Beginnings

Siobhan groaned aloud in her car at the remembrance of how downright stupid she felt, smacked ass doesn't even begin to describe it.

"Carmen, oh my God Carmen, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. I kind of liked the way you flipped out. It shows me how much you don't want to lose me."

"Well, um, yeah" she faltered, "I don't want to lose you and when I thought that -"

"When you thought that I'd done something so heinous as, one, cheat on you, and two, have that woman call for me here - and totally disrespect you in the process, you had to protect your territory ... and your heart."

"Forgive me?" she whispered, her eyes downcast as she fumbled with her fingers.

He walked over to her then, sliding his arms about her, pulling her into a comforting embrace. Carmen tilted her face up to his "Von. There's nothing to forgive." He leaned down and kissed her softly. "I love you. Now, what's say we clean up this mess before my cousin gets here?"

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As the last notes of the song played out, Siobhan sighed deeply, fighting off the memories that came next ...

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"Carmen, can I take off the blindfold now?"

"Not yet. Almost."

They'd be driving for at least an hour, judging by the number of songs that had played since they left the house. It was the end of the summer and they'd been together almost fifteen months. Fifteen glorious months. Sure, they'd had their squabbles, spats, even a couple knock-down-drag-outs. The one thing they'd never done, even during the times when they were so angry with the other that they'd rather spit than speak to one another, they'd never let a night pass without saying "I love you." Now, this isn't the same as going to bed angry because they did that a few times. They'd both strongly felt that, no matter how angry they were, there was still love; and, since none of us know what tomorrow may bring or even if tomorrow will come, it was important to express that love.

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That day, Carmen had showed up at her place bright and early, like he normally did on the weekends, with steaming hot coffee, fresh pastries, and fresh flowers. Always. Every weekend. And, when he stayed over on Friday nights, he woke before her, went out ... and got steaming hot coffee, fresh pastries, and fresh flowers.

Then, he would climb onto the bed with her, waking her to all those marvelous scents: french roast coffee, warm cinammon buns, and an ever-changing array of flowers, sometimes roses, sometimes lilacs, sometimes gardenias. Whatever the flowers were, they were always brightly colored and beautifully scented.

That Saturday morning was no different. Well, almost. He'd brought the coffee and the pastries; but, he didn't bring her flowers. He brought her a seashell. Well, "seashell" doesn't quite describe it. It was one of those conch shells, the kind you hold up to your ear to hear the ocean. When she woke, she could smell those wonderful ocean smells, the fresh salt air and the sand and the water, all wrapped up in the vibrant coral pink of the shell.

She looked at him quizzically, watching him digging through her dresser drawers, pulling out clothes as she sipped her coffee and ate her pastry in earnest. She was always ravenous in the morning, for food or otherwise, and it was one of the things he found most endearing.

"Honey?" she questioned in a sing-song way. "What, pray tell, are you doing?"

"We're going for a ride." He stated, matter-of-factly, continuing to toss clothes onto the bed.

"Well, where are we going?"

"It's a surprise. C'mon. Get up, get showered and get dressed."

"Yes, Sir!" she responded, playfully saluting him in the process.

As they got in the car, he produced a black satin blindfold, and she arched one chestnut brown eyebrow at him as he placed it over her eyes.

The first place he took her was to "Vixens", the bar where they'd met. When they walked in, there was a single red rose waiting for her, and the dancers and other employees all had conspiratorial grins on their faces.

Next, he'd taken her to the restaurant where they'd gone the first time he'd taken her to dinner, DiNardo's, a quaint, wonderfully romantic, Italian restaurant, where there was a picnic basket full of mouth-watering delicacies, and a bottle of their finest Chianti.

In between each stop, the blindfold went back on and her heart swelled each time it was removed, recalling all of those "first times" with him.

He took her next to the seedy, rat-trap motel where they'd first made love and first told each other "I love you" and she arched that eyebrow again, grinning wickedly, thinking that this was the last stop, assuming that they'd spend the rest of the day and night making love. Her face registered a look of surprise as the manager handed her a huge, wrapped bundle, a knowing smile on his wrinkled, aged face. "You two make a beautiful couple. I remember the two of you. Yup, that's right. I've never seen two people tear into a room like you two did ... and, believe me, I've seen some footraces for the door in my time here!" he teased, playfully, bringing smiles -- and even a slight blush to Siobhan -- to both their faces. When she got to the car, she unwrapped the bundle and found a thick, deep purple satin comforter. She turned to Carmen and looked at him, questioningly, a slight smile adorning her face and he just beamed back in response.

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"Babe. C'mon! Pleeeeaaaassseeee?" she half-whined.

Carmen laughed, then stopped the car. "We're here."

Siobhan tore the blindfold from her eyes, gasping at the sight of the beach at the first hint of sunset, the white sand stretching out, gently touching the brilliant blue-green of the ocean. Carmen whistled and grinned as he removed the blanket and picnic basket from the car, paying her awe no mind.

"Wait for me!" she yelled after him, stumbling and half-hopping, half-running as she tried to keep up while taking off her sneakers.

As her bare feet made that first contact with the warm sand, she sighed aloud, relishing in the feel of earth beneath her feet. Carmen walked, whistling and grinning the entire way, leading her to a small cove surrounded by high dunes around the back, with a long black jetty along the one side. The water was almost still within the cove and there was plenty of room to unfurl the blanket without worry of it getting wet.

He laid the blanket out, placing the basket atop it, before sitting down and removing his sneakers and socks. Siobhan just stood there, awestruck by the beauty that surrounded her. The most beautiful of all was the man before her and she'd never felt more proud to be with him. After removing his footwear, he rose and walked over to her, leaning down to cuff her pants. Then, taking her by the hand, he carefully led her out onto the jetty, stopping when they got about one-third of the way from the ocean end of it.

The sun was just beginning to dance with the colors of the sky; and, between that and the surf crashing against the end of the jetty, the seafoam shooting up and then spashing onto the rocks, Siobhan was light-headed with the romance of it.

Throughout all this, Carmen had said not one single word; and, Siobhan finally realized this fact. She turned to him, her mouth beginning to open to ask him why he was so quiet, her mouth then falling agape as he dropped down to one knee before her, and pulling a small black box from his pocket.

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