“Mine is Acts of Service. Some Quality Time. No Gifts.”
“Sasha denies that hers is Gifts, because she doesn’t want to look shallow.”
“You can’t run from who you are,”
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Noa replied, her voice quiet as she spoke to Antonio through her phone. “Or from what you want.” She back her bottom into the corner of the dark room. The light of their video chat glowed blue on her conflicted face.
“What do you think mine is?” Antonio asked from the toilet of his bright hotel bathroom.
“Words of Affirmation, no question.” Noa tossed a soiled onesie next to a hamper holding the rest of the babies’ laundry. “You sizzle like a firecracker when Sasha compliments you.”
“It’s Touch.” He held his fingers up to the camera.
“Because I only touched you on four-- Four? Yes, four separate occasion, before the evacuation,” Noa surmised.
“You touched me twice today.”
“If I didn’t hug you, you wife would have gotten suspicious.”
“When can I touch you again?”
Noa closed her eyes as a shield. “In three months?”
“Tomorrow? Before I leave?” he begged.
“I’ve been hatching a plan since the moment I saw you.”
She checked the time. “So you’ve had 12 hours.”
“It’s my Act of Service for you.”
She blinked. “Can we pull this off?”
“We’ll find out tomorrow.”