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He’s at the kitchen table you see, just trying to drink a nice steaming cup of coffee. Lucy’s back in their bedroom, touching up on some makeup before Fred and Ethel arrive so the four of them can go to dinner and a movie.
It’s been a relatively quiet day. With it being his day off, Ricky’s been able to sit and relax, enjoying the presence of his wife, even pretending he didn’t see her hastily stuffing a bill - no doubt from Macy’s or some other boutique she and Ethel shopped at - into her pocket and smiling nervously.
But then he hears it.
“Oh, Ricky!” Lucy wails. It’s distressed and echoes throughout the apartment and Ricky flinches, coffee dribbling down his pristine white shirt. It doesn’t matter anyhow, not when his wife sounds so upset. Ricky jumps to his feet, nearly tripping over them in the process. The sting of the spilled coffee hardly registers, all he can think of is Lucy.
“Lucy?” He shouts and she doesn’t respond. “Lucy, honey, what’s the matter?”
He rushes back there, bracing himself for the worst, taken aback at the sight of his wife laying face down on her side of the bed. She’s sobbing her heart out, and all he can do is stare.
“Lucy...” Ricky sits on the edge of the bed, his hand coming to rest on her back. “What happened? Why are you crying?”
“Oh, Ricky!” She lifts her head, revealing red-rimmed eyes and a bright red nose. “It’s horrible. Just horrible!”
“What? What is it?” Ricky says, concerned.
He doesn't understand what’s gotten her so upset. But there’s this natural instinct anyway, wanting to fix it at once.
Her face crumples up and the words come out near unintelligible. “I found a gray hair!”
Ricky opens his mouth then shuts it, brows furrowed. It’s not what he expected to hear. “What?”
“I found a gray hair!” Lucy cries. She sits up straighter, sniffling. “I was doing my hair - you know the way Ruth had hers done, not Helen, hers was just awful-”
“Yes, dear, I remember,” he cuts her off, sounding remarkably patient. It’s a skill he’s had to master. “Now, what do you mean you found a gray hair?”
“Oh, right,” Lucy takes a breath, “Well, I was fixing it and I saw something up here-” She points to a spot on her head that looks no different than the rest, starting to get herself worked up, the tears filling her eyes again, “And I thought it was just a trick of the light but it wasn’t. I’m getting old, Ricky!”
Ricky has to resist the urge to grin. He can it building - the laughter in his chest - and he knows if he lets it out, Lucy will only cry harder. He schools his expression into something more tender and it’s not as if he doesn’t mean it. He hates to see his darling Lucy cry. “Honey,” a few chuckles slip past anyway as he leans in closer to kiss her cheek softly. “You’re not getting old.”
“Yes, I am!” She shoves him back, standing to her feet. There’s this look on her, somehow offended that he hasn’t agreed with her. “I’m getting old and you’re going to find some other woman and I’m going to be all alone!”
She bursts into more tears.
“What? That’s preposterous! Where did you get an idea like that?”
Lucy falters momentarily, but then crosses her arms and sharply turns. “It’s true. I’ll just shrivel up and you won’t love me anymore!”
There’s an undercurrent of fear to her, and it instantly evaporates any amusement towards the situation. As much as he likes to poke fun to get a rise out of her, which is easy to do, Ricky understands that she’s sensitive about that sort of thing. And it hurts him a little, he has to admit, that she’s worrying he’ll ever want anyone other than her.
“Oh, Sweetheart,” Ricky wraps his arms around her from behind, his chin on her shoulder. She’s tense, not letting herself loosen up and relax just yet. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Yeah?” She says with hesitancy that they both hear.
“Of course,” he says, voice filled with warmth. “I love you. I’ll always love you, honey. You’re beautiful.”
It doesn’t work as planned. Lucy doesn’t believe him.
“No, I’m not,” she says stubbornly. “I’m going gray and I’ll look like one of those horribly old ladies that feed stray cats.”
“Lucy,” Ricky murmurs in between soft kisses on her neck. “Come now; even if you were going gray, you’d still be the most beautiful woman in the world. I don’t care what you look like.”
“You should,” Lucy whispers, voice filled with shame. “How can you stand knowing you have an old woman for a wife?”
“Well, I’ve gotten used to it.”
Lucy whirls around, knocking herself out of his grasp and Ricky laughs loudly. “Oh, Ricky.”
“I’m just kidding, dear,” he says soothingly. She scowls, a pout on her lips. “Now come on, would you care if I had gray hair?”
She pauses, and seems to ponder what he's asking. “Well, no...”
Ricky smiles. He kissed her temple. “Exactly.”
“But that's different,” Lucy insists.
“No it isn't,” he says firmly. He's not going to entertain this nonsense any longer. “Estás loco. Now you listen to me, I don’t care if you lost all your color or not. There’s nothing that could make me love you any less, you understand?”
“Yes,” she mumbles. He’s aware she doesn’t quite believe him yet but she’s not arguing at least.
“Good.” Ricky brushes his thumb over her cheek, staring into those mesmerizing blue eyes that have had a hold on him since the day they met.
She chews on her lips, shifts her gaze. “And you...you really mean it?”
He doesn’t answer her verbally, but gently takes her by the chin to draw her in for a sweet kiss. It starts out slow then gradually grows. They move in a rhythm and from there, it deepens. Ricky feels it coming from her - the passion, the desire, the want. Her hands are roaming and gliding through his hair and he grips her waist.
When they have to part, when their lungs burn for air and their cheeks feel warm, Ricky feels a grin take over. It’s wide and smug and despite it being years since they met, he can still get her all flustered.
“Now do you believe me?” He says, breathless.
Lucy, with dilated eyes and a glazed over look, just nods.
“Uh huh.”
The smile turns more tender. Ricky holds her by the waist again, just with one arm wrapped around, his forehead against hers.
“I mean it. There’s no one else I’d rather be with.”
“Even if I look old?” She says, still with a hint of insecurity.
Ricky reaches up to take some of her hair and pulls it behind her ear. He hears the slight intake of breath when his finger trails over her skin.
“Even then.”