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The first rays of sunshine poke through the curtain and softly wake her up. He’s still peacefully asleep, older than yesterday, but as handsome and charming. His strong chest lifts with his heavy breathing. She knows he’ll wake up soon, the shape of the sheet over his groin doesn’t hide anything of his anatomy, and let her know that he’s between sleep and awaking. Usually, when she’s lucky enough to be with him for his birthday, she would just slip under the sheets, and take him in her mouth, waking him in the best possible way. But today is different. She has planned something else, and her heart beats faster and faster as she’s approaching the critical moment. She remembers every single time he asked. And there were quite a lot. The first time was two years ago. He was missing her so badly that he flew all the way from New-York to show up at her door in London, and kneeled before her. She wasn’t expecting it, he caught her off guard, she wasn’t ready, and she didn’t say yes. She hurt him, even if he said it was okay, and he could wait, she knows she’d hurt him. And she’d hurt him again in New-York, Vancouver, Los Angeles, Mexico, Maldives and one last time two weeks ago in Malibu.
They went out with a few friends. The dinner was good, so was the wine, and he enjoyed himself a little bit too much. She had to drive him home as he was really drunk. She tried not to laugh when he missed the front door of the car and tried to sit on the child car seat, and he held his breath, stopped moving and raised his hands like a guilty kid when she pulled his seat belt over him to buckle it. For some reason, she always had a thing for drunk-David. Back in the day, alcohol gave him confidence and the urge to fight for everything with everyone. But he was older now, and drunk-David was just a big cute marshmallow overflowing with love for her. He made a poem about her ass while she was walking before him on their way to the house, he took his guitar and wrote a song for her, watching her under the shower. It didn’t end well, because first, he couldn’t play the guitar and kept hitting wrong notes, and also because she forced him to brush his teeth while he sang. Once in bed, he didn’t want to sleep, he wanted to make love to her, but it didn’t work, so he said he would make love to her with words. He told her how beautiful she was, how much he loved her from the first day he saw her, how stupid he was that he didn’t realize she was the woman of his life twenty years ago, but he knew it now, and he would never let her go again. She knew exactly where he was going. Again. She tried to stop him. “Don’t say it,” she told him. “I have to,” he answered. He proposed. And she hurt him one more time. She knew he cried before falling asleep. It was probably more the alcohol than her, that’s what she told herself, and hoped he would forget everything the day after. He didn’t. When they woke up, he said “I’m gonna ask one last time. I’m gonna do it right. I’ll request for you hand to your step-dad, and ask the consent of your kids, and once it’s done, I’m gonna kneel in a suit with a huge diamond, and you’re gonna say yes.” Then he left the bed, and she joined him in the shower and apologized.
But these vacations they spent together had an effect on her. She doesn’t know if it’s the fact of being with him for such a long period of time, or watching him taking care of his kids and hers, but she realizes that she will spend the rest of her life with him. It’s not like she has a choice. It’s him. Period. Birthdays always had a special meaning in their history, and she feels like this morning is the perfect moment to tell him.
“David… David, get up, sweetie.” she whispers in his ear.
He hums his disapproval to be awakened before the natural end of his sleep cycle, but she urges him and pushes him out of the bed with a power she wasn’t expecting herself.
“Come on, put this,” she says, handing him a suit-pants and a white shirt. His eyes are still full of sleep, he probably doesn’t see very well without his glasses as he buttons-up his shirt upside down, and he hasn’t said anything about the beautiful white dress she’s wearing just out of the bed.
“What’s happening? What are we doing? It’s my birthday, we should be celebrating in bed right now!” he complains when she pushes him out of the bedroom, in silence, not to wake up the kids.
They head towards the balcony, and she opens the window to step outside. The sun has risen over Vancouver Island, reflecting on the beautiful pond in her garden. For the first time since she’d awake him, she stops rushing, takes his hands in hers, and a deep breath, looking into his eyes.
“Baby, what are…”
“I love you.” she interrupts. “I really do. I know I can be hard on you sometimes, I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I truly am. I love you, David. I want to spend the rest of my life by your side.” Tears start to blur her vision, and she bites at her cheeks to stop her from really crying.
“Okay. Okay, what’s happening, now?” he says, obviously confused by the situation. But she suddenly makes it crystal clear as she kneels on one knee before him, his hand in hers.
He looks taller from this point of view, more impressive and she’d never felt so fragile, weak and exposed in her life.
“David William Duchovny…” she says, staring at his confused eyes, her wide smile wet with the tears flowing on her cheeks.
“Gill?” he says, and she knows that he knows, now. His fingers squeeze her hand and he’s short-breathing.
“Yes.” she simply states, wiping the tears from her face. “I want to marry you.”