Until now, Valentines Day was just another day. But not anymore ...it actually meant something. It was a day for celebrating your love with that one person you were going to spend the rest of your life with. Showing them off to he world. And that's what he did. Jake spoilt me.
I was rushing around making sure everything was perfect. I had got Jake a mini canvas and a mug filled with the love heart sweets that each had their own messages. I thought it was perfect. There was one problem though. Jake doesn't like sweets. It was only a few months ago that he told me that it was actually Jordi that ate the mug full of sweets. I was mortified. How did I not know that he didn't like them. I hadn't even considered them as 'sweets'. Now not only did Jake not get the sweets I'd got but he couldn't use the mug ...it was contaminated. I am such an awful girlfriend.
Needles to say, Jake's plans for Valentines Day were much better. He had originally told me that he hadn't got me anything because he couldn't afford it and that he felt terrible. I was half expecting him to turn up with something anyway but he was true to his word and hadn't got me anything. When we got to his, I was greeting with the sound of music. I could hear Celine Dion, 'My heart will go on' playing in the background. Titanic was our favourite film so I guess this had become "our song". As I walked upstairs to try and find where it was coming from Jake put his hands over my eyes and walked me into his bedroom. It was gorgeous. He had laid rose petals on the floor, making a love heart with my initials in the middle (later I discovered that Jordi had helped with that bit as Jake's attempt was terrible, but it's the thought that counts). On his bed sat a huge me to you bear, a box and a massive bunch of roses (minus the one that was scattered on the floor of course). As I looked closer I noticed that around the teddy's neck was a piece of ribbon acting as a necklace with a pandora charm threaded through. I was over the moon. It was perfect.
No comments:
Post a Comment