He leans to kiss me again before revving up the engine. I turn my head to the window and spear my roommate with a look. “You. Nice work. I didn’t suspect a thing.”

“Save your thank-yous for when you open your suitcase.” Nora laughs as she skips back to our apartment.

What’s in the suitcase? Now I’m curious.

Dom and I hit the road. He tells me he’s made a playlist for the drive. He hooks his USB into his stereo and plays Nickelback and Dave Matthews Band throwbacks. It’s not my jam, but I don’t tell him that, since he’s made such an effort to surprise me with this romantic weekend. Throughout the drive, our hands are rested on the center console, our fingers laced together. Sometimes he sings the lyrics to the songs. Sometimes we talk about his work or mine, or how awesome Nora is for going along with his plan. Apparently, he slid into her DMs on Instagram a week ago and asked for her help.

I’ve never been out on the Cape. I’ve never been anywhere. Actually, I hadn’t been anywhere. Dominic is changing that, quickly. This couple-retreat experience feels so mature. Especially when, two and a half hours later, he pulls up at a charming bed-and-breakfast. It’s a white Cape Cod colonial with black shingles and overflowing flowerpots. It is beautifully restored and offers an outdoor restaurant in a gazebo overlooking the ocean. I grab Dom’s hand and squeeze.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

“That I’m so going to put out tonight.” I’m only half joking.

He laughs, then gets out and pulls out our bags. He gives the valet the keys to his car. Then he opens the door for me, bowing chivalrously. “Wait till you eat the scones here. This is the OG Mrs. G’s favorite spot.”

“Mrs. G?”

“Mrs. Graves. Mom. Gemma. My parents used to take us here for a traditional summer holiday, every year without fail. Well, save for one or two, you know.”

When he was sick.

I feel even more overjoyed when we walk inside and the innkeeper, a woman named Dana, shows us to our room. Dom and I follow her, holding hands. I’m pretty sure I’m grinning like an idiot when I notice how she looks at us. With quiet approval. He tells her he’s been here many times, and she shares that this is her first year running the place. Before she leaves, she hands us a brochure. Dom takes it and promises to try at least two of the things she suggests we do. He pushes the door open. The room is small but gorgeous. With crown moldings, oriental carpets, and nautical art. The balcony overlooks a golf course.