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“He’s still out.”
She walks me to the door, gesturing for me to go. I follow her to their master where my father lays peacefully. She walks to the side of their bed and places his hand in hers. The sting of sadness hits the back of my eyes. Watching how she cares for him, even though he is gone, has me fighting for a deep breath.
“Was there ever a time you hated him?” I watch her run her hand back and forth over his.
She pats the seat next to her. “Of course. But I have never stopped loving him.” She places her hand over the top of his while his palm lays on her other. “When I found out about the contract, I wanted to murder him. When I found out who the contract was with, I almost did.” She leans forward and kisses the back of his hand. “I made him promise me he would fix it, find a way out. There was no way my baby girl was going to survive at the hand of that man.”
“He is Demetri’s brother.”
“He is. It was the only way to break the contract. You had to marry someone with the same blood.”
“You’ve met him?”
“He came to the house a few times. The man gave me chills. Behind his handsome looks is pure evil. I told your father so. They had some business dealings. There was a middleman causing issues. Your brother warned your father. Cillian wanted him dead, but he couldn’t do anything until he found out who the broker was. Blood money exchanged hands, as it always does in their business, but something was different about this transaction. And with your father declining, things for Cillian became tougher to navigate.” She tenderly runs her fingers over the back of his hand. “You are in love with him.”
“I am.”
“He looks at you the same. You may not have found each other naturally but that doesn’t matter. You will be okay, Haven.”
“How did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Raise a child that wasn’t yours?”
“She was innocent. Your father wasn’t.”
“Do you regret marrying Da?”
“I regret nothing, my dear. Nothing. Your father and I had some hiccups, but I would never change a thing. I love this man.” Her tears start to flow. “And I will miss him every single day until I join him.”
Silent moments pass with grief weighing heavy in the air.
“Mom, will you be okay if I excuse myself?”
“Go on, sweet girl. Your studio is calling you.”
The energy chargedmusic plays softly. A song so fitting in the moment.All I Feel Is Youby The Broken View moves with me across the floor. A far cry from the decimal level I would normally dance to. It seems wrong to twirl around when my father’s life has just been lost. But dancing has always been my outlet. Even when I used to stand on the tops of my father’s feet as a toddler. It brought me happiness. I’ll deal with my pain in the only way I’ve known how.
Demetri has become my newest source of grounding. When I am in his arms, under his direction, I experience a stillness inside. It’s a calm I’ve only felt when my feet are gliding across the floor. It’s been there the whole time with Demetri. Right from the beginning when he first drew me in. Even when times were uncertain between us, it was still there. Playing this song makes me feel as though he has his protective arms around me as I move.
Soaring into the air and landing with a move that is not as delicate as it should be has me frustrated. I leap from the floor and reposition, waiting for the count to begin again. It’s been so long since I have been in my studio that home doesn’t feel so much like home anymore. Sadness has my nimble body stiff. Grief has my carefree movements from weeks ago gone. Every mirror surrounding the room shows every angle of my inconsistencies.
It’s a reflection of failure.
I tumble to the floor, sweating a blanket of sloppy work from my underworked body. I jump up in haste, upset with myself. Wishing Demetri were here to hold me. To cheer me on. To just be here. With me.
I lay flat on my back in my sweat-soaked leotard. The thin pale pink shoulder strap askew. My chest and stomach rise and fall with each exhausting breath I take. I stare at the lackluster ceiling tile, internally chastising myself. With a deep breath and a shove off the floor, I rise to the tips of my sore toes and get into position once again. I inhale on count one and exhale on seven. On count eight, I push off and put every bit of energy I have left into my movements, only to fall flat on my face from emotional and physical exhaustion. With my knees pressed into the wood floor, my back hunched in a gut-wrenching arch, and my forehead resting on my arms, I break. The howl of grief I release sounds like an injured animal. It’s all too much. The past few months have been more than I can handle. And now, the life I once knew, is gone.
A memory.
I will no longer live in my home with my parents, brother, and cousin. The pillar of our home is now absent. My father has become a memory we will share with each other. My bodyguard,myfriend, a pillar of our security,mysecurity in and outside of the walls of our home is dead. Murdered viciously by my husband who I have fallen madly in love with. It’s all just too much. I rock back and forth, hoping the pain I’m experiencing, the grief that has me shaking on the floor, dulls.
Black leather captures my blurry vision as I rock forward. I still, my hair brushing over the tips of his expensive dress shoes. My gut-wrenching cries become whimpers as I slowly raise my teary gaze to meet my husband’s. My chin quivers as he holds me prisoner with just a look.
“Sir.” One word said so quietly with awe.
He’s silent, menacing almost with his stern features. Moments pass as we wordlessly speak to each other.
