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“Goodbye.”
Then we are alone in the room. I don’t move. I want to rush over to her and wrap her in my arms. I want to swing her around and laugh and tell her I am so happy for her. But I don’t move and neither does she.
“Dinner is going to be ready in twenty minutes,” I tell her. “You can get ready and then please meet me in the greenhouse.”
She nods once.
I sigh deeply and turn to leave.
The greenhouse is one of my favorite rooms in the house. The tall glass walls are filled with intricate stained-glass designs. The images tell the stories of old wars between angels and devils, the bright colors of the glass filtering the sun and splashing rainbows across the stone floor. The ornate window frames add to the charm and mystery of the space. A beautiful spiral staircase in the center wall at the back of the greenhouse takes you to a second level where you can overlook the tropical jungle floor, designed by a world-famous botanist.
Tonight I have asked my staff to serve our dinner on this balcony, overlooking the lush green landscape and trailing vines that run down the glass walls. The second level has been decorated with candles and soft lighting creating a romantic mood. Even though everything around me is tranquil and alluring, my mind does not feel the same. I feel agitated and frustrated—could I even say fearful? I could. I fear losing her. I am worried about what happens next. How I choose to handle the next step will be of the utmost importance.
All I know is that I don’t want her to leave. I want her by my side. It is so difficult to imagine her being gone, even though she never speaks to me, even though we don’t touch—even though it drives me absolutely crazy being so close to her every day. She makes everything so difficult, she fights me on everything, she is defiant and cold towards me.
But I want her near me.
Always.
Jennifer walks through the high glass doors leading into the greenhouse. She is wearing a long dress with thin straps that shows off her slender shoulders. It falls down her back, over her curving hips, and flows around her legs like liquid. The pale blue compliments her light hair and complexion.
I can’t stop staring at her as she looks around the room, trying to find me.
“Little rabbit, I’m up here.” She glances up and sees me standing on the ledge of the upper level, looking down at her, tracing her every move.
I wish I could explain to her what I see when I look at her—the surges of emotion that plunge me into another world, a world of her and only her. Where everything is beautiful and filled with possibility. Where my heart beats faster and wilder in my chest.
She walks up the metal staircase and stands beside me with her hand resting on the railing. Her delicate fingers brush over the metal vines decorating it.
“You look absolutely stunning, little rabbit. That dress, the color, the way it—” The way it falls across your body makes me wild with lust. I cannot say that to her. “You look incredible.”
I step closer to her, and she turns her head to the side.
I can feel the heat from her body, and it takes everything in me not to reach out and touch her. I want to let my hands run over the silky fabric, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath.
Still, she does not look at me.
I place my hand on her lower back, turning her towards the dinner table. “I hope you’re hungry.”
Her hips sway and as my hand remains on her back she does not push me away and for a moment I dare to feel hope. She reaches out to pull her chair back and I grab her wrist. “Allow me, little rabbit.”
She pulls the corner of her mouth tight but sits down. I push her chair in behind her.
I pull my own chair closer to hers and take a seat with my leg pressing against hers beneath the table.
Picking up the champagne bottle I smile and say, “It would appear that we have reason to celebrate tonight.”
I pop the cork gently, romantically, then tilt her glass in my hand and pour the bubbling, gold liquid into it. She watches every move.
I pour my own glass and smile. She has not taken her eyes off me.
I hold my glass up towards her. She picks her own up and does the same. Her eyes are locked on mine.
“Little rabbit, you have been through so much. Tonight we celebrate how strong you are, how brave and determined you were to get better, and how much you had to endure. I just want you to know that I am so proud of you. I watched you push past your comfort levels and fight every day to find your strength again. You showed resilience and power that anyone who witnessed would be in awe of. Honestly, I am proud of you. I am incredibly happy that the doctor has declared you healed and healthy.”
I tip the edge of my glass towards her; she touches the lip of hers to mine and a soft chime echoes through the air.
We each take a sip of champagne, her eyes still locked with mine. My heart thunders in my chest.
