She appreciated Sophia for coming around, but deep down she was starting to feel uncomfortable having her around.
They weren't particularly close, and having to speak to her for a long time bothered her. She secretly thanked the call for cutting her short.
"I know you've always wanted this. You should unwrap it when you get home." Sophia handed her a small parcel she had prepared as a birthday gift. "I hope that we will see each other again. We have a lot to catch up on, Orla."
Orla nodded, not sure if there would be a next time. She took the parcel from her, mouthing a brief 'thank you'.
"Thanks for having me, Callan. I will leave you now." She stood straight, her slender figure more captivating than it had ever been.
For a minute, Orla was so jealous of her sister's flawless looks. She feigned a last smile, watching as she walked out of the garden, leaving her alone with Callan. Exactly what she had wanted since they got there.
Two stewards appeared immediately after Sophia disappeared. One passed a bouquet to Orla while the other knelt to serve her a glass of wine.
Callan," she giggled, suspiciously eyeing her husband. She took the flower from him and thanked them.
"Happy birthday, Ma'am." They bowed, exiting after serving the wine.
"There is no one here." She said when they were gone.
"I want just the two of us here. I want to spend today with you."
"I don't know what to say, Callan." She fiddled with the flower.
"It's okay for you to be stunned." He gently picked up his glass, urging her to toast to her day.
Orla reached for the glass, but a tiny piece of paper that was placed below the glass caught her attention. She lowered the glass on the table and picked up the paper instead.
She gave him a quizzical look before unfolding the paper.
"Orla Barlowe. You are a special one and I own you." She read out, his possessiveness causing her heart to miss a beat.
"Come here," he was now up, towering over her. She looked up to meet his outstretched hand, calling out to her.
Clasping her hands with his, she stood to her feet. Her heart thumped, matching the beats of his heart as she rested her head on his chest.
"Happy birthday to you, Slow girl." He swayed to the side, dancing to an imaginary beat. Orla moved along with him.
"There is no music, Callan."
"There is a song playing in my heart. Just move with me. I promise to guide your steps."
She smiled, trusting his words. "Thank you, Callan."
Everywhere was quiet. The faint sunset was now out and sleek, dimly gleaming upon them as they moved from side to side.
"Thank you for coming into my life and giving me so much peace, Orla." He slowed down, looking into her eyes. No words were said, but their eyes and hearts communicated.
She tiptoed, kissing his cheeks. He stopped dancing and drew her closer, snaking his hand around her waist. He gently brushed his lips through her lips.
He could feel the flame burning inside of him as he looked into her eyes. The kind of flame that glistened violently but didn't hurt, the kind that was unquenchable and pure. He didn't know what it was at that moment, but the feeling was tender. He had never felt that way.
There was something different about her, something different about when he kissed her and made love to her. Something different about how she touched him and the way she laughed. Something different about how she stared at him with those large hazel eyes.
Her soft giggle softened his hardened heart. She was soft, so tender; he didn't want to ever hurt her.
"Is the music still playing?" Orla asked teasingly when Callan stopped dancing.
"Yes." He smiled. Looking around, he knew something was missing, and then it clicked. "I guess I am a terrible planner."
"Why?" She asked.
"I planned a birthday without a cake. Who does that?"
Orla burst into laughter. "I didn't notice that there was no cake, for real." She sighed, staring at him. "It doesn't matter though. This is enough for me. Everything you've done today is more than enough for me. Staying here with you is more than a birthday cake."
"I will get one now. They sell it here." He dug his hand into his pocket to pull out his phone, but Orla stopped him.
"Callan. This is more than enough, I promise."
"Agreed but I do not accept." He placed a call to the reception to order a cake for the birthday.
Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he held his wife and resumed dancing to the imaginary beat that played in his head.
"Thanks for all that you do." Orla mouthed when they had finally stopped dancing. "I am in a hurry to make a wish before the cake arrives. Can I go on?" She asked and he nodded, jerking a finger up. "What?" She giggled again.
"You will make another wish when the cake arrives. Today is your day and you are allowed to make wishes. So, go on."
"Hmm. My wish is simple, Callan."
"Go on," he nudged her with his hand.
"Callan. I wish that you will always be with me, Callan."
He looked at her. The wish was really simple but not all simple. He didn't know why that request came with a lot of weight on his shoulders, but he didn't hold onto whatever was telling him not to promise her forever.
"I am always here with you. Even when you don't feel it, I am closer than you can imagine."
"Callan. I—"
The resounding footsteps of the steward with the cake interrupted her and she swallowed her words, uncertain about what she wanted to say.
"I am just happy." She changed her words, glad Callan didn't notice. "The cake is here. Let's cut it."
She rushed to where the cake was placed on the table and closed her eyes to make another wish before digging the knife into the pink drip cake that had 'Mrs Barlowe' inscribed on it.
She cut it into two, picked a half and fed it to Callan.
"So nice," she moaned, chomping on the cake.
"After this. I have something else for you." He chomped on the one she fed him, kissing her cheeks.
"What is that?"
"You will find out when we leave here." He answered, cutting more from the cake.
She smiled and he did too, pleased she was happy about the mini-surprise.