“I feel…found.”
His eyes widen curiously, “Found?”
I nod, “Yes,” I snuggle back up into his chest and take a deep, purifying inhalation, taking in the scent that I have only just realized that I have missed, “Found.”
His arms tighten around me, pulling me in closer to his amazing body.
“You didn’t tell me your fortune.”
I yawn. “If you’re afraid to shake the dice, you will never throw a six.”
I hear the curl of Hayden’s mouth. He kisses my hair and says against my scalp, “Happy Birthday, Samantha.”
“Thank you,” I reply sleepily, and in the protective arms of my lover––the man who has sought, found, and rescued me more times than I can count––I slip into a deep and tranquil sleep.
The next morning, I am awoken by a freshly showered, delicious looking Hayden with the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt undone and tucked neatly into his black suit pants. The silver metal of his buckle gleams in the light, along with his chain.
He’s leaning against the doorway of the bedroom with his hands wrapped around a mug, and ‘the cat that ate the canary’ smile.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”
“Good morning.” I stretch out in the enormous bed and glance at the clock. 8:50 a.m.
“Oh, my God, Hayden, we’re late for work.” I push myself up and kick the comforter back. Hayden strolls into the room looking all sexy and charismatic. Memories from last night come flooding back and hit the same emotional pinnacle that had me wailing with my orgasm.
“There’s no rush, I have already let Chloe and Victor know that we will be in a little later this morning.” The mattress dips under his weight. “I come baring caffeine,” he teases, and hands me the steaming, black ceramic.
Leaning into him, he brushes the side of my face with the back of his knuckles, before snaring my chin between his thumb and middle finger. He tips my head back gently, allowing our lips to meld together.
“Thank you,” I utter against his mouth, before taking a welcoming sip. “Why are we going in late?” I push my hair back and grasp the nape of my neck.
He tapers his eyes and pouts his lips. Flashing an enigmatic smirk that is also filled with ill-disguised mirth, he taps the side of his nose.
Hmm, a secret,
my subconscious shrugs her shoulders and rolls her eyes.
“But, we do have to leave in thirty minutes, so, Miss Kennedy, please haul that delectable ass out of bed.” He stands and heads into the en-suite, and runs my shower.
I’m in and out of the shower in less than ten minutes. Pulling my hair back, I secure it into a tight, assertive bun and apply a moderate amount of makeup. I release the towel unceremoniously from my body, and recover a black lacy bra and matching thong from the second draw of the dresser before gliding my skin-tone, hold-ups up to my thighs. I choose to wear my tan, gauze, silk blouse and my black pencil skirt, with my patent, tan heeled pumps, thanks to our New York trip before Thanksgiving.
“Okay, let’s go,” I call out as I make my way down the hallway, fetching my purse off the corner table alongside the apartment door.
“You, Miss Kennedy…” Hayden purrs. Snaring my narrow wrist in his clutch, he pulls me flat against his body. His roaming, left hand glides down my back and firmly cups my backside. “…look positively striking. How am I going to get any work done today?”
I trace my tongue at a languid pace across my lips, retracting it just as slowly. Aware that if we were left to sanction our hormones after last night’s recoupling, we wouldn’t leave the apartment, I blindly seek the door knob with my left hand.
Tipping my head back I whisper in his ear, “With the greatest of difficulty, Mr. Wentworth,” and I pull the door open before escaping the clutches of my tantalizing lover.
We derive from a long driveway with trees towering over us on both sides. A magnificent white house comes into view. My mouth falls open as we gradually close the distance between us and the great structure, which has an extravagant Roman pillar-style porch.
Hayden circles an ostentatious water feature that graces us in front of the property, before pulling up at the entrance and parking behind a black BMW.
I’m flabbergasted as I take a moment to absorb the opulence that I am witnessing. This is seriously…over the top style living.
“Hayden…” a mutter cautiously, turning to face him. “What are we doing here?”
His answering grin is both secretive and arrogant…and it one that halts my world and causes it to crumble at my feet. “Come with me.” He unfolds himself from the car, and I sense those familiar butterflies in my gut striving to break free.
He’s already at my side when I push myself up from the cool leather seat. He proffers his hand which I rather shakily, but readily accept.
“Nice fountain,” he says casually and points with his chin at the decorative, circular feature. If I were to put my feet in it, the water would easily be at the same level as my knees.
“Nice fountain?” I gasp while flaring my eyes. “Hayden, this is…I was less intimidated going to meet your mother. I feel like I’m going to meet the Queen of Sheba.”
Paying no relevance at my scaling anxiety, Hayden tosses his head back and laughs, before escorting me into the house.
Somewhere between the drive here and stepping into the house, I have lost every word in my vocabulary, except from one word––
Wow.
The foyer is all dark, polished hardwood flooring, cream walls with gold-leaf trimming. An enormous tear-shaped chandelier hangs above a round table which has two, deep red chesterfields’ at either side. In the center, an overlarge fireplace separates two different archways, but both lead into a second foyer. The opposite side is exactly the same as the one we just walked through, but this side has two red and gold trimmed wingchairs instead of chesterfields’.
“Mr. Wentworth?” A Hispanic woman donning a sharp, cream pantsuit which compliments her glowing complexion, and thick, black layered hair that reaches just past her shoulders welcomes Hayden from one of the doorways.
“Yes.”
“Vina Mendez,” she tucks a file under her arm, and holds her hand out to Hayden, who shakes it politely.
“Vina, this is, Samantha Kennedy; my fiancée.”
“Ah, the blushing bride-to-be,” I shake her hand warily. “It’s nice to meet you, Samantha.” She turns her attention back to Hayden, who is rhythmically stroking the back of my hand with his thumb. “Shall we?” and she gestures to another door that leads out of the foyer, and we make our way deeper into the mansion.
As we reach the lounge, I am awed by the semi-circle of floor-to-ceiling windows before me overlooking the expansive back lawn, and the breathtaking views of the San Francisco Bay, Aquatic Park and,
oh, my, God,
even Alcatraz.
I am ephemerally aware of Vina spilling out information regarding numbers and something about the dining room and ballroom, but I am too entranced to pay any attention. This really is a riveting view.
“If you’ll follow me,” she murmurs, and opens the door to the left of the panoramic windows.
Hand-in-hand we step outside and descend the curvature stairway with metal balustrade, to a patio below. As we stand back, I take a moment to appreciate the grandeur; it is truly a real-life fairytale visual. The arc of windows of the lounge overlooks us from the first floor, and two staircases, one to the left and one to the right, both curve and leading onto the courtyard.
With tears in my eyes, I promptly pull my hand to my mouth.
“What do you think, beautiful?”
I shake my head. I am rendered speechless yet again. I peek up at an anxiously waiting, Hayden. “It’s spectacular.”
“Samantha,”––he turns his entire body to face me––“will you marry me here?”
I gulp a profound breath and tighten my brow. “What?”
“Vina is a wedding planner; we can hire these grounds for our wedding. It has the views,” he waves his arm to the right, gesturing to the Bay and lets his arm fall heavily at his side, “a bridal suite upstairs. I know we haven’t discussed it, but I––”
I cannot think of a solitary word, other than, “Yes.”
“Yes? Really, yes?” his eyes flare with excitement and skepticism, but they’re also teeming with love…and relief, I think.
“Yes, I would love to, Hayden.”
With a grin bigger than the water feature out front, Hayden peeks over to Vina. “Yes, we will take it,” he exclaims, lifting me and spinning us around in exultation. I squeal and succumb to cathartic giggles, like a school-girl who has just agreed to marry her Prince Charming. Well, I suppose that isn’t straying too far from the truth.
Vina holds her finger up, indicating to give her a moment, and fishes her cell out of her purse. She answers her call and walks away, while Hayden and I continue to gaze at the spectacular views of the grounds.
After a few minutes, she returns and pulls a document from her file.
“Well, Mr. Wentworth and Miss Kennedy, let me be the first to congratulate you, I am sure your day will be magnificent. Secondly the waiting list for this venue is exceeding up until next August, fortunately for you, I have just had a cancelation.”
Hayden makes no attempt to disguise his delight, when he quickly rasps, “For when?”
The woman smiles, her black eyes glimmering. “July 14
th
.”
I never knew it was possible for one word and a number to make my face fall instantly, and cause my spirits to plummet into the base of my stomach.
Looking up at Hayden, I offer a weighted sigh. He encircles his arm around my waist, pulling me to his side.
“July 14
th,
Rose’s due date.”
I’m silent the entire journey back to Stalwart Tower.
July 14th?
Reluctantly, I pull my focus from the passer-by’s, and hang my head.
July 14
th
? I twist my amethyst around my finger at high velocity. I can’t get married on a day that is…was, supposed to be for our baby. Weddings are emotional enough, never mind if your head is focusing solely on such an emotional event that should be taking place but never will.
I can’t get married on that date
.
The sunniest day of the year falls into blackness as we enter the underground parking lot. A lot like my feelings and responses of the last ninety minutes.
Parking in his usual spot, Hayden shuts off the ignition. An uncomfortable silence shields us like a thick, prickly blanket.
“Sam, you haven’t said a single word since we left.” He grazes his hand down my thigh and sets it on my knee. “Please, tell me what you’re thinking.”
I draw in a deep breath through my mouth and exhale it forcefully from my nose. I scour my gaze up to Hayden and lock our eyes, mine hooded and lifeless, his concerned and precautious.
“I…”
He tosses his head back against the leather headrest as if he’s experiencing some revelation, a moment of clarity. “I am such an idiot. I have literally, just got you back, and the day after you let me back in I go and fuck it up by pushing wedding plans on you.”
Slipping my hand onto his thigh, I shake my head. “No, Hayden. The house was phenomenal, and I do want to marry you there. It’s just…” He rolls his head gingerly along the headrest to face me. I sigh anew. “Hayden, I want to enjoy and remember my wedding day, I don’t think I will be there mentally if we do it on that date. Now it’s my turn; what are
you
thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I love you so fucking much; I would marry you tomorrow if I could.” Shifting over the console, he brushes his thumb over my cheekbone and cups the side of my face. “I don’t care how, I don’t care when, I don’t care where; as long as I am able to share my name with you, and truly make you mine.”
I lean into the warmth of his palm and attempt to focus intently on what my mind and heart are conveying.
If you’re afraid to shake the dice, you’ll never roll a six.
It would be Rose’s birthday, and she was conceived out of the love Hayden and I hold for each other; what better way to honor her, than by getting married and pledging that love before everyone…for her.
For the first time since leaving the venue, I offer a sincere smile.
“Okay,” I concede. Hayden instantly pulls his head from the padding and gawps at me with deeply-rooted optimism. “I will marry you on July 14
th
.”
He opens his mouth and I quickly halt his impending words as I hold up my index finger.
“But, under one stipulation.”
EPILOGUE
---------------------------
Breathe in…breathe out…breathe in…breathe out.
No matter how many profound breaths I take, I cannot quell my escalating nerves.
My body is shaking, my heart is assaulting my ribcage with its ruthless assault and my mouth is bone-dry with the amount of air that I am sucking in and holding deep in my lungs.
Breathe in…breathe out…
I close my eyes and allow the beige and golden walls to crumble around me and the royal blue carpet to dissolve at my feet, along with the thick, ugly sphere of tension that knots its way from my heart to my stomach.
Breathe in…breathe out…I open my eyes and study my reflection.
My long, auburn hair is loosely curled and swept across my right shoulder, trailing down over my breast. Scattered diamonds sparkle from between the curls and from the diadem in place atop of my head. The fitted, ivory satin gown skims over my body, the neckline drooping elegantly, while the scintillating straps crossover at my back. A crimson streak runs from the middle of my spine and down the train like a red river expanding into the ambit of the ocean.
I both feel and look like a princess.
I am startled and pulled away from my self-appraisal as a powerful knock resonates at the door behind me.
“Come in.”
Through the full-length, gold frame mirror, I watch the door open and a dark-haired woman wearing a black miniskirt and a transparent, red gauze top enters the room. She’s holding a folded copy of the Bay Times.