Chapter
Sixteen: Diamond Girl
Run Away With Me
The first week of November carried that unmistakable feeling—cooler mornings, softer afternoons, and the sense that the year was quietly gathering itself for the holidays ahead. The kind of week where time didn’t rush so much as lean forward, as if something good was coming. Wawa was already busy when Mark pulled in, the low sun glinting off windshields and steaming paper cups. Allan was leaning against his car when Mark walked up, shoulders relaxed, breath puffing faintly in the crisp air.
“Morning, brother,” Mark said, lifting his cup.
“Morning, Dude,” Allan replied, tapping his own cup against Mark’s with a light clink. “You look like you’re carrying secrets.” Mark smiled but didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering just long enough to make Allan suspicious.
“I want you to watch this,” Mark said. “Don’t say anything until it’s over. Minute and a half. Just…watch.” Allan raised an eyebrow but nodded. Mark hit play. The video opened with sweeping white landscapes and slow, cinematic music.
Ice fields. Glaciers calving into steel-blue water. Penguins wobbling across snow like tiny dignitaries late for a meeting. A ship cutting a clean line through silence and light. Allan’s expression shifted as he watched—first curiosity, then disbelief, then something close to awe.
“OH…” he said quietly. “Wow.” The video ended. Allan looked up slowly.
“For you and Kimmy?” he asked. “That’s… that’s once-in-a-lifetime stuff. That’s really cool.”
Mark’s smile didn’t widen—but his eyes did. He glanced deliberately to his left. Then to his right. Dropped his voice a notch. Slipping into full secret-agent mode, Mark reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a thick envelope. Across the front, written neatly, were the words:
ALLAN — YOUR EYES ONLY
Allan laughed. “Man, come on—” Mark placed the envelope in his hands. “No,” he said quietly. “Not just us.” Allan opened it, scanned the first page, then froze. “…the four of us?” he said slowly, eyes snapping back up. “WHAT?” Mark nodded, calm but unmistakably excited. “How great would this be? Read through it. The itinerary, the numbers, the timing—it’s all there. It wouldn’t be until next year. And if you’re in…” He paused, letting it land. “We spring it on the girls Christmas Eve. A four-way surprise.”
Allan leaned back against his car, staring at the envelope like it might start glowing.
“Oh, I’m loving this,” he said. “I need to check vacation days, make sure the numbers work—but yeah. Yeah, I’m in. I’ll get back to you soon. And—” he looked up, sincere now, “thanks for including us.”
Mark lifted his cup again. “Can’t think of anyone else we’d rather be with, brother.”
Another clink. Then engines started, doors closed, and the morning released them back into their separate days—one carrying a secret heavy with promise. That afternoon, Mark brought the mail in with one hand and checked his watch with the other. Kimmy should be back from pickleball any minute. Maybe lunch, he thought. Somewhere easy. He sorted through the stack absently until a large envelope stopped him cold.
COME WITH US — JOIN FELLOW MIAMIANS IN ITALY!
He turned it over, then back again. Lake Como shimmered on the cover. Venice at dusk. A group tour, dates circled in tasteful gold. Mark smiled slowly. Well hello there, he thought. That has anniversary written all over it.
The front door opened moments later. Kimmy stepped in, cheeks flushed from the cool air, bag slung over her shoulder. Her eyes went straight to the counter. “Going down memory lane, were we?” she said, spotting her old journal lying open. She leaned in for a quick peck before heading down the hall. “You getting nostalgic?”
“Maybe,” Mark called after her. “But first—after you shower and change, I’m taking you to lunch.”
She paused. “Is that a question?”
“Nope.”
A soft giggle floated back down the hall.
They slid into a booth at a little place they loved, sunlight catching the edge of the window just right. Kimmy sat close beside him, her white short-sleeve sweater one of his favorites, the delicate necklace resting perfectly at her collarbone. Mark noticed. Of course he did. His eyes followed the line of it up to hers. She smiled, knowingly. “So,” she said, lifting her menu, “what’s the occasion?” Mark leaned back and raised both palms.
She frowned slightly. “What… am I supposed to see something?” He sighed theatrically and raised his hands higher, then tilted his head toward his chest. Kimmy followed his gaze. A navy polo. Mickey Mouse embroidered over his heart. “Oh,” she said. “You broke out one of your Mickey shirts. That’s cute.” She turned back to the menu.
“Noooo,” Mark groaned, lifting his hands even higher. That got her attention. She looked at him again, really looked this time. The posture. The grin he was trying not to show. Oh, she thought. He’s got a plan.
“Baby,” he prompted gently, “come on. What am I thinking about?”
“No,” she said, the smile spreading before she could stop it. “No… are you thinking Disney?”
Mark clapped his hands once and pointed at her with both fingers. “YES.”
Her eyes lit up. “Seriously? You want to go?”
“I spent the morning on the computer,” he said, already launching in. “There’s this Air B&B condo just fifteen minutes away. We’d do one full day at the Magic Kingdom—no rushing, no pressure—and make a long Thanksgiving weekend out of it. We could do this… and that… and—” She leaned over and hugged him mid-sentence, arms tight around his shoulders.
“Yes,” she said into his neck. “To all of it. Yes.”
He laughed, wrapping her in. “So that’s a yes?”
She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes warm and shining. “I love your plans,” she said. I love you, she thought. This man takes me places I never even thought to imagine. Lunch arrived. Steam rose. Plates clinked softly onto the table. Outside, November moved quietly forward—holding its secrets close, letting joy have the moment.
A Whole New World
The drive had barely settled out of their bodies when they stepped into the condo, the door clicking shut behind them like punctuation. The space opened up immediately—clean lines, pale walls, sunlight spilling across tile floors. The bedroom sat just off to the left, calm and inviting, while the living area stretched wide and easy, the kitchen tucked neatly into one corner as if waiting for someone to decide what came next. Mark dropped the bags with a satisfied exhale and wandered toward the sliding glass doors. Beyond them, a small porch overlooked a quiet lake, its surface barely rippling, framed by palms and low shrubs that looked like they’d been placed there deliberately to make people slow down.
“OH wow,” he said softly, almost to himself.
Kimmy slipped her arms around his neck from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Perfect spot for morning coffee, right, honey?” she murmured. He nodded, still looking out, already imagining the quiet mornings and unhurried starts. Then she was gone in a flash of energy. “I’m changing,” her voice sang from down the hall, “then shopping at Disney Springs… YOU PROMISED!” Mark smiled, closed the door behind them—and felt it.
62. Normal. “Okay,” he whispered. “You’re fine.”
He inhaled slowly. Exhaled. Again. The sensation began to loosen its grip, retreating like a wave that had come farther up the shore than expected. Kimmy came bouncing back into the room, already dressed, keys in hand. “Ready, baby—” She stopped cold.
“Oh no,” she thought, her smile vanishing. “Honey… honey, what is it? Are you alright?”
Her eyes filled instantly, fear blooming before he could even speak. Mark took one more steady breath and looked up at her, offering a small, tired smile. “Those damned clots,” he said lightly, though it cost him effort. “They like to make themselves known sometimes.”
“Oh, baby,” she said, crossing the room in two steps. “We don’t have to—”
He stood carefully, meeting her halfway. “Oh no,” he said gently. “A woman has to shop when a woman has to shop.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m good. Just… moving a little slower for a bit.” She wrapped herself around him then, arms tight, her cheek pressed to his chest. Nothing needed saying. Everything had already been said.
Disney Springs met them like a celebration already in progress. Music floated through the air in overlapping rhythms—snippets of pop, jazz, and something unmistakably Disney weaving together into a constant, cheerful hum. The scent of sugar and caramel drifted past, chased by citrusy notes from nearby drinks and the unmistakable richness of chocolate from somewhere they hadn’t even reached yet. People moved in colorful streams, laughter bouncing off brick walkways and reflecting in storefront windows trimmed with lights and garlands. Kimmy’s eyes widened, taking it all in. She squeezed Mark’s hand, her excitement bubbling over into a laugh. “I forgot how alive this place feels,” she said. “It’s like everything is saying, ‘Stay a while.’”
Mark nodded, smiling as he watched her take it in—the colors, the motion, the joy humming just under the surface. “It’s a lot,” he said. “In the best way.” They wandered without urgency. Into a boutique first, fingers brushing soft fabrics, Kimmy holding up a charm bracelet and tilting her head thoughtfully while Mark pretended to study it with great seriousness. Next, a Disney shop bursting with character shirts and polos—Mark pausing at a rack of Mickey designs while Kimmy teased him gently about how many he already owned. Then the Christmas store, where the air smelled faintly of pine and cinnamon, and ornaments glittered under warm lights. Kimmy lifted one carefully, turning it in her hands. “This would look perfect on our tree,” she said softly.
Mark smiled. “Funny how a place can make you think about home.” They finally settled at a waterfront table for a late lunch, the sun catching the water just enough to sparkle. They shared a club sandwich, trading bites, laughing when Kimmy stole the last crisp edge.
“How very magical is the vibe here, honey?” Mark asked.
“It really is,” she replied, leaning back contentedly. “And thank you—for not putting a limit on the spending.” She grinned. “I love to shop.” He chuckled and flagged the waiter. “We’ll take the hot fudge sundae,” he said decisively. “And don’t spare the whipped cream.” Kimmy giggled, eyes shining. As they waited, Mark’s gaze drifted back to the water, thoughtful. Kimmy noticed immediately.
“You okay, baby?” she asked softly. “You’re okay, right?”
He turned back to her, smile easy and real this time. “This is so fun,” he said. “Our own Disney Day.”
Later that night, they sat on the small balcony, Mark in his gray sweats and a Mickey Mouse t-shirt, Kimmy in “the shirt” as they sat close together Their wine glasses in hand—white for him, red for her—they watched as fireworks bloomed in the distance over the Magic Kingdom. Colors burst silently against the dark sky, reflections dancing faintly across the lake below. Kimmy leaned into him, and Mark wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The night held them there, warm and bright and quietly miraculous.
Thanksgiving: Be Our Guest
Mark slipped out quietly just after dawn, the condo still wrapped in that soft, early-morning hush. Kimmy was curled beneath the covers, hair fanned across the pillow, breathing slow and even. He paused for a second at the bedroom doorway, taking her in, then eased the door shut behind him. The Wawa was already awake — fluorescent lights humming, coffee machines gurgling like they were proud of themselves. Mark filled two cups from the familiar dispenser, breathing in that unmistakable smell that always felt like home no matter where he was. He grabbed a couple of breakfast sandwiches, smiled at the cashier, and headed back into the Florida morning. When he set the cups on the counter, his phone buzzed.
“Honey…” Kimmy’s voice was low, still thick with sleep.
“Found a Wawa nearby,” he said softly, smiling. “Got the coffee.”
A pause. Then, quieter. Warmer. “Baby… come back to bed.” He knew that tone. He glanced at the counter, set the coffee down deliberately, and turned back toward the bedroom with a grin.
They finally started the day properly a little while later — coffee in hand, sunlight creeping through the sliding doors. Kimmy moved easily around the kitchen, barefoot, hair pulled back, humming softly as she prepped the turkey like she’d done this a hundred times before. The condo filled slowly with the smells of roasting turkey, butter, herbs, and something sweet baking quietly in the oven. Mark settled onto the sofa, football on, volume low. He wasn’t really watching — more listening to the cadence of the game, the commentators’ voices blending with the clink of pans and the occasional comment from the kitchen.
“How’s it going, Chef?” he called.
“Perfect,” she answered without turning. “You just worry about the game, I won’t burn the place down.”
He smiled, watching her reflection move in the glass of the sliding door. Dinner was simple and flawless. Turkey carved just right. Stuffing rich and comforting. Mashed potatoes smooth and buttery. They sat at the small table, knees brushing, glasses raised.
“To Thanksgiving,” Mark said.
“To us,” Kimmy replied.
They lingered, neither in a hurry, sharing bites, laughing at nothing in particular. Afterward, they carried plates to the sink together, the late game flickering on in the background. They curled up on the sofa, Kimmy tucked into Mark’s side, her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her as the game played on, the world narrowing to the feel of her weight against him and the steady rhythm of the day winding down. Later, they stepped out onto the small porch, each with a glass of wine — white for him, red for her. Mark wore one of his Mickey T-shirts, soft and worn. Kimmy had slipped into the shirt, sleeves long, hem brushing her thighs. She leaned back against him, his arms settling around her automatically.
“So,” Mark said quietly, looking out over the water. “Friday.”
Kimmy smiled. “Okay… tell me the plan.”
“Park opens early,” he began. “We’re there at rope drop. Three big rides first thing. No waiting.” She nodded, already picturing it. “Then lunch,” he continued. “Something fun but quick. Then three more rides. Dinner somewhere nice. Parade. Fireworks.”
She turned in his arms, eyes bright. “That sounds amazing.” He kissed the top of her head. “It is.”
They stood there a moment longer, the night air cool and calm, the glow of Disney faint but unmistakable on the horizon. Eventually, they went back inside, the condo quiet again as they headed to bed. Kimmy reached for his hand as they settled under the covers, fingers lacing with his.
“Happy Thanksgiving, baby,” she murmured.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” he replied.
Oh Happy Day
The car settled into the Donald Duck lot just as the morning light softened the edges of everything. The air already buzzed — not loud yet, but expectant. By 8:30 they were aboard the tram, Kimmy’s head on a swivel, eyes wide, drinking it all in like she was afraid to miss even a second. Mark watched her more than the scenery, the way her smile kept breaking wider as if the park itself were greeting her personally. The monorail glided in with its familiar hum, doors sliding open like an invitation. Kimmy laughed outright as they stepped on, pressing close to the window. “This is unreal,” she said, voice barely containing itself. Mark felt it too — that deep, settled happiness he’d known for years here — but seeing it refracted through her made it brand new again. Tickets scanned. They passed beneath the train station, both slowing instinctively, admiring the vintage posters lining the tunnel — turn-of-the-century colors, bold lettering, promises of wonder. And then they stepped onto Main Street.
They stopped.
Neither spoke at first.
Music drifted from unseen speakers. The smell of popcorn and sugar hung in the air. Balloons bobbed gently above the crowd. At the end of the street, rising impossibly perfect, stood the castle. “Oh wow,” Kimmy breathed, turning slowly, eyes darting left, right, then locking forward. “OOOOOO— the castle!” she squealed, clutching Mark’s arm.
Mark laughed, his own eyes misting before he could stop it. He had loved this place for decades — but somehow, impossibly, she had elevated it. Made it more. A professional photographer approached with a knowing smile. “How about a picture?”
They nodded instantly.
They stood in the center of Main Street, the castle perfectly framed behind them. The photographer snapped a shot then said, “Now one without your sunglasses.” One photo captured them head to toe, hand in hand. Another zoomed in close — their faces bright, open, unmistakably us.
The photographer turned the screen toward them.
Kimmy gasped. “Look at US!” she squealed.
Mark swallowed hard. “It’s… it’s magical,” he managed. “Truly.”
Then, rallying, he grinned. “Let’s go.”
He took her hand, and they moved. Haunted Mansion welcomed them early, the queue nearly empty. The familiar melody swelled as their car glided through shadow and song, ghosts swirling, stretching, grinning. At the end, when the hitchhiking ghost appeared between them, they waved enthusiastically, laughing like kids.
Outside, sunlight again.
“Big Thunder!” Kimmy declared. “Let’s go!” They were there in minutes. The coaster roared overhead. Kimmy watched a train whip past and gave him a look. “Ummm… that’s pretty fast, baby.”
Mark just smiled. They loaded in. The world became wind and motion — four full loops of joy. Mark threw his hands up, shouting “YEEESSS!” while Kimmy clutched him, screaming and laughing at the same time. She tried to smooth her hair as they exited. “Okay,” she said breathlessly, “what’s next?”
“One more before the crowds,” Mark said. “Trust me.”
Country Bears Jamboree. Front row. They clapped, sang along, laughed louder than necessary — and when they emerged back into daylight Mark threw his arms wide. “THIS,” he cried, “is awesome.” Kimmy checked her watch. “Isn’t it about lunch time?”
Mark glanced down. “Perfect timing. We beat the crowd.” Main Street again, into the Palace Ice Cream Parlor. A modest line, anticipation building. They recounted every ride, voices overlapping, excitement still crackling. They split a cheeseburger and fries — and then a massive hot fudge sundae.
“Doesn’t get any better than this, right?” Mark asked.
Kimmy laughed. “Hold still, baby. You’ve got chocolate all over your face.”
She wiped it away and leaned in, kissing him. “Magical for sure. Okay — what’s next?”
Tomorrowland, at an easy pace. Carousel of Progress. They walked out humming, both smiling. Mark pulled her close. “What?” Kimmy giggled.
“This really is,” he said softly, “the best time of our life.” He kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him, rose to her toes, and kissed him back — slower, deeper. When she pulled away, her smile said everything.
Jungle Cruise came next — every bad dad joke met with genuine belly laughs. By the end Kimmy checked her watch.
“What time were the Liberty Tree reservations?”
Mark frowned at his phone. “5:30… oh. It’s already five.”
“Another ride?” she asked.
She paused, then smiled softly. “I could use a short break.”
Mark took her hand. “I just want to be here. With you.”
Dinner was perfect — Yankee Pot Roast for him, chicken for her. They lingered, content. Afterward, strolling Main Street, Kimmy browsed jewelry when something plopped onto her head. She spun. “What the—”
Mark beamed. “Perfect.” In the mirror: ears. Her ears. “Ohhh! I’ve always wanted my own ears!” she squealed. He paid without hesitation.
They took seats on the curb, waited for the parade, watched it glide by in color and music. Fireworks followed. Kimmy stood in front of Mark, his arms wrapped around her, her head resting back against his chest.
When Can You Feel the Love Tonight filled the air, he squeezed her tighter. She thought, Now this… this is the Disney day I dreamed of. The ferry ride back was quiet and cool, breeze tugging at her ears. She held them in place, leaning into him.
“Good day?” he asked. She pulled him close and kissed his cheek. “The best.”
Later, in bed, Mark scrolled through photos, smiling wider with each one. Kimmy crawled in beside him wearing the shirt, tucked herself closer, and whispered:
“Know what, honey?”
“What, baby?”
“I love our life. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second.”
He pulled her close. An image floated through his mind — the two of them with Cinderella, the song echoing softly.
So this is love…
He leaned in. “Baby, they couldn’t make a Disney movie this good.”
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