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At that, Sophia motions for the staff to open the French doors to the cool December night just as our first guests make their way up the back stairwell from the horse-drawn carriages. The sight reminds me of the night Ariana and I met. She crashed into my life like a bull. To say I wasn’t ready for her would be an understatement. But tonight, I am ready, ready to claim her, to love her, to pledge my life to her. I only hope she gives me the chance.
* * *
After breakingfree from another incessant conversation about my sudden year-long absence, I glance at my watch. We’re an hour and a half into the party and there’s still no sign of Ariana. Whatever hope and excitement I had coming into this evening has officially vanished. As I make my way toward the exit, I grab a bourbon from a passing server. By the time I’ve made it to the concrete stairwell leading down to the quiet gardens, I’ve finished my drink and long for another. Alas, that would require returning to the party with far too little food and far too many guests. All of New Orleans high society must be in attendance, all except for the one woman I hoped to see. Resolved in my retreat, I abandon my empty glass and continue down the steps until I reach the last one, where I take a seat to wallow in my sorrow.
I should’ve come back sooner. I just…I wanted everything to be perfect for her, for us. I wanted Laroux House fortified, our army in place, and all my business dealings handled so that the moment I saw her, it could just be the two of us. I could lose myself in her warm eyes, in her gentle touch without a worry for tomorrow or even next month or next year. I want that time with her. But what if all I did was rob us of that time? What if I truly did lose her?
I shake my head. Even now, I lie to myself. I tell myself I stayed away for so long because I wanted to make a perfect life for us, but the truth is,Iwanted to be perfect.
While I’ve made progress with my grief, I wanted to find a way to let go of my insecurities and my feelings of inadequacy. Just because I’ve relinquished my throne and walked away from my life of crime doesn’t mean I carry any fewer sins. I am a murderer, a monster. My soul is still stained with the blood of others. My mind is still riddled with the screams and cries of the men I’ve tortured. It’s because of this that I’ve never felt worthy of Ariana’s love. I thought I could find a way to heal that wound, to forgive myself, to believe myself a man worthy of her heart. But that is a wound only she can heal. Only she can make me feel worthy, and yet, her absence tonight only reaffirms that I’m not. She was never mine to love, only mine to—
The soft click of a horse’s hooves against the gravel draws my attention to my right. The path through the shady gardens upon which the guests arrive is dark, lit only at the end by two antique streetlamps. I stand and move toward them as the clicking, no, galloping grows louder. As I move, my eyes widen in anticipation and my heartbeat quickens in my chest. Could it really be her? Please, please let it be her. Through the darkness, a horse and its open-air carriage emerge. I can’t see who the passenger is. Still, the sight of it makes my legs go numb with nerves.Come on. Come on.As the horse reaches the end of the path, the driver hops from his post, revealing the most beautiful raven-haired woman who has ever existed, my love, Ariana.
Unable to be apart from her a moment more, I push through the prickly sensation in my legs and run to her. “Allow me,” I say, sending the driver on his way. As Ariana’s warm eyes meet mine, her pink-painted lips draw up into a smile that tugs on every part of my soul letting me know I am finally home. Unable to speak, I offer her my hand. As she takes it, her simple touch is too irresistible. I need more. I need her.Now.I move both my hands to her waist and pull her from the carriage in one fell swoop. She squeals at my touch. It’s the cutest sound. As I lower her to the ground, she grabs hold of my arms to help with her balance. But she needn’t worry. I never plan to let her go again.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” I say, moving my hands from her hips to her lower back, pulling her tighter against me. She parts her lips in response, giving in to my touch. Yet as she lifts her eyes to meet mine, it isn’t submission I find in them, rather fire.
“You made me wait for you an entire year. The least you can do is wait an hour or two for me.” At that, I laugh. In her presence, it comes so easily to me, everything does because Ariana doesn’t just represent love or even hope to me. She represents freedom. Sheismy freedom, my lifeline. Yet, she will also be my keeper just as I will be hers. She will remind me of the best parts of me while loving my ugly. And I will protect her from all who would do her harm and love her enough to chase away any fear of abandonment, any taste of loneliness. She will never know such pain again.
“I’m going to have my hands full with you, aren’t I?” I ask.
“Did you expect anything less?”
