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So, I did.
I gradually pushed the heavy wooden door open the rest of the way, cautiously stepping inside. Careful not to make any noises, any sudden movements, any disturbance that could cause … I don’t know what.
The room was dead silent, not even the sound of a clock ticking to break the stillness in the air.
Nothing.
Even Danté stopped singing, overwhelmed with the unexpected turn of events like I was.
I paid him no mind as he went around the room doing a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree twirl with his mouth wide open. I was on a completely different mission with a one-track mind to find out where Dr. and Mrs. Pierce were.
Who they were.
And if they’d be coming back to the family who still needed them.
In that moment, I thought about a million and one things, picturing a life through their eyes. Sensing their presence in every inch and corner of the extravagant space only added to the ramblings in my mind.
If I thought the house was exquisite before, nothing compared to the luxury this suite held.
It was breathtaking.
Picture-perfect.
A room where dreams were made of.
From the huge king-sized mattress that was in between a gray wooden, massive four-poster bed, centered on the far wall. To the colossal posts with intricate carved designs each appeared to have that I ran my fingers over. To the four vast beams towering up toward the vaulted ceiling, connecting above into a square. Draped with white, sheer curtains that fell to the floor near the head of the bed.
The sheets appeared as if they hadn’t been slept on in months. Not to mention the room was spotless. Nothing was out of place, not a piece of clothing, or a hairbrush. Not even one of the kids’ toys.
My fingers skimmed the bedding, continuing my descent. I put one foot in front of the other, walking over to the vanity in the adjacent corner. Captivated by the elegant perfume bottles in a perfect line, I brought the one that read Sunflower up to my nose, breathing in the flowery scent until Journey broke the silence.
“Gah! Gah, gah, gah!”
“Is that right, Little Miss? You smell your momma?”
She kicked her chubby little legs in excitement answering my question.
“Where is she?” I whispered to myself, placing the bottle back down.
I couldn’t help but wander toward her walk-in closet. Which was just as immaculate as everything else. All her clothes were lined up perfectly in order, all color coordinated by style and design.
Hundreds of dresses...
Multiple racks of skirts, shirts, and shoes…
The tips of my fingers ran along the soft fabrics, wanting to see what they felt like. The expensive pieces were as inviting as anything else in the room.
I don’t know what got into me, but I had to see his closet next. Except, when I slid open the door, I thought I’d find the same setup as hers.
I didn’t.
His closet had very little clothing. It was empty compared to hers. I tried to ignore the masculine scent that still lingered on his casual garments hanging on suede hangers.
A few t-shirts…
Some jeans…
A pair of sneakers here and there.
