The Tale of the Third: The Plan
“I’m already here…” she read his message. She thought about how unnecessarily dangerous it was to keep texting while driving. Why don’t I have his phone number? she wonde
“…just 20 more minutes max…traffic’s decent,” she wrote back.
“No problem. I waited three years; I can handle a few more minutes,” he replied almost immediately.
“Should I order something? Anything you’d like?” He was secretly hoping she’d say she wanted him.
“I’ll leave it to you. Pick something,” she teased as she smiled at her phone.
“On it…” He liked her decisiveness.
I doubt you’ll remember what I like, but I’ll let you surprise me, she thought as she passed a short line of cars. The traffic was beginning to thicken.
“Oh no…” she muttered. “I’ll have to take another route.” Around the next bend, a much longer queue of cars appeared, and the last ones were already braking hard.
“It’s going to take a bit longer,” she texted. “I need to detour through Trenton.”
This time, she had to wait a little longer for his reply.
“Okay…I’ll keep myself busy. A colleague gave me a manuscript to read, so now’s the perfect time.”
“Fine…you’re not mad, are you?” she asked.
“Why would I be? Not everything can be planned, and we have the whole weekend ahead of us. Just get here safely,” he reassured her.
“Thanks, you’re a gem,” she wrote back, adding a small heart emoji. It was green. She’d hit the wrong one by accident.
Time flew by as he got lost in the manuscript. He glanced at his watch—an hour had passed.
Everything okay? he messaged her.
The message didn’t deliver.
Must be out of range, he thought. He set the manuscript aside and started staring at the undelivered message icon. Five minutes passed. Nothing. Then another five. Still nothing. He began to feel uneasy.
He thought about the area she might be driving through. He knew it well enough. No…there’s nowhere on that road where she’d lose signal. So why hasn’t it delivered?
Maybe her phone died after a long day. He immediately dismissed the thought. She’d raved so often about how convenient the wireless charger in her car was.
He restarted the data on his phone. When that didn’t help, he restarted the whole device. Okay, maybe the issue’s on my end, he thought, urging the phone to reboot faster.
“Come on…” he muttered. PIN, fingerprint, start Messenger… damn it, he fumbled. He restarted the app again, just to be sure.
“Boo!”
The voice startled him from behind.
“You’ve been waiting long, huh?” she said, leaning in close so he could catch the scent of her Burberry perfume. He loved that scent.
He kissed her gently. She didn’t pull away or comment. She simply sat down and raised her eyebrows playfully.
“So, did you pick something? Do you remember what I like?”
“To be honest…I have no idea what you like,” he admitted. “In fact, I wouldn’t even know where to remember it from. But I do remember when he introduced us. And I remember how I had to stop myself from staring at you.”
She smiled.
“I was thinking of a Caesar salad with salmon…and champagne. Cristal, maybe. It’s a special day, and I want to talk for hours. Not pass out stuffed with Chateaubriand.”
“I’m looking forward to hearing you talk,” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
“No, no—you can’t look forward to it,” he reminded her of their playful exchange from the night before. “Whenever I get excited about something, it ends up falling flat, like cheap sparkling wine.”
“We need to exchange phone numbers,” they both said simultaneously.
They burst out laughing, easing the atmosphere.
“You’re such a clown…utterly unbelievable. And inked, too,” she teased, pointing to his arm.
He rolled up his sleeve, revealing his fully tattooed forearm.
The older couple at the next table visibly stiffened.
They talked for hours, the last guests reluctant to leave. Their conversation spanned everything—life, interests, values. They tried to outdo each other with the craziest things they’d ever done and the wildest ideas they still wanted to try.
The waiter subtly hinted multiple times that, while he appreciated their company, he’d like to go home. Yet her smile and his generous tips kept him from pressing the matter.
At the reception, they picked up the room key.
“Married?” the receptionist asked.
“That’s none of your business,” he replied to the unnecessary question.
“Of course, my apologies. Enjoy the rest of your night,” the receptionist said, watching the entwined couple walk off.
He unlocked the door.
“Go ahead,” he said, letting her enter first.
“Wow, it’s beautiful,” she breathed.
A suite straight out of a movie, she thought, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
Wow…this is it, he thought.
“Shall we have something to drink?” he asked, heading toward the minibar.
“I could go for some bread with lard, homemade cracklings, and onions,” she teased roguishly. “And you,” she added.
“In that order? Seriously?” he turned to her.
“I’ll leave the order up to you.”
He returned empty-handed.
She had leaned back on the bed, her legs dangling over the edge. She was lying flat, her eyes closed. Her short skirt had ridden up higher than usual. He knew she was waiting.
He leaned over her, kissed her, and felt her breath quicken. He lightly grazed her neck with his teeth, moving toward her ear.
“I have an idea…come on.”
She opened her eyes, disappointed.
“Don’t worry, you’ll see…we’ll go for a drive and come back after.”
“And where are we going?”
“I don’t know yet. It’s not about where, it’s about why.”
“And why are we going?”
“You’ll see. Trust me. Just as you are—no need to change. The car is warm.”
They slipped past the sleepy receptionist.
“We’ll take mine,” he said, opening the back door for her.
“You don’t want me to sit up front with you? You could…”
“We’ll talk,” he interrupted her. “Talk about making love…until it becomes unbearable, and I have to stop. Anywhere.”
