and Penn insisted he take me out on a real date.
“Let me spoil you,” he said with a charming smile that I found impossible to say no to.
I got dressed up as best as I could with the little clothes that I had. But he didn’t seem to mind that I was wearing a recycled dress he’d seen a dozen times this fall. His eyes lit up, and I could tell he was reevaluating whether or not we should leave the house.
“Come on,” I said with a laugh, ushering him toward the door.
He opened my car door and helped me inside before driving me into East Hampton. He chose a fancy seafood restaurant with an ocean view. The prices were astronomical, but he told me not to look at them.
Growing up broke hadn’t prepared me for that decision, and I skimped. He ordered extra on top of my order, giving me a look that said he knew I’d done it. And he was right, the food was the best I’d ever had in my entire life.
A pianist played classical music on a grand piano. At the end of the night, Penn held out his hand, and just like that perfect moment in Paris, he swept me out onto the small dance floor and twirled me around the room. I felt like a princess in my cheap dress and knockoff heels. More beautiful than I’d ever felt when Katherine played dress-up with me.
It was that look in his eyes that did it.
Day four, we woke up late. Really late. We’d had a late night that included a bubble bath and most of the surfaces in the house.
After we ate brunch, Penn grabbed a fleece blanket, his notebook, and a threadbare copy of The Great Gatsby, and he insisted we head down to the beach. I took my own notebook and followed him with interest.
I laid my head in his lap. The sea breeze kissed my skin. The waves lapped up to the edge of the beach. Penn read to me about Daisy and Gatsby’s great love. Fitzgerald’s incredible prose in Penn’s mouth was like having sex for a lover of words.
On the fifth day, I had to deal with the decorators as they rushed to the finish line for the mayor’s party on Saturday, which coincided with my last day of work. I was in a daze of happiness, even as we stood on a precipice. The halfway mark. There were now fewer days together than apart.
I fell asleep in his arms with Versailles playing in the background, and he didn’t wake me. Just stroked my hair until the episode ended and carried me to bed.
Day six, election day.
Penn had voted early, and I’d voted absentee in South Carolina. So, we sat around the living room and halfheartedly watched the election results come in. I was no lover of politics, except in the instances in which certain issues were life or death for me. Penn had grown up with a mother in the political sphere, and Lark had been working on campaigns for years. His interest ran deeper than mine, and it was actually interesting, hearing his side of it.
We popped open a bottle of champagne when it was announced that President Woodhouse had won reelection.
The day after the election, I woke up in a tangle of limbs. My head pounded from all the champagne we’d consumed the night before. I took a long, hot shower and blew my hair out before Penn even surfaced from the bed.
“Morning,” he said, kissing my cheek and then disappearing for his own shower.
I tugged on yoga pants and a sweatshirt before brewing a pot of coffee. Penn gratefully took his cup and drained it, piping hot.
“You’re insane.”
He grinned. “For you maybe.”
I finished mine without scalding myself, and then he put Totle on a leash and dragged me outside for our daily walk on the beach. Our fingers were locked. Totle bounded along, taking in every sight and sound. Sniffing and peeing on everything. The little ball of energy nearly pulled Penn’s arm out of its socket as he tried to take down a bird on the beach.
It was brisk, and we hustled back inside the house, trying to keep up with the puppy and get warm. Penn unleashed Totle and let him fly inside. But he grabbed me around the middle and tugged me close. My cold nose grazed his. Our lips met.
I was already trying to sneak my cold hands under his jacket.