Back At Home
Margaret hummed softly as she unpacked their weekend bag, still glowing from their romantic getaway. She began a cycle of their clothes in the washing machine, smiling at the memory from the weekend that sparked the romance in their marriage. The weekend had been exactly what they needed—a reminder that they were still the passionate couple who’d fallen in love all those years ago.
Margaret reached into the side pocket of her suitcase where she always kept her more… personal items, and her hand came up empty. She frowned and checked again, then unzipped every compartment, shaking out dirty clothes and checking the compartment under there hygiene bag.
“Uhh, Harold,” she called out, with slight concern in her voice.
Harold appeared in the bedroom doorway, still glowing from the weekend, with a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Yeah baby, what’s up?”
Margaret looked up from where she was kneeling beside the open suitcase, her face covered with concern.
“I think I left it in the bed at the bed and breakfast.”
Harold took a sip of his coffee, not immediately catching on.
“Left what?”
Margaret raised her eyebrows meaningfully.
“You know?”
Harold’s stood there looking confused for a moment, then his eyes widened as realization dawned.
“No, I… ohhhh.”
He nearly choked on his coffee.
“How did you forget that?” He said.
“I don’t know, maybe because we were rushing to leave,” Margaret said, standing up and crossing her arms. “We were both pretty eager to get out of there after… we broke their antique bed from being too wild.”
Harold set down his coffee cup.
“Oh well, baby, I don’t… you know what to tell you.”
Margaret looked at him with a look in her eyes that he hadn’t seen in years.
“Well, that just means you’re gonna have to give me that hurricane tongue.”
Harold’s eyebrows shot up and he couldn’t help but grin.
“Is that so?” He said.
“Mmm-hmm,” Margaret said, stepping closer to him.
“I mean, we can’t let this romantic weekend momentum die just because I left the bullet behind, uh baby?”
Harold pulled her into his arms.
“You know what? You’re absolutely right. Who needs gadget’s when you’ve got the hurricane?”
Margaret laughed and kissed him deeply.
“That’s the spirit. Besides, it’s not like we can’t call the inn and ask them to mail it us.” Margaret suggested.
“Can you imagine that conversation?”
Harold laughed.
“‘Hi, yes, we stayed in the Rosewood Suite this weekend and we seem to have left our—’”
“Stop!” Margaret laughed, covering his mouth with her hand.
“This is not a joking matter. Those poor people have probably already found it and died from embarrassment on our behalf.”
“Well then,” Harold said.
Sweeping her up in his arms in a move that surprised them both.
“I guess I better make sure you don’t miss it.” Harold continued.
“Harold!” Margaret squealed, laughing as he carried her toward their bed.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“Twenty-two years of marriage and the best weekend we’ve had in ages,” he said, gently laying her down. “Plus, I’ve got a reputation to maintain now. Can’t have my wife thinking that bullet better than her husband.”
Margaret pulled him down for another kiss.
“Trust me, after this weekend, and this hurricane there’s no competition.”