Chapter Twenty-Two Emma Baldwin #2
The year 2104 has a stunning landscape of neon lights and towering skyscrapers that look so much better from here. The skyline is ever-changing, with floating gardens, bioluminescent parks, and intricate aerial transportation systems. Even with scattered clouds, it’s breathtaking.
I look down and see that the sparkling veil of silver rain is still falling on the people below.
It cleans the city streets. Umbrellas bloom and twirl in the hands of pedestrians like a ballet of ebony flowers in the diamond rain.
Drops paint the world below us, making the pavement shimmer like it’s brushed with stardust. Puddles splash under a child’s red boots.
Malcolm and I stand above it all.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“For what?”
“Everything.”
“Life happens.” I breathe out softly.
He gives me a serious look. “Yeah, but I should have talked about how I was feeling instead of going silent on you.”
“You had a lot on your mind.” I squeeze his hand and add, “This isn’t easy for either of us. We just have to trust.”
I feel so close to the gray clouds, but I’m dry and untouched. Tiny prisms of glinting rain fall and splash down on our invisible shield, streaming, splattering, and blanketing it with a glistening sheen. Drops roll down the arc above without leaving wetness on our brown skin.
“Cool, huh?” Malcolm says. He grins at the bubble of love he’s conjured. “Too bad spells from the magic books here don’t last too long.” After a pause, he adds, “But I thought this morning was so bad that we needed a little joy tonight.”
My breath catches in my throat as I finally look away from the city below and take in the rooftop getaway that Malcolm has planned for us. A bottle of soda chills in an ice bucket next to a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries on a nearby table.
Malcolm moves toward it, his tall frame silhouetted against the futuristic city full of metallic and glass skyscrapers and neon red and purple light.
Eyes beaming, he sweeps his arm grandly, gesturing toward a romantic dinner.
Rose petals sprinkle across the mauve cloth.
The table is set beautifully with shiny silverware and elegant silver plates, and candles flicker with silver flames that glow over decadent slices of pecan pie and red velvet cupcakes with glistening sugar sprinkles on top.
My mouth waters as I gaze at potatoes like fluffy clouds with tan streams of gravy drizzled on top, brown-sugar ham, vibrant green beans, and other yummy delights.
My stomach growls. I look for Imani, assuming she must have cooked.
But when I don’t see her, it dawns on me—Malcolm ordered room service, sparing no expense to impress me.
It works. I love his thoughtfulness and attention to detail and the selfless way he planned a surprise for me, even when he’s been depressed all day.
Malcolm leads me to the table and pulls out a chair for me. I put the flowers on the table, and we sit down to eat. His hazel eyes sparkle, reflecting the candlelight. His hand brushes against mine, and my body glitters. I wish we could stay in our magical bubble forever.
We savor each bite of our delicious meal, with the gentle tap of raindrops providing soothing music. When we finish, Malcolm stands up and extends his palm to me. “Can I have this dance?”
My heart thumps against his as we sway together.
I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin.
Candles twinkle like the stars above. My storm cloud dress sways around my legs, mimicking the rain falling on the city below.
Malcolm’s fingers trace down my spine. I pull him closer to me.
He presses his lips to my forehead and wraps his arms around my waist. In a whisper, he sings, “You are so beautiful.” His pitch is perfect, his voice like honey pouring slowly over my body, making it come alive with sweet desire.
I love the dance. The angles of our bodies, his strong chin, the hardness of his muscles pressing against me. All of it.
“Thank you again,” I whisper, pressing my lips against his neck, feeling the shiver that races through him from our touch.
I lay my head on his chest, listening to his heart pulsing in rhythm with the glowing trim of his lapels as we sway.
When I look up, the raindrops on the dome are blurring a full moon.
Malcolm’s fingers trace patterns on my waist, leaving a trail of fire.
And when he pulls me close and kisses me, my blood turns to lava.
Flames of want climb every inch of my body.
Our tongues slide against each other, our hearts thumping the same loving rhythm.
I push against him, feeling his ripped abs press against his suit as he breathes into me.
We break apart, and he smiles, joyful for the first time since his fight with Jayla.
Our dance continues, bodies colliding, teasing, and moving to the song he sings in my ear.
As we dance, I slide my hand under the back of his suit, feeling the warmth of his toned muscles against my fingertips.
His breath tickles my neck, followed by the press of his lips.
Our bodies move in perfect synchronization, teasing and tempting each other with every step until his song ends.
I tell myself that the stupid predictions are all wrong. That the love Malcolm and I have is real and special. A love meant to weather any storm. He walks me to the table and reaches underneath, pulling out two glowing, jewel-toned balloons.
“Emma,” Malcolm says softly, “if it’s cool with you, I want to honor those we’ve lost tonight. And let go of regrets.”
The pain and guilt from losing Grace is raw and deep. She deserves honor. And I could use closure. The time feels right.
“Okay,” I whisper, reaching for the gleaming turquoise balloon he offers. This balloon seems fitting because Grace loved looking at tropical waters. I run my fingers over the matching ribbon attached to the balloon. I imagine Grace standing beside me, smiling, telling me things will be okay.
Malcolm holds an amethyst balloon, his expression dark with grief. “This is for Alex. For Dad. For all the moments I didn’t appreciate when they were alive and the things I regret not saying.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I reply. “You were a kid.”
“It wasn’t yours either, Emma,” Malcolm murmurs. “Luckily, those we lost are still with us. In our hearts and our memories.” He glances up. “Their spirits are free in the afterlife, looking down on us.”
I smile at the moon again.
“Let’s release these together,” he says. “To honor their memory and let go of guilt and regrets.”
“Okay.” I smile, wondering if he regrets being with me and the chaos it caused with his sister.
Tears fill my eyes as I gaze up at the transparent glass dome, marveling at the endless expanse of the cloudy sky above and the silver rain tapping against it.
“How are we gonna let them go?” I ask. “There’s a dome above us… ”
“When are you gonna trust me?” He grins impishly.
We raise our arms to the sky, our glowing balloons reflecting the love, loss, regrets, and sorrow we’ve kept bottled inside.
The turquoise one passes through the shimmering dome above us first, the other one following.
They float through the silver rain, going higher and higher, past the moon, looking for the heavens.
Peace washes over me as I see them soar.
“Grace,” I breathe, my heart aching with love as my balloon drifts among the stars, “I’ll never stop loving you.”
We stand side by side, our hands clasped together. “Dad.” Malcolm’s voice is ragged. “Alex, I love you,” he says. “I wish you peace.”
As our balloons become distant specks in the sky, I feel a sense of comfort that replaces some of my guilt. Love transcends time and space. Love frees you.
“Malcolm,” I say, turning to face him, heart full. “Thank you.”
“Always,” he replies, with a breathtaking crooked smile as he brushes away my tears. “But Emma. I must tell you something. It’s hard as hell to say this but—”
“Don’t.” I kiss him, not wanting to hear anything that would take away from this amazing moment.
His eyes flash with desire and dangerous craving, making me wonder if he’s struggling to fight the bloodlust. I breathe into his mouth.
Holding him close is a test of my willpower, my strength.
And his. His silky tongue massaging mine, his fingertips on the small of my back, it drives me crazy.
Makes me want all of him. But touching Malcolm is like touching a razor’s edge, each movement at risk of drawing blood.
Still I’m drawn in, hopelessly, deeply, and with every kiss, I battle the urge to bite his tongue off.
The danger and desire are intoxicating. When I think I’ll give in to the darkness, I stop myself.
I pull away to give us both a breath to regain control before kissing him again.
He grips my hips. The invisible dome above us shatters.
Shards of gleaming crystal rain down. I cover my head, but they dissolve before falling on us.
Suddenly, we’re soaked by a relentless river of rain.
My hair swells wild and curly, like a black cloud of insecurity that makes me feel flawed. Embarrassed.
Malcolm puts his palm on my cheek, and I flinch; the urge to slap him comes fast. But I force myself not to, because I love him. I won’t let the curse’s dark urges rob me of this beautiful moment, of his wonderful touch. I paste a smile on my face.
“See?” He runs his hand through my wild curly afro. “It’s beautiful,” he whispers. “You’re beautiful.” And kisses me in the rain once more.
When I open my eyes, I see wings flutter by a skyscraper in the silver rain, massive and black. Raven’s wings.
I gasp.
Another large raven swoops down and lands on the wet lavender tablecloth by my golden roses.
Its beady red eyes glare as it flaps its wings, pushing the candlesticks to wobble and fall onto the potatoes, splattering gravy over everything.
Malcolm’s body stiffens in my embrace. His chalky brown face becomes as pale as a man who’s seen his own ghost.
I guess the romance is over.