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He’d been in France for two weeks. Based on his text, he landed in Montardor this morning and still had a lot of business to wrap up. He promised to call me later.
After having dinner with my family, we played an hour of monopoly while a comedy movie ran in the background. It was a relaxed evening and I’d really enjoyed the last three weeks bonding with Dacia, Alberto, and Mother. I loved how our relationship was slowly mending.
Now I sat in my room with the glow of a lamp cast over my work desk, reading through the letters my father wrote to me when I was in my mother’s womb. His musings made me smile. I definitely inherited my love for words and languages from him.
May 8, 1996
Dear little one,
Thereis nothing like the heat of the sun and thesmell of fresh flowers in the air to slowly welcomethe summer months. It has always been my favourite seasonand more so now with your arrival in August. Yourmother begged me to take her to Aimée Island tocelebrate her birthday and here we are for the week, overindulging in fruits and desserts—my wife has an affinityfor crème brûlées—as it is my duty to fulfillall her heart’s desires. It is nothing short ofwhat I promised her on our wedding day.
What myDésirée wants, my Désirée gets.
I have no doubt you’ll soon have me wrapped around your fingers too. Désiréeand I made a bet; she was certain you’dbe a boy while I wished for a girl. Itseems I won and all my prayers have been answered.
I teased your mother that you’re going to looklike me and have my personality.
But secretly, I wantyou to look like her. I want you to haveher limitless beauty, her fiery warmth, and her remarkable abilityto make everyone she meets feel like the most importantperson in the world.
We took a boat ride thisafternoon and gazed at the blue sky. Well, Désirée gazedat the sky, but I mostly gazed at her. Shedoesn’t agree with me, but I like to thinkthat the eighth wonder is right here, in my veryarms.
And it was in that moment of serenity, withthe wind breezing past our fingers, that it finally cameto us.
Your name.
Darla.
Our most beloved.
Our sweetestlittle darling on Earth.
Our very own ninth wonder.
Wecannot wait to meet and fall in love with you, Darla.
Love,
Apollo
It was a bittersweet sensation to read about a love that never saw its fruition. I hoped that heaven existed so I could meet these two wonderful beings when our time here was done.
My father’s letters inspired me to start a tradition and write to my own baby.
I was in the midst of penning my first when my cell phone rang. Zeno’s name lit the screen just as a strike of lightning illuminated my room, followed by the clap of thunder.
I jolted, so engrossed in my task that I failed to see the crashing rain outside.
“H-Hello?” I picked up the phone and dove for my bed, hiding under the covers. Trembling when another clap of thunder shook the windows. “Zeno?”
“I’m right here.” That smooth, velvety voice stroked over my goosebump-pebbled skin like a soothing balm. “Take a deep breath for me.”
My exhale puffed into the mouthpiece as the lamp in my room flickered. “You called.”
“You don’t like thunderstorms, Darla,” he murmured. “Since a phone call is all I’m permitted nowadays, I’ll use any means to make sure you’re okay.”
I missyou so much. “How was France?”
“Boring.” Dark amusement laced his tone. “Played croquet in the backyard. Sipped some cherry martinis. Ate my weight in gelato. Went to a few strip clubs. Really lived the bachelor lifestyle, you know?”
