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Hank knew, as he strolled past the shops with flowers and chocolate in their windows, that none of this would ever fly with Stella. He wasn't exactly a fan of Valentine’s Day either, but she viewed it more offensively than he did. He just thought it was silly and she thought it was more than a little ridiculous.
It wasn't limited to Valentine's Day though. Stella thought most romantic overtures were unnecessary and suspicious. On the one hand, it certainly kept her in the low maintenance category, but on the other, Hank did have the urge to want to spoil her on occasion. The last time he'd brought her flowers just for the hell of it they were met with a rather cool reception. And she even liked flowers, just not as gifts apparently. Like most things in her life, they served a function. She bought them weekly to display in a glass vase in the front window, not to sit and admire or appreciate them, but just to decorate with something living that required no maintenance.
He couldn't help himself, though. Everywhere he went it seemed he was surrounded by hearts and he wanted to do a little something for her since she'd refused to even let him take her to dinner. Just as well on that front; most of the nicer restaurants in their neighborhood were booked anyway.
She would be home early that night. Early by her standards. Normally, he wouldn't see her until eight or nine o’clock, but she was prepping for an upcoming trial and her days were being spent in a barristers office and not her own. Consequently, she was home by six for the last week.
So, Hank kept things low-key for the evening. He ordered from an Italian place that had a tiramisu she liked and pretended like he just happened to be out and got inspired to pick it up on his way home. She gave him a suspicious look like she knew exactly what he was doing and couldn't decide if she wanted to call him out on it or not. She didn't say anything, which worked in his favor for the second part of his plan.
After dinner, as per usual, she announced she was headed up to take a shower. He waved her away and said he'd take care of clean up. And then he waited. He waited for the sound of the shower before he crept upstairs and took the small pink giftbag out from his sock drawer. He’d already snipped the tags off the gift and he transferred the contents from the bag to her lingerie drawer. The sound of wood scraping against wood was hushed, but still too loud for his liking and he moved as slow as possible to be as quiet as possible. When he finished, he crept back downstairs and threw the bag away and then added the trash from their dinner over it to conceal as much of the evidence as possible.
The water stopped running not too long after he finished cleaning up the kitchen and he took up a book he’d been meaning to read and settled on the sofa. He figured it wouldn’t be too long before she either came downstairs or called for him to come upstairs, so he just waited, and read the same page about five times without absorbing any of the text.
When he heard her feet on the stairs, he tried to feign as much interest in the book as possible. He took a few sideways glances towards the kitchen as she stopped there first to pour herself another glass of wine. She was wearing a pair of flannel pants and a grey t-shirt, which is not what he expected to see her in, but he didn’t say anything and flipped the page of the book he wasn’t reading.
Eventually, she joined him on the couch and sat with her back to the arm. He took her feet into his lap and rubbed her toes, still feigning deep interest in his book.
“Good book?” she asked.
“Just getting started,” he answered.
She sipped her wine. He continued to rub her foot, but he was feeling restless and anxious. He had to know if she’d looked in her drawer. She must’ve. He’d never known her to not wear underwear, which is why he thought his plan was so perfect.
“So, I was upstairs,” she said.
“Umhm…”
“And I noticed that…”
“What did you notice?”
“I think the tub may need to be recaulked. I might do that this weekend.”
He put his book down and looked at her. She sipped her wine and peered at him from over the rim of the glass, but he could see just the hint of a smile on her lips. When she lowered the glass, he took it from her hand and leaned over to set it on the table, where he also tossed his book, and then he leaned over towards her. Her feet were still in his lap and she flexed her toes against his leg.
One hand went to her hip and he went under the hem of her t-shirt with his thumb. He rubbed the soft skin of her belly a few times and then pulled at the elastic waistband of her pants. He could see just the barest hint of the red lace he’d so carefully picked out in the shop.
“Tell me, Hank,” she said, as he drew a line across the lace edge with the tip of his finger. “Was this a gift for me or for you?”
“Me,” he answered. “You just happen to be the package it comes in.”
“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”
“I do.” He nodded. “You never said anything about not getting myself something for the occasion. Just you. And, I mean, there were all these sales and I just thought, why not take advantage of a really good bargain.”
“Hmm…”
She pushed him away at the chest and then swung her legs off his lap. Before she walked away, she picked up her wine and took another sip. There was a definite sway in her hips as she made her way towards the stairs. She stopped on the first step and looked back at him.
“Well,” she said. “Aren’t you coming up to unwrap your package?”
The End