We made love every day, over and over—in her tree-house, in her hotel suite, in my car, and in the small town’s movie theater. Yet, the more intimate she and I became, the guiltier I felt.
One night while we were in bed, she began to cry about Sweet Seasons, telling me that all the publicity her mother had done—two segments on the local news, a week’s worth of articles in the Fayetteville Observer, and a rally that even the mayor attended, had fallen flat.
She told me she hated Autumn Wonder for hurting her mother. She said she couldn’t understand why they would blatantly steal the heritage coffee and signature pies. She promised she would never give them a dime of her money again, and that she would only frequent the family owned coffee shops (and Starbucks once a week “out of spite”) when she returned to New York.
She’d finally agreed to watch The Godfather with me for the first time—provided I sit through two more romantic comedies right after, and I knew exactly where I wanted to pause the DVD and admit that I was the CEO of Autumn Wonder. I knew exactly how I wanted to say it, how I wanted to apologize, and how I wanted to ask if there was anything I could do to make things right for her and her mother.
Selena jumped into my arms and kissed me before letting me inside her suite, “Hey Ethan.”
“Good to see you too,” I kissed her back and put her down. “Are you ready to watch the greatest movie ever?” I handed her the DVD. “The movie that is all movies?”
“No,” she rolled her eyes.
“Well, too bad. You promised. I have something for you to open after dinner.”
I set a brown box on the table and she ran her hands across it.
She wasn’t wearing anything but a towel, and she didn’t seem like she had any interest in changing into something else.
“Why do I have to open it after dinner?”
I swear she questions EVERYTHING…
“Because I said so.”
She bit her lip. “Okay. After dinner.”
I followed her over to the couch and she pressed play on her DVD player. She handed me a plate of pasta and I couldn’t help but notice that her towel had moved lower and her br**sts were showing.
“You want to move that towel back over your body or go put on some clothes so we can actually concentrate on the movie?”
“No,” she moved it down even further.
“Selena, you’re not being fair…You promised.”
“How am I not being fair? I pressed play. Isn’t the movie playing?”
“You know what I mean. Put that towel back on.”
“That towel?” she threw it over the TV.
I set down my pasta and tried not to laugh. I walked over to the TV to remove the towel and—she was standing right in front of me when I turned around.
Forget the movie…
“Do you have any idea what the word compromise means, Selena?”
“I’ve never heard of it before,” she smiled.
“Clearly,” I wrestled her down to the floor and pinned her to the carpet. “Wait,” I released her arms and sat up. “I want you to open the box first.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Now.”
She frowned and stood up, retrieving the box from the table and setting it down between us. She took her time opening it—pulling away every strand of tape, pushing down each cardboard flap.
She pulled out an envelope and read the card aloud:
Dear Selena,
The past few weeks have been the most amazing weeks of my life. If it was up to me, I would never go back to Boston and I would keep you far away from New York. Nonetheless, we both have careers to go back to, so I hope this gift will keep our time here alive when we both go back to work.
Your friend forever,
Ethan.
She ran her fingertips across the word “friend” for several seconds and smiled. She pulled a set of pink keys from the box and looked at me.
“Keys? To what?”
“Umm,” I pulled out the picture of a black suburban warehouse in New York. “I figured you probably won’t be able to come to Fayetteville every time you want to go to a private beach so…I had a team of engineers build an indoor one to the best of their ability. They did a really good job with it,” I flipped the picture over to show her the beach. “You can escape there whenever you want and the paparazzi will never know what’s inside.”
“Oh my god,” her jaw dropped and she shook her head. “I don’t know what to say. I—”
“There’s one more thing in the box…”
She flipped the box upside down and picked up the gift—a one of a kind charm-bracelet from Belazi with diamond and sapphire charms: There was an intricately designed cherry bourbon pie, a pink firework, a coffee pot with the word “friend” etched onto its handle, a yellow Uno card, and a jet.
“Happy belated birthday, Selena.”
“Thank you so much Ethan,” she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me back down to the floor. “I love it! Wait…What’s the jet represent?”
“I’m sure there’ll be a lot of flights between Boston and New York in the near future, don’t you think?”
She wiped away a tear and nodded.
“You had no intention of watching The Godfather today did you?” I pinned her to the carpet again.
“Nope, not at all.”
I pulled up to Sweet Seasons and noticed that there were large red signs in all the windows: “Final Bake Sale This Week!” “Last Season for Sweets!” “After Twenty Seven Years, Sweet Seasons is Closing!” “Two Weeks Left to Get Your Favorite Sweets!”