“Yacht,” I said. “Always wanted to sail on one of those, too.”

The captain welcomed us aboard and then left us alone to explore. There was a bedroom, a sitting room, and a well-appointed bathroom. I noted our bags had been stowed away in the bedroom closet.

Dusk was falling when we stepped back out on deck. I looked around. The yacht had pulled away from the dock and resort and was making its way to the middle of the lake.

I watched the water for a few minutes, enjoying the soft breeze and the hum of the yacht’s motor. Once we’d pulled away from the majority of the resort water traffic, we stopped.

“Dinner’s ready,” Nathaniel whispered, coming up behind me and taking my hand.

I nodded and turned. Someone had been busy. A candlelit table had been set up on deck with crisp white linens and delicate china.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

He smiled. “I suppose beauty’s relative. Come with me,” he said. “I ordered your favorites.”

He pulled a chair out for me and, once he took his own seat, poured us both some red wine. I took the glass he offered and looked up as I sipped. A thousand sparkling stars were visible, joining in to perfect the scene further.

A waiter appeared and set a bowl of soup in front of each of us.

“You know,” I said, after I enjoyed a few spoonfuls of the delectable soup. “One of these days, I’m going to surprise you.”

“You are?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “First of all, I’ll blindfold you.”

“I like the sound of this.”

I took another sip of soup. Butternut squash. The taste was a delicious combination of oaky sweetness. “Then I’ll force you into the car and drive.”

“Where will you take me?”

“Somewhere completely unexpected.” His expression practically begged me to continue, so I did. “The grocery store.”

He set his spoon down. “The grocery store?”

“Yes,” I said. “And I’ll drag you up and down aisles and show you how to properly choose your milk and bread.”

“You’re going to surprise me with a trip to the grocery store?”

I nodded. “Yes. Because I could never come up with anything as wonderful as all this.” I waved my hand. “This is lovely. Thank you.”

“You’re thanking me, and we haven’t even made it to our entrees yet.”

“I don’t need the entrees,” I said. “Just being here with you. The thought, the planning you put in to all this. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Abby,” he said. “I’ve lived the majority of my adult life alone. I thoroughly enjoyed planning this.” His eyes still held the glow of excitement they had hours ago. “Besides. You, in the moonlight, with candles lighting your face. That gown.” He shook his head. “It’s all the thanks I need.”

He hadn’t exaggerated when he said he’d ordered my favorites. The soup was followed by braised lamb with roasted asparagus. A plate of cheeses came next.

“That was wonderful,” I said, finally putting my napkin beside my empty plate. “I don’t think I can eat another bite.”

Nathaniel smiled at the waiter, who had appeared to remove our plates. “Nothing else for right now.”

I wondered what else he had planned.

“Thank you, sir,” the waiter said and left, hands full of empty plates.

Soft music had somehow been piped on deck and had played while we ate. Moments after the waiter left, the music changed and the familiar strains of a piano started to play.

Nathaniel stood, walked to my side, and held out a hand. “Dance with me?”

I took his hand and stood. “Always.”

He drew me close and as we danced, I felt the warmth of his hand along my shoulders. I thought back, remembering, and sighed.

“Happy sigh?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Just remembering.”

“Remembering what?”