An Evening With Mr Maxwell-Scott Chapter 5

That was the first time I saw him. A nameless man stood still among the crowd. His eyes. His eyes that were like beacons to a place I have always called home. The place where I am safe and loved and can breathe. Instantly, I could feel that light summer breeze that so epitomized my childhood in the peace and quiet of the ranch. The scent of freshly cut grass that looked almost blue in the morning sun, dripping with the dew of the day. I was transfixed. I was home. I need to be home.

There was then a hum and once again the party erupted in noise and I remembered where I was, who I was with. I looked up at Joseph and attempted to dazzle him with a smile. He gazed back at me with a softness that was undeniably endearing. I reminded myself that he was my home now, with him I was to build a life that we could enjoy together. It was absolutely glorious, of course, our future together. It would be full of parties and glitz and the glamour of the families with their heritage in East Egg. Though whilst it was supposedly mine, in the same breath, it was who I would have to become.

I originally came to New York, like most, in the search of more: more people, more noise, more opportunities. Compared to home there was a buzz in the city that felt almost electrifying. Simply, it was addictive. The first Christmas here was magical with a continuous run of festivities that fed the soul. The city felt alive. But even more than that, the city felt alive with joy. Lights shone brightly against the backdrop of darkening nights that emphasized the beauty of the stars above. This Christmas was different. The only hope that I felt was the calling of a light from far away, beckoning me home.

Deep within this mist of thought, Joseph softly placed his hand on my forearm, sending shivers down my spine. The day had now fully bled into night and the orchestra had transitioned to a more modern soundtrack. Couples filled the dance floor exhibiting the very best swivels danced as large groups or, more intimately, in closed hold cheek-to-cheek. Jordan always says that she likes large parties because they’re so intimate. She couldn’t be more right.

I released the single gold popper that secured my rich bridle leather chain purse and searched inside for my compact and lipstick. It was my favorite purse. A gift from Joseph for our two month anniversary, it would last me a lifetime acting as a constant reminder of his devotion. Leaning closer to him, breathing in his familiar scent, I whispered

“I’ll be one second darling.”