Ben carefully maneuvered his Jeep Wrangler Unlimited along the road looping through Newark-Liberty airport, fighting to avoid the hundred and one idiot drivers who'd obviously been dispatched to kill him – and his passenger.
"Moron," he growled, as yet another less-than-conscientious driver decided a turn signal and adequate space wasn't required before cutting across two lanes of traffic to enter the short-term parking lot.
"Easy, Baby," Gaby whispered, reaching over from the passenger's seat to touch his elbow.
He frowned as he looked up into his rearview mirror. Their trip to the airport – and the resulting exercise in patience for Ben – was required by Gaby's participation in a teacher's conference in Miami.
What, Ben wondered, did her bosses think people would learn while surrounded by sun, sand, and half-naked bodies down there.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" Ben asked.
"I'm sure," she answered. "You couldn't come back to the gate anyway. Security."
"Security, ha," he grumbled, loudly, as he merged into the lane leading up a ramp to the Departures area of Terminal C.
Though he was tired, he silently blessed Gaby for booking a Wednesday, early-morning flight. He hated trying to get to and from the airport during the rush hours, and on Fridays. The number of idiot drivers increased exponentially during those times.
Approaching the middle of the building, Ben spied an opening at the curb. He managed to pull into the space without further incident. They slipped from the vehicle, and Ben began removing the myriad luggage Gaby needed. She had a large wheeled suitcase, a smaller suitcase, and a backpack.
"Why so much stuff?" Ben asked no one in particular. "It's Miami. All you need is a bikini and some sunblock."
"I don't even need the whole bikini," Gaby said, with a grin, "just the bottoms."
Ben stopped unloading and stared at her for a moment. She winked at him as she reached for her backpack.
"Watch out you don't get sunburned," Ben cautioned.
Gaby stuck out her tongue at him and stood on the curb as he pulled out the suitcases. She wore black yoga pants, black, calf-high, leather boots, topped off with an oversized, gray Texas A&M sweatshirt.
Once Ben had the baggage on the sidewalk, Gaby moved close to hug him. He slid his hands under her ass and lifted her petite, 5'2" frame off the ground. She wrapped her legs around him as they kissed for more than a minute.
"I have a plane to catch," Gaby whispered, breaking the kiss.
Ben returned Gaby to her feet. She reached around and squeezed his ass, as he looked into her brown eyes, and ran his right hand through the pixie cut dark-brown hair on her head.
"I'm going to miss you," he whispered.
"Be good," Gaby said.
"I can't promise that," Ben said, winking at her.
"Well, don't kill anyone on the drive home," she insisted.
"You never let me have any fun," Ben said, leaning over to kiss her again.
After the quick peck and a smile, she turned to pick up her backpack. Ben spied a Port Authority Police Officer moving slowly in their direction.
"I think I'm about to get shooed away," Ben said. "I'd better get going."
He turned to leave, but stopped, and spun to face her again.
"I love you, Gabriella Sarsaparilla Armadilla," he said, loudly, while taking two small steps backward.
A wide smile creased her face.
"I love you, too, Baby," she said.
He returned her smile as he disappeared around the corner of the Jeep. As he climbed into the driver's seat, Gaby began rolling her luggage toward the terminal. Ben watched the sliding doors close behind her before he pulled away from the curb.
Ben left the airport knowing he'd get home in time to grab a few more hours of sleep before getting up – again – to meet a new client. He'd tried to re-schedule this project so he could accompany Gaby to Miami. Unfortunately, the client's plans couldn't be changed, and – while in the process of buying a house – he knew the paycheck would be too substantial to pass up.
Late Friday afternoon, Ben sat in front of his computer, trying to write. He struggled to avoid the temptation of turning on the television, or checking his e-mail, or Twitter, or Facebook. As shadows slowly flooded his office, his cell phone rang. The ringtone let him know it was Gaby.
"City morgue," he answered.
"Hey, Babe," Gaby said, laughing. "What are you doing?"
"Writing," he said.
"So, you've been sitting there, staring at the monitor, arguing with yourself about the same word for the last 20 minutes, haven't you?" she asked.
"More like 30 minutes," he admitted.
She laughed at him.
"You know me too well," Ben said.
More long-distance laughter filled his ear.
"How's Miami?" he asked.
"It's nice," she said. "Very hot."
"Are you talking about the city, or the beach?" he teased.
"Oh, my Gods, you would not believe the bodies on the beach," she said. "Or, what some of the girls are calling bathing suits."
"Send me pictures, woman," Ben demanded.
He could almost see her rolling her eyes at him.
"Have you gotten much sun?" he asked.
"I was out for a few hours on Wednesday, but had meetings all day yesterday and today," she told him. "I'm hoping to get some more sun tomorrow."
"Mmmm, tan lines," he sighed. "I can't wait to see them...and lick them."
"Don't get me started," she warned. "I called for something else."
"Is everything OK?" he asked.
"Yes," she assured him. "Andy just called me and said she wanted to deliver some paperwork for the house. I told her she could bring them over to the apartment."
"Wow, that was fast," he said.
"She said to have our lawyer look over it; then we can sign it, and get it back to her," Gaby said.
"Sounds good to me," Ben said.
"Maybe you should take Andy to dinner," Gaby suggested.
"Uh," Ben managed to say, running a hand over the two-day growth of stubble on his chin.
"Shave quickly," Gaby said.
She really does know me too well, he thought.
"I'll try," he allowed.
"I have to get going, Babe," she said. "I have one more session for the day, and then I'm going out to dinner with the City University contingent."
"OK," he said. "Have fun."
"I will," she said. "I love you."
"I know," Ben said, hanging up.
He smiled, knowing if she were there in the room with him when he said that, she'd hit him. He saved his Word document, and then stood to head for the bathroom. After brushing his teeth, he shaved. Before he could strip off his t-shirt and sweatpants to hit the shower, however, he heard a long series of knocks on the apartment door.
Ben sauntered into the hallway. Since no one had buzzed from down at street level, he opened the apartment door expecting to see Whitney – a friend he and Gaby had played with a few times – or Mrs. Moynahan, the building's gossip monger, certified curmudgeon, and complainer-in-chief. The two women comprised their neighbors on the second floor. He hoped for the former, but sadly expected the latter.
