"Delaney. Babygirl, wake up."
I heard an annoying buzz above my blanket-covered head.
I turned over, trying to nuzzle my way back into the dream-like state my mind had been acquired to.
"Go away," I groaned, shoving my hand into Xavier's face in an attempt to push him away.
He only chuckled at my futile attempts.
"Happy anniversary, sweetheart."
I shot out of my comfy spot as soon as the words registered in my sleep-fogged mind.
"Oh! I totally knew that! I was just testing you!" I puffed out an airy laugh.
Xavier twisted up his face in mock disbelief.
"Oh I'm sure," he mocked me.
I giggled, dropping back onto the mattress.
He climbed overtop of me, resting all of his weight on his arms. He grinned down at me mischievously.
"Get ready. We're going out for a date." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at me, but it turned out more like two caterpillars slithering.
I watched as his face zoomed into focus, closer and closer towards my face.
I felt his warm, plump lips attach to mine. Instinctively, my lips molded to his. I eagerly welcomed his tongue as it explored my mouth with greed.
His hands held my waist. They moved slowly, rubbing me. One rested on my butt, squeezing suddenly. I moaned loudly. But it was muffled by his mouth.
I pulled back hesitantly, heaving in some air to regain my breath.
"We need to go on our date. You planned everything out–we're not missing it," I convinced him.
"Take a shower with me," I asked with a purr to my voice, dragging my hand sensually over his chest.
Without warning, he grabbed my butt and lifted my thighs around his waist, walking towards the bathroom.
I shrieked at the sudden movement, holding onto his shoulders tightly.
I stripped out of my T-shirt and panties as Xavier turned the shower on.
I stepped into the water and watched as he stripped in front of me–my favorite view.
After the shower, I wrapped the plush towel around my nude body and made my way into the closet.
I chose a lavender skirt with black and white stripes on it. Then a pure white sweater to go with it.
I applied mascara and eyeliner, along with doing my eyebrows.
I brushed my teeth and hair, next. Once I was done, I put the close on and looked at everything in our full mirror.
I tucked the front of the sweater in to the skirt.
I slipped on my matte white heals and and grabbed my black purse.
After doing a final look in the mirror, I made my way downstairs to find Xavier waiting on me.
"Come on,"
••••••••••••
Xavier refused to tell me where we were going, so I eagerly observed as he pulled up to a fancy restaurant.
It looked classy and elegant, but not overly pricey–perfect fit.
"This looks great, babe." I grinned up at him as he held the door for me. I intertwined our hands as we made our way to the restaurant, up the stairs.
"Reservation for King," Xavier informed the hostess.
"Right this way." She motioned for us to follow her. We did, walking to the back side of the restaurant. It had a great sky view over the area.
"This is beautiful," I spoke with a grateful smile towards Xavier as he pushed my chair in and sat across from me.
The view showed fields nearby, filled with tons of flowers—it was gorgeous. There were buildings close by that were lit up. Vintage neon signs hung above the older places. Modern designed buildings stood beside aged businesses.
We made conversation about the future, our wedding, friends going off to college. It was easy to talk to Xavier about anything–he was my other half.
"Are you ready to order?" A nasally voice broke through our conversation. I looked away from Xavier's face to see a perky brunette waitress.
She had brown hair down to her mid-back and a face full of perfectly done makeup. Her golden eyes glowed under the lighten of the restaurant. Her uniform hugged her body perfectly.
Overall, she was gorgeous.
"Yes ma'am, I think we are." Xavier spoke, looking at me for confirmation. I nodded back at him subtly.
"Well, what can I get for you, handsome?" She questioned with a sultry tone. Her hand slithered down to curl against his collarbone.
He flinched away. Instantly.
"I'll have a fettuccini alfredo," I spoke confidently, feeling an ego-boost from the interaction.
"I'll have the same," he spoke dismissively towards the snarky women.
She snorted out loudly, walking away from out table with an eye roll.
I giggled into the back of my hand, turning to look back at my date.
"So, there is something to talk about," I started, knowing the change made affected him greatly.
He nodded at me to go on, looking intrigued and confused.
"Well I had another thing to do to get into the Army. When I went to discuss it, they refused to let me enlist while I was under a current diagnosis of PTSD. My therapist said that, though I've made notable progress, the few affects that I do experience are to severe to clear me," I explained while looking at the table in front of me. I couldn't make eye contact without getting emotional.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I know you've wanted this—maybe you can help people some other way," he spoke calmly. He reached over the table to intertwine our hands, giving mine a soft, reassuring squeeze.
"Everything will be ok—"
He got cut off by a woman. She wore a dark red, long dress. Her hair was light brown, cut into a short bob.
She looked hesitantly towards us. Her eyes held unshed tears and her hands shook softly as she got to us.
"D-delaney?" Her voice wobbled as she asked, directing all of her attention to me.
"Yes, ma'am?" I asked politely.
Her face looked familiar–but I had no idea where I'd met her, or seen her at all.
When I spoke, she instantly burst into tears–heartbreakingly painful tears. Her knees looked ready to give out from under her as her legs shook. She held on to the table to stay standing.
Her family behind her stayed back. The man–who I assumed to be her husband–started to walk towards her before she spoke again.
"I'm your mother," she informed me with a guilt-ridden face in my direction.
She looked ready for me to sob or shout–throw a tantrum at her feet, or go hugging her instantly.
But I sat there. Wearing no expression on my face, a trick I'd learned from so many foster homes.
People like to watch others squirm or react. They they've off of their reactions. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction—I couldn't.