October 9th, 1990

October 9th, 1990

Penta Hotel, Heathrow Airport, England

Just when I thought David couldn’t be more perfect, he rang first thing (like six this morning first thing!) to say he’d changed his flight from Germany to LA so he could spend the night in the UK.

“I’ll be in class all day, did you forget?”

“No, what time will it be over?”

“I should be done by five at the latest, which unfortunately won’t give us much time at my house.”

“I took the liberty of booking a room at the hotel.”

“Wow, what time did you get up?” I laughed. “So, is it safe for me to assume I’ll be spending the night?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Ah, be still my beating heart.

“Sounds great, I should be at the hotel by about five thirty.”

“Tell me where you’ll be, I’ll come pick you up.”

“Are you sure? Will you have a car?”

“I already reserved a rental car.”

Oh my!

 

I couldn’t wait for class (annual certification for Safety, Emergency Procedures on the Boeing 747) to be over but when the instructor said we were done at four thirty I inwardly groaned, thinking of the wait I’d have ‘til David arrived. Of course I should’ve known he’d already be outside, waiting.

“Didn’t I just see you in Germany?” he grinned, holding the car door open.

I laughed. “Hurry up and get in, I can’t be seen kissing you in uniform.”

 

A few seconds later, he leaned over and kissed me. “Better?”

“You tell me.”

“Much, much better,” he smiled. “Hey, you wanna go to London for dinner?”

“Yeah, that sounds fab but I need to change first. My car’s on the other side,” I said, pointing.

“Cool,” he smiled. “Show me the way.”

 

Amazing night. Amazing guy.

In every way.

 

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