A Question
I found Winston standing by the Bellagio fountains, leaning sideways against the concrete railing with his eyes shifting between the tourist jam and the water show.
He’d dressed for the midday heat, with a light-colored jacket and slacks, and a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck.
Droplets of water had landed on his jacket and misted his hair, making it glisten in the sun.
Strong wind gusts carried water from the jets, and sprayed it over the tourists, making them squeal and pull away from the railing, only to approach again moments later.
I tried to sneak up on him, but he turned and looked in my direction when I was only ten feet away. His eyes sparkled with joy when he saw me.
“Olivia,” he whispered as his lips met mine.
There was a hunger in his kiss like never before, and my body ached and longed with it, more with every heartbeat.
My arms wrapped around him for a moment, but then I let go when someone catcalled nearby and made a loud, nasty comment.
We might’ve been ignoring the crowd of tourists, but they weren’t ignoring us.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said, smiling shyly. “Unless you brought a picnic to enjoy by the fountains?”
His hand found mine, our fingers interlacing quickly, naturally, as if they belonged together and they’d been separated for a while. “No, I had something else in mind. I hope you’ll like it.”
I grinned widely. It was a beautiful day, the sun strong for May, but not as forbidding as I’d heard it could be in July or August.
My earlier fears were all but forgotten; when I was with him, I felt safe. I felt like I was home, like I belonged.
Making our way through the crowd of tourists gathered by the fountains, we followed the sidewalk toward the Bellagio, and I couldn’t help wondering what he had in mind.
He was unusually quiet, but the glee in his eyes told me I had nothing to fear.
He walked quickly, like he usually did when he had something in mind, his man-on-a-mission gait quite difficult to keep up with in heels.
A table was set up for us at Lago, on the terrace overlooking the fountains. An ice bucket held an unopened bottle of champagne. The host—a tall, slim young man in a pristine white jacket—seated us without saying a word, then bowed quickly and disappeared.
We were alone.
Like Sunday night, when we’d shared dessert on the patio across the street, our table was isolated, the entire section of the restaurant having been cleared of furniture and people. In the middle of a crowded place, he’d managed to arrange a private lunch for just the two of us.
I leaned back in my seat and smiled. It was perfect. I gazed at him, at his loving eyes, and realized he was dying to tell me something, but hesitating. To ease the tension, I picked up the menu. “What would you like—”
He held his hand up, and I stopped talking.
“Olivia, I know how it will sound to you, but I have to tell you this.” He seemed nervous, his eyes darting around, his hands clasping and unclasping on the table. “I’ve made arrangements to get a divorce.”
My heart lurched, a mix of shock, disbelief, and something I wasn’t ready to name tightening in my chest. I had played so many scenarios in my head, so many possibilities. But this?
“Winston, I—”
He shook his head. “Don’t feel guilty. You’ve changed my life. Since the day I met you at that conference, I have been deliriously happy. You make me feel alive and free. Before you, I was just . . . existing.”
My eyes brimmed with tears. He had no idea I felt the same way, although I’d never thought it possible, never anticipated I’d find someone like him. My hand flew to my mouth. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say yes,” he replied, putting a small black velvet box on the table and opening it.
I gasped.
The exquisite ring featured a stunning heart-shaped, brilliant-cut diamond sparkling with fire, flanked by smaller diamonds on either side and set on a simple platinum band. A teardrop rolled down my cheek when I looked at him.
“Oh my God, Winston,” I whispered, struggling to contain my emotions. I was losing my mind, insanely happy and at the same time scared, wishing he would’ve waited some more before asking me. Wishing I’d had more time with him before . . . this.
“Say yes, baby,” he whispered, taking my hand to his lips, then holding it gently. “I’ve never wanted anything in my whole life as much as I want you.” His eyes darkened with desire, seeding fire in my blood.
“Yes,” I whispered, unable to resist, clinging to the impossible dream for just a little while longer. A smile bloomed on my lips as he slipped the ring onto my finger. Then I stood, still holding on to his hand, and lost myself in his arms, melting under the heat of his passionate kiss.
Defense Attorney Blake: Dr. Leishman, you’ve spent years studying and treating victims of childhood sexual abuse. Can you tell us about the impact such trauma has on a person’s ability to form intimate relationships?
Dr. Kristen Leishman: The effects of childhood sexual abuse are profound and long-lasting. Victims often carry the scars into adulthood. They seek connection like anyone else, but their bodies and minds carry the memory of the abuse, manifesting in moments of intimacy.
Defense Attorney Blake: What does that mean, exactly, Doctor?
Dr. Kristen Leishman: When faced with intimacy, their body often reacts instinctively—pulling away, shutting down, or feeling intense fear or revulsion.