Great Minds Think Alike
…
Reclining back against the trunk of the willow, which is surprisingly more comfortable than she would have thought it might be, Grace happily allows herself to become peacefully lost in the pages of a novel that's been near the top of her list for months but that she just hasn't quite managed to get to until now. It's hot out, and as she reads she unconsciously flexes her bare toes, enjoying the welcome relief from the oppressive heat that the droopy, leafy tree offers.
There's a wonderful, quiet intimacy to sitting hidden from view along the edge of the winding track of a large park, with the distant sound of children playing, people meandering along, and the odd cyclist or two pedalling past. Not ten feet in front of her the river flows by on its long, winding journey, a slight breeze stirring the thin, hanging branches of the willow where they reach down towards the cool, glassy surface. If she chooses to look up through the leaves there is a beautifully picturesque view of the water and the opposite bank, the old fashioned market town sprawled along its edge, and a bit further down there's the run of thick grass leading to a traditional old pub she's rather hoping will be the place she and her companion decide to dine at later. Much later.
For now the remnants of a picnic are still resting on one side of the blanket, and sprawled out on the other side is her best friend and lover, the man who is idly lazing on his back, his breathing slow and steady as he dozes in the afternoon's impressive warmth.
On Grace reads, entranced by the words that run from page to page, keeping her fully occupied. Even the big hand that eventually reaches out and glides aimlessly along her bare lower leg, that pushes the hem of her light summer dress aside to play with her knee, tracing the cluster of freckles there, doesn't really disturb her.
It's not until the prickling feeling of being watched builds and builds that she is finally tugged out of her fantasy universe, lowering the book to her lap and gazing back at him.
Boyd is watching her with utterly absorbed focus, the look in his eyes gentle but unreadable.
"What?" she asks quietly, smiling softly at him.
"You look good," he declares, the words, to her, coming from seemingly nowhere.
Grace stares at him, not sure what to say, caught completely off guard. Oh, he's often wont to tell her he likes what he sees, but somehow it's never so out of the blue. So… unattached to a particular moment.
Boyd doesn't stop his lazy caress of her leg, even as he lounges on one side, his skin adorned with a light summer tan where the short sleeves of his shirt and the legs of his shorts end.
"What do you mean?" she finally dares to ask.
The smile she's treated to just then melts her heart. Already feeling very mellow with the tranquil nature of the day and the way they are so easily lazing about together, she finds a real swell of love and affection building in her chest.
"You look happy. Relaxed. Healthy. It's wonderful," he pauses, considers her. Continues with, "and… sexy."
When she searches his face Grace finds nothing but honesty there. He's quiet, serious. He means it.
"Sexy…" she echoes, still unsure.
The grin he gives her then says everything; it's so full of mischief, so very him. "Oh yes." His words are accompanied by a nod, the grin countered by sincerity. "Most definitely."
It takes no effort at all to read in his expression the direction his thoughts have turned in. To know what he's really seeing at he gazes at her. He's really so very wonderful, she thinks as laughter bubbles its way up through her chest and breaks its way past her lips. And so predictable.
"If we weren't in a public place right now…" Boyd's eyes are smouldering, just a little. And if his words were not accurate… Still, the temptation is very real as his fingers glide further up her thigh beneath the soft fabric of her dress.
Grace pokes him in the arm with her big toe. "Tease."
Strong hands capture her foot, begin to massage even as he continues to gaze up at her. "Maybe." It's a blithe admission. "But you like it really."
"Oh I do, do I?"
Boyd nods with complete, easy confidence. "You do."
There's nothing she can really say to that, so Grace opts to shake her head in amusement and lean more comfortably back against the tree as the moment fades and he relaxes.
"Later, Peter," she murmurs, the two words all that needs to pass between them. He knows exactly what she means, doesn't have to question her, probe for more information. It's always been like that between them. Perfect synchronicity. Only when that harmony is disrupted do they run into trouble, and these days they work hard to maintain what they have. To let the antagonism die away whenever it raises its ugly head.
Suppressing a yawn, Grace tries to go back to her reading as he settles down once more, head resting against her leg, one arm looped over his body so he can continue to play with the freckles on her knee, though quite how she's not sure, given his eyes are closed and his breathing is evening out.
Despite her best intentions, though, and the day's relaxing nature, it's impossible to concentrate for long, his words reappearing in her mind and playing over each time she schools herself into focussing on the lines on the page. It's easier to give up, to put the book aside and look down at him, to study him.
As is so often the case when it's just the two of them, he's like a great sleepy lion. Resting peacefully, he's incredibly handsome, although, as she thinks it, Grace smiles wryly to herself, knowing her assessment is heavily biased by being hopelessly, deeply in love with him. Idly, she wonders how many times she's thought such things about him, how many more she'll continue to do so.
She adores him.
It really is that simple.
"Peter," she murmurs, wondering if he will hear her. Then, slightly louder, "Peter?"
He sighs sleepily, but briefly tightens his grip on her knee. "Mm?"
Grace reaches down, rests her palm against the side of his face. Enjoys the gentle prickliness of his beard, the smooth softness of his cheek. Repeating his name, she runs her thumb the length of his nose and then leans down, presses a slow, lingering kiss to his lips when he looks up at her. Straightening, she combs her fingers slowly through his hair, a motion he loves, eliciting a sigh of pleasure.
"Will you spend the rest of your life with me?" The question comes from nowhere, from everywhere. And she means it, wholeheartedly.
Boyd stills completely. Slowly opens his eyes and looks up at her. Quietly stares. "Did you just propose to me?" His voice is thick, almost shocked.
Smiling down at him, Grace shakes her head. "No."
Hazel eyes regard her, seem disappointed.
Smoothing his eyebrows, she asks, "Why? Would you like me to?"
For a while he simply studies her quietly, intensely. Grace can't read his expression, but she lets him have the time, softly stroking his cheek until he offers her a strangely shy, "Maybe."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," she murmurs.
Boyd twists, reaches for her. Eases her down of the blanket beside him. Props his head on his elbow and gazes at her thoughtfully. "You never disappoint me," he concludes, and it's so easy, so unaffected that she really has to raise an eyebrow at him.
"No?"
"No." Tucking her hair behind her ear, he traces down, fingertips running to her shoulder, across to the strap of her dress and down, along the neckline. "It's true. You make me happy. Feel loved. With you I don't have to be someone else."
Grace understands. She understands, because she knows exactly what he means. Feels just the same in return.
He clears his throat, and she's startled to see that his eyes seem to glitter, as though there are unshed tears there. "And yes, I'll spend the rest of my life with you. I'd marry you, you know, if you asked me to, or said yes when I did. But if you don't want to… well, I suppose I can live with that."
"You can live with that, can you?" she laughs, enjoying the beauty of it all, the way they are together.
Those eyes regard her, entirely solemn. "I can." A twinkle appears, and he grins at her, the pretence disappearing. The intensity of the serious moment dissipates, and he reaches for her hand, pulls it towards his lips. Something cool touches her skin, encircles her finger before he nuzzles against her.
When Boyd finally releases his grasp and she's able examine her hand for the source of the coolness, Grace finds that there is now a silver band resting snugly on her ring finger.
"It's a promise," is the simple explanation. "To love you forever."
A lump forms in her throat. "Peter…" No other words appear.
"I'm not asking, not today. But for now…"
Still speechless, Grace brings her hand closer to her face, examines the simple silver design, the elegant twists of the hand-formed metal that fits perfectly.
"One day?" she mumbles, gazing up at him, eyes welling up.
He strokes her eyelids, captures her hand again. Kisses the palm with impossible tenderness. "One day. I promise."
It's so pretty, the ring, and Grace finds herself drawn into a study of it again. The enormity of his vow doesn't escape her, and she's hugely touched and humbled by what he's done. "It's beautiful," she tells him, not in the least bit embarrassed by the heavy emotion lacing her voice.
"I saw it in a window while you were in the bakery earlier," is the explanation that's returned to her. "And I knew it was perfect for what I wanted to tell you."
Astonished, Grace drags her gaze away from the wonderful craftsmanship adorning her ring finger to stare up at him. "You bought it today? This morning?"
"I did."
"But…" No more words avail themselves to her. A spur of the moment thing, both of them somehow seizing on the perfect moment.
Boyd gets the significance of it. Completely. He shrugs, strokes her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Great minds think alike and all that."
The breath stuck in her chest slowly escapes. "So it would seem."
"Well, you do have a brilliant mind. And you remember all the important stuff, so I don't have to."
Really, he's outrageous when he wants to be. "Ah, so that's why you want to keep me around, eh? That's why you're with me?"
Boyd laughs. "God, no. It's your body I'm after, I'm afraid. Your mind is just a bonus." As if to underscore his point, the hand that was tickling her neck flattens and skims down over her shoulder and lower until he can cup her breast and squeeze.
"Naughty boy," scolds Grace, but the intent behind her words dies as a shiver work its way up her spine. It's all a joke, naturally, but as he rolls over her, his weight supported by his arms and his head lowering until his lips can brush slowly, delicately against hers, she finds she really doesn't care to keep up the game any longer.
She loves him, and he adores her. Everything about her. And they are as they have always been; a perfect fit.
The kiss is warm and filled with hope and optimism, two things that have been missing from their lives for far too long just recently. And so, in the warm shade beneath the tree they lie together, thoroughly entangled and entwined with one another, enthralled in the blissful, simple joy of being alone with each other on a hot summer's day.