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She stared at the hourglass. “Maybe it is.”
I turned to leave when her voice halted me once more.
“Do you love my daughter, Zeno?”
Love.
A word I never associated romantically to any living soul.
But now when I heard it?
I saw my wife walking down the aisle, her eyes beseeching me through her pearl-embellished veil. I saw my wife spinning around in the conservatory room, her soft wonder causing my walls to break. I saw my wife running to me through the fire and smoke, her arms encasing me and destroying the last shred of loneliness resting in my soul.
My mind painted the word love and all I saw was my wife.
I was supposed to meet Don downtown to work on our joint venture, but I canceled my plans and rushed back home, driven by the inexplicable need to see Darla midday.
Her green Lamborghini was in the driveway, so I knew she was home. I parked next to her. The armed guards watched me curiously as I straight-lined it for the gardens. Darla mentioned wanting to take her breakfasts and lunches outside now that the weather was warm.
The soft floral scent of new blooms fringed the property. I passed the maze and walked down a cobblestone pathway, canopied by magnolia trees and white roses. It led to a large clearing with a manicured grassy patch and circular marble fountain.
Mon angesat along the edge of the fountain, eyes closed, a gentle smile on her lips, and face tilted skyward. She soaked in the early May afternoon sun while soft piano keys fluttered through the open French doors of the manoir. A light breeze rustled the hem of her pink dress and the strands of her black hair. Flower petals danced in the air, giving her the allure of a celestial being in repose.
The ethereal sight called to me and I advanced closer to my other half.
There would never be a more stunning woman to grace this earth.
My Persephone.
My little angel.
My Darla.
Her beauty was boundless like a classic melody. But it was her soft, fiery heart that had a hold on me. It incited my own to beat fast in the cadence of the four-letter word. For the first time in my life, I experienced the emotion and it tilted my world in a way where I would never be the same again.
I was in love with my wife.
Darla Ivy Hill stormed into my life and shattered my defenses with a sledgehammer. She cracked my armour until every fissure bled with my salvation and her lightness irradiated fractions of my darkness. Her name was forevermore sketched in the lines of my heart like a mesmerizing ode.
Now I was hers in every sense of the word.
Owned completely and undeniably by Darla.
The intangible pull drew me closer and she sensed my presence. Her eyes remained shut, but the smile on her mouth tipped a scantle. I leaned down to kiss her, silently saying that I belonged to her. “You are a sight for sore eyes,dolcezza.”
“And you, for mine.” Her hands cradled my jaw like I were a delicate piece of art. “Where have you been,mon amour?”
Trying to find youmy whole life.
Waterfalling butterfly-soft kisses against the underside of her jaw, I inhaled her gardenia scent. “Missed me?”
“I always miss you.”
My chest twisted. “I always miss you too.”
Her brown gaze collided with mine, soft like the earth after a rainstorm. “How was your day?”
“Busy.” I was purposely vague with my response. “What have you been up to?”
