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The air around us is mixed with the scent of honey and magnolia from the bubble bath foams, and the remnants of our previous lovemaking.
The reflection of us on the floor to ceiling gold-foil trimmed mirror reminds me of one of those classic Hollywood pictures of cool looking lovers.
I’m a black-haired Marilyn Monroe and he’s a heavily tattooed Al Pacino. We look as forbidden as the devil taking holy communion, but, for some reason the Universe has decided that we fit. We work. We look like we belong together.
Dare I say it. I look content and happy, and I am.
My father is back in five days’ time and I’m not even allowing that to get to me.
The time has gone so quickly. I’m like this now, but I know the freak out is a breath away.
There'll be much I'll have to face when he returns. For now I’ll continue to savor every second with Dante.
He takes a drag of his cigar and blows out a ring of smoke slowly. I watch them rise into the mist we've created, then I glance back at him.
He sets the cigar down on the ashtray, bends his head to plant a kiss on my shoulder and rubs my back.
There's a faraway look in his eye. It makes me wonder if he's worrying about things too. Sometimes he goes really quiet and I can't quite tell what he's thinking in those moments, then I'm left to make assumptions. Like right now.
Of course he knows what’s going on with me in regard to Dad and my upcoming engagement to Matthew, but I don’t believe this guy would waste his time worrying about me like that when he could have any woman he wants.
This thing we have is just…
Well. As new and fresh as it is, I know what it is to me and I respect whatever it is to him.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. I'm just thinking.”
“What are you thinking about Printcessa?”
I glance away and run a lazy finger down his chest, along the eagle tattoo.
“Maybe I shouldn't tell you those things. I wouldn’t want to scare you away.” I meet his curious stare with my own.
He smiles. “Why don't you try me? I don't think you could tell me anything that would scare me away.”
“Really?”
“Yes, baby. Tell me what's up. What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
As I’m living in the moment and not wasting a second of it, I decide to take him up on his offer.
“Okay. I'm happy.” I grin up at him.
He smiles a little wider and narrows his stare. “That's good.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“I love that you’re happy but that’s what you were seriously thinking about?” He quirks a hard brow.
“Yes. But there's more to it than that.”
“Do tell.”
“There was a time when I wasn't sure that I could ever be happy again. It was like I was permanently wearing a mask, smiling because I had to, so people I care about wouldn’t worry about me.” At the serious note in my voice the humor fades from his expression. “You must have read about my accident and what happened to my friend.”
He knows everything else so I assumed he would have.
