Saint

Victoria

The Miller Center was complete. Joy commandeered my bones as I observed the pristine hall we stood in. We’d done it. We’d made a dream into a reality. Saint and I erected the recreational center that would tend to the community, including services ranging from counseling, tutoring, and more for autistic people.

“I’m proud of you, Saint.” Emphasizing the words, I wrapped my arms around him.

“I can’t take credit. My wife had her hands all over this. I’m excited to see what’s to come. It feels like I’m about to do something meaningful for all the people like me,” he grinned.

“Because youare,” I emphasized, cupping his face. “And I’ll be by your side through the journey.”

Since the doors to the facility would be opening within the next week, we opted to do a private walkthrough. There were no contractors or inspectors. Just me and him.

Everything had been polished clean for the grand opening to the community, but there was something special about walking the empty halls with the man who’d inspired the concept. He’d agreed to the project half-heartedly, but as it began to take shape, Saint’s enthusiasm grew.

“How are you feeling about a soiree of sorts for the opening?”

“Okay,” he floated, peering into the aquatic center.

We’d walked the entire first floor. Upstairs was where the counseling and classrooms would be. It was the last area we had yet to see. Slowing my movements, I reached for his hand.

“I need more than just an okay, baby.”

Tearing away from the indoor pool, he focused on me.

“I’ve been isolated on that beach for far too long. Not unlike the tale, I was a hermit of a beast. My life was a loop of me just going through the motions, living out my days in solitude with no desire to change.

“I’m ready to bear my uniqueness with the world. This,” he motioned to the space around us, “Means the world to me. I intend to be as present as needed for the kids that will grace these halls. I know you like to downplay your role in all of it, but you’ve been so instrumental in this project and in my life.”

“You’re going to make me cry, Saint,” I fussed.

“Save those tears, Beauty. I’m not finished yet.”

“Not finished?”

“Victoria, when you left me standing there with that duffle bag, I felt something inside my chest expand right before it exploded. It took me some time to recognize it, but I knew that I’d fucked up. When I agreed to give you that money, I meant every single word. I know it hasn’t been a year yet, but I want you to have that bread.”

Violently, my head shook before the words could intonate. “No.”

“Yes, Tori. As my wife, you already have access to everything, but I wanted you to have something of your own. I knew you’d make a fuss of me giving it to you, given how we started this journey together, so I put it into a trust for you to use as you see fit.”

“Saint Rafiq Miller,” I cried, eliciting a heavy sigh.

“Enough tears for now, Beauty. We need to finish our walkthrough.”

The late lunch with my parents was going smoothly until we landed on the topic of Saint. I knew it was coming. I’d braced myself for it. For the first hour, my mom led the conversation, bringing me up to speed on our relatives on the East Coast. I listened quietly, adding my two cents only when I needed to clarify a thing here or there about this cousin or that aunt.

“You went off and got married. Is that the reason we haven’t heard from you for the last six or seven months?” My father asked. I could tell he’d grown bored of the casual conversation. He was ready to dig into the elephant inappropriately nestled in their living room.

“Well, you all seldom reach out anyway,” I deflected and regretted instantly.

“This ain’t about us, Bee? Or is it? Did you marry that guy to spite us?”

Leave it to my father to spin the topic. He didn’t disappoint.

“I married him because I wanted to. It was hasty, and once I realized it, I was ashamed to come to you all.”

…Because I got involved with a man that was a sex trafficker and would have likely trafficked my black ass, too. My parents didn’t need to know that. Nor did they need the additional information concerning the million dollars that was promised to me… that I declined and still ended up receiving.

“Well, what’s done is done, I suppose. Tell us about the fellow. Can I at least know a thing or two about my son-in-law?”

“Saint is a sweetheart. He’s gentle but a veteran,” I nodded to my father, who was a retired marine, hoping that would earn brownie points. “He has autism, but he’s lived independently for years. He’s super smart, he respects me, and he makes me feel secure. I love him.”

“For him to be so monumental, you sure had a way of hiding him,” my father interjected.

“I wish we could have been there for you,” my mother added with a solemn look on her face. “You’re our only daughter, and we’ll never get to share any of those memories with you.”

My skin melted into the Winchester leather lounger of my parents’ living room. I was convinced it would swallow me before I was ready to leave. Ignoring my discomfort, I sat quietly in the sticky chair. Words were wearing on my mother’s heart, and they needed to be freed.

“And I wish he could have come to me and asked for your hand. This isn’t the way we used to do things,” my father fussed. “This new generation of millennials is something different, Henrietta, I tell ya.”

The pain my parents felt was evident in their posture and expression. They were disappointed that I hadn’t shared with them the news of my marriage. I knew it was wrong to have closed myself off from my friends and family. Shame and fear were to blame because of the agreement Saint and I had in place.

Now, with the news of my marriage out in the open, I could freely share that our love was indeed pure. It had been a few weeks since the fashion show. I didn’t expect water under the bridge when I decided to visit my parents. I knew they would eventually get over it, so I let them cook. Despite their complaints, my mother was elated that I’d settled down ‘with a nice gentleman.’ My father was glad I was in good hands.

Earlier in the week, they’d both made the journey out to Paramour Beach to see the home I shared with Saint. I’d settled back into the space comfortably, putting my condo up for sale and moving endless piles of clothing over.

A contractor spent the prior week transforming one of the bedrooms closest to the master bedroom into a closet for me. With my surplus of a wardrobe, sharing with Saint wasn’t an option. I was gassed when the closet construction was finally complete. I opened our doors to share the new addition with anyone who would bother visiting. And for the people who couldn’t swing by, I sent a video.

“Have you considered having an actual wedding where we could all be a part of sharing this special time with you, Tori?”

I issued a tight smile at my mother’s question. Of course, I wanted to do something to capsulate the memories of my marriage that included everyone. To date, I only had the few photos Saint had taken of us at the library. A grand display wasn’t necessary, but a display of some sort would have been nice.

Saint’s discomfort with crowds gave birth to my hesitation. I didn’t want to put him in an awkward situation if it meant sending his nerves into high alert. It would be unfair to ask him to do so for the sake of catering to other people. When we were first married, it was beautiful, despite the absence of profound feelings we now housed for one another. I wouldn’t take anything from that experience. Those memories were engraved across my chest in the home my heart dwelled. It was all I needed.

“Yeah, but it’s not necessary, Mom. Not really.”

My mother shared a look with my dad but said nothing.

“You still like peonies, Tori?”

It was such an aberrant question. Coming from my father, it made my face scrunch. “I do.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Well, I think you should get going back to the beach. It’s getting late. I would hate to keep you and then have you driving back in the dark. It’s a little over an hour’s drive, after all.”

My mother stood to her feet, waiting for me to follow suit. She’d inadvertently indicated the depletion of my welcome. I’d never seen her behave in such a way. It was odd.

Feeling the sting of their dismissal, I left my parents and made my way back home. Pulling up to the circular drive, my face dipped into a frown. I noted the various cars lining the driveway. Saint and I didn’t have company. He was a hermit, and while a social butterfly, I enjoyed our blissful solitude alone. We hadn’t discussed anything taking place at our home. The cars parked outside set off my internal alarm.

Despite my reservations, I forged ahead, scanning the vehicles as I approached the front door. Immediately, I noticed Supreme and Sincere’s vehicles. Robyn’s vehicle was next. As I continued my ascent up the drive, the front door swung open.

“Good,” Saint smirked. “You’re here.”

Again, he was dressed in a linen suit, unlike the day he’d come to collect me after the show. Standing inches from me, he looked good enough to eat. As I raked over the man I’d shared the better part of the year with, my face flooded with heat. My mouth watered, and my pussy thudded with the evidence that he still maintained dominion over it.

Coconut and sandalwood made a fool of my panties, and the man standing before me made a fool of my chest cavity. There was no steady syncopation of the tool I’d used to traverse through life in that space. It was gone. Held captive by him, my heart remained. I was smitten, unable to deny the chemistry that floated through the air.

“Saint, what’s going on? What is everyone doing here?” I wanted them gone so he could relieve me of the need I housed for him.

“Waiting for you, Beauty.”

As my face wrinkled with confusion, Saint sent a friendly wave to someone behind me. The gesture caused me to turn around, and I witnessed my parents easing up the driveway.

“Why are they here? I just left them. What–Waiting for me?”

“Yeah. Go and get dressed. I settled on cream and blush as the colors. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Saint, did you arrange a wedding ceremony?”

“No, Beauty. You told me you didn’t want that,” he laughed. “I wanted to respect your wishes and honor your desire for a celebration. Outside, all of our friends and family are joined to celebrate us. I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”

“Baby, I mind,” I whined, throwing my arms around him.

“Victoria, please go get dressed so we can start the festivities.”

“Are you–will you be okay with all the ruckus?” I probed, knowing he was sensitive to crowds and noise.

“I’m on my meds. If it becomes too much, I’ll find the nearest exit.”

Saint made the decision to get on antianxiety medication after several more sessions with his psychiatrist. He was always calm, but the medication seemed to assist with the sensory processing disorder. He’d become more social, though he still preferred the stillness of our quiet beach home. It made the gesture of a wedding reception so much more special. He’d gone out of his way–even if it meant him being uncomfortable– to do something special for me.

“Okay,” I nodded, rubbing his arms up and down –less to soothe him and more for me. “Okay.”

Dressed in a flowy, blush pink chiffon gown with a plunging halter, I grazed over my reflection. The twenty-four-inch wig with cut bangs suited my face. I finished the look with a brown lip liner and a pink gloss that complemented my complexion. Lash extensions were already attached to my lids for the next few weeks. I didn’t require much else. Matching Ferragamo sandals completed the attire. I was home. Comfort was the objective.

My heart spilled over with love. The joy dwelling inside me overwhelmed my bones. There was a moment in the bedroom where I just… cried. My tears assisted in releasing the excess of rich emotion. The remainder of them would be shared with our company awaiting my presence on the beach.

The events of the past year had all conspired to this day. From the moment my feet touched Komodo Island, my world began to shift, beginning and ending with the man whose last name I now shared. There was no doubt in my mind that we would prevail as we journeyed through life together.

I exited the bedroom to find Saint advancing down the hall. “I’m coming. I’m coming,” I announced the conclusion of my delay.

“You coming or you cumming?” With a mischievous smirk, Saint posed the question as he corned me against a wall. I could feel the growing rigidness between his legs. Pressing his frame into me, he emphasized the effect I reigned over him.

“We have guests waiting. I’ll cum later,” I vowed, planting a kiss on his lips and causing him to groan.

Freeing me from my enclosure, he collected my hand, and we made our way outside. A massive, clear marquee tent was situated steps away from the ocean. Adorned in cream-colored drapes, I hardly noticed the inside, nodding at Sam and a few other men in our security detail who were situated outside.

Orchids, roses, and peonies greeted us as we made our way to enter. Professional lighting was installed on the ceiling. Chandeliers adorned the space as well. Our initials were etched in the center of the floor, with two long tables on both sides.

It was a dream.

The best part of that dream was an excess of familiar faces that stood awaiting us. From an inconspicuous corner, a DJ announced our arrival, causing the room to erupt in applause. Saint led us to the middle of the room, where the chords for K-Ci Jojo’s All My Life commenced. Saphyre and her backup singers’ voices came over the speaker as Saint pulled me close.

“Saint, is she here? You got Saphyre to sing at our reception?”

“Girl, come on,” he chuckled, positioning my hands. “Let’s get this dance over with.”

Remembering his discomfort with crowds, I wrapped my arms around my man and allowed him to lead us in the dance. As cameras flashed, he pulled me closer and gripped my body tighter. The rise and fall of his chest told me he was breathing deeply.

“Are you okay, Saint?” I questioned, concerned about his comfort.

“I have the most beautiful, talented woman in my arms, in my heart, in my corner, and in my bed. I’m on top of the world, Beauty.”

As we continued to sway, I grabbed his face in my hands and kissed his lips. “Thank you. Thank you for doing this for me.”

“I’d do anything for you, Beauty. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Once we finished our dance, we broke into the small crowd of family, friends, and coworkers, offering well wishes to our union.

“Tori!”

From a distance, I spotted Luna waving at me as she approached. Her ample hips swayed violently in the dress she wore. Unlike my slender frame, my friend was a beautiful, bountiful woman.

“Hey, girlie,” she grabbed my hand and squeezed when she finally eliminated our distance. “I’m gonna take off. I didn’t know you were kin with him,” she grimaced.

Both me and Saint’s eyes followed Luna’s as she nodded toward Sincere.

“What’s wrong with Sincere?” I asked, not understanding why Luna seemed so disgusted.

“Aw, shit. What did Sin do?” Saint chimed in.

Initially hesitant to continue the conversation, Luna looked between the two of us. She craved privacy away from Saint’s presence.

“Girl, it’s a high probability that I’m gonna tell him anyway when we’re laid up in bed tonight,” I shrugged. Saint and I were so comfortable with each other that we didn’t keep secrets. We weren’t just husband and wife. He’d become my best friend. We shared everything.

“Okay, but… Don’t judge me.”

“We won’t,” Saint promised with a smile.

“I didn’t know Sincere was your brother-in-law,” she prefaced before providing any further detail. “We had a thing a while back. It was brief. I thought it would turn into something more, but… it didn’t. That man has been one of my biggest regrets to date,” she explained as her voice splintered.

“Aw, Lu. Don’t let him stop you from enjoying yourself.” I placed an arm around her shoulder, seeking to soothe whatever sting she was feeling.

“I would rather not be in the same space as him, Tori. I just–I have to go. I’m sorry.”

I stared in disbelief as Luna shuffled away toward the tent’s exit. Little could penetrate her mood. My friends were all tough cookies, just like me. There wasn’t much that could summon our tears. Immediately, I felt terrible for her. She’d had a difficult time with romantic relationships.

“That nigga always finds a way to piss in a woman’s cheerios,” Saint floated, shaking his head.

“Really? I had no idea. What’s wrong with him?” I asked with my gaze trained on my brother-in-law. Sincere, oblivious to Luna, was laughing it up with the DJ at the booth. The woman was attractive, explaining his persistent presence. I hadn’t known much about my brother-in-law. From the day we met, he’d been distant. Now, I wondered if that had anything to do with his involvement with Luna.

“Sincere is a Casanova of the worse kind,” Saint revealed. “If he crossed paths with Luna, chances are he hurt her feelings.”

My desire to march up to Sincere and demand that he set things right with Luna was tempered by the fact that I didn’t have enough details about her situation. It wasn’t my place to get involved. Luna would have to grow better at discerning the men she allowed into her life.

Saint and I floated around the room, arm in arm, accepting well wishes and chatting with our guests. There was one particular person who caught my eye, making them bloom in surprise.

“Mrs. Shirley?” I gasped at the librarian’s presence.

“Well, hello. What a treat it is to see you beautiful two young people again,” she smiled. The woman was dressed in her Sunday best. A pink skirt suit and a hat to match made up her appearance.

“I could say the same of you, Mrs. Shirley. Eight months ago, you prayed for us. I’m grateful for your heartfelt words and well wishes.”

“And I will continue to pray for you all,” the old lady vowed. “Especially for that little baby that you’ve got tucked away in there,” she pointed to my flat stomach.

Nervously, I chuckled, and Saint’s eyebrows hiked. “Baby?” Granting me a look that sought an explanation, he waited for my response.

“Uh oh. Did I say something I wasn’t supposed to?” Failing to linger, Mrs. Shirley was sheepish as she scurried away from us.

I wasn’t aware of any baby. It wasn’t exactly something Saint and I had discussed. With a growing fashion brand and the Miller Recreational Center just beginning, my thoughts were far removed from conceiving a child. Mrs. Shirley was kind of old. Though she had her wits about her, she was likely speaking some sort of superstitious foolishness.

“Victoria?” Again, Saint questioned.

At the call of my name, I rejoined the present moment.

“I–I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

Quickly, I attempted to do the math in my head to calculate my last cycle.

“It was seven weeks ago, Beauty,” Saint aided my computations.

“Huh?”

“Your period.”

“No. I bled this month. It was just–”

“Light enough for me to be inside you a day later,” Saint spoke absently. He’d been keeping better track of my cycles than I had, apparently. As I scanned the large tent, observing the people in closest proximity to our hearts, I felt his rounds scanning me. The brush of his fingers against my ear drew my attention back to him.

“You know, before I fell in love with you, I couldn’t imagine having children. How would I be any good to them when I hardly understood myself? It was a question I never needed to answer because the possibility was far removed from anything centering me.”

The stream of air as I exhaled registered how long I’d been holding my breath. Of course, I wanted kids. At least two. A boy and a girl would be ideal. My sole concern was the timing. It was so off-base. Maybe in another year or two, but now? Just as things had begun to take flight with my career? A child would only slow me down.

Not that there was anything wrong with slowing down. I was simply comfortable with the life I had. I was successful, I was married, and a child was honestly the only thing missing from the equation. Hell, I probably needed to slow down. Demure was my first child, and it depleted me frequently. There were undoubtedly fears about venturing into parenthood, but nothing that couldn’t be resolved in time.

“And what about now?” I asked, deflecting from my thoughts, competing for dominance.

“Things are different now,” Saint spoke, steering us to the king and queen table.

“How so?” I asked, feeling slightly winded. The few steps we’d taken moving around the tent after dancing left me breathless. Maybe I was pregnant. Saint ushered me into my seat right on time.

Raking his fingers through his beard and palming his head, he looked to be in deep thought. Over the months we’d shared, I realized the paired actions were yet another way he settled his nerves.

“The question is different now. Something along the lines of ‘Will they end up like me?’”

“What do you mean by end up like you, Saint?”

“You know… Autistic.”

The massive vessel in my chest splintered as I realized what he was saying. His biggest fear about starting a family stemmed from his concerns about how his child might see and navigate the world.

“If they’re anything like you, they’d be absolutely perfect,” I countered.

“And what if they’re not like me, Beauty? What if they’re nonverbal or require more than the average child? What if they can’t lead an independent life? Did you consider that? The strain it might be on us both?”

“No. I mean, we are getting a bit ahead of ourselves. I haven’t taken a test yet–”

“Victoria, you’re pregnant. Pee on your little stick or whatever, but I’m certain pregnancy is what has you so depleted these days. That dolphin we saw on our last dive confirmed it for me. I was reluctant to accept it, but dolphins don’t lie.”

My Doctor Dolittle of the ocean. He was a walking encyclopedia on marine life, and I thought it was the coolest thing ever.

The weather had been uncharacteristically warm for the season, permitting us to go on dives much more frequently together despite us heading into winter. There was a strange interaction with a dolphin on that last dive. They made peculiar noises near my stomach on approach. I just thought they were being playful.

“If we’re pregnant, we’ll deal with what comes, just as we’ve been doing. And I’ll love our baby, irrespective of how unique they are. The baby will be fine regardless of where it may or may not land on the spectrum,” I encouraged. “Things aren’t the way they used to be when we were growing up, babe. They’ll have a pair of parents perfectly equipped to provide them what they need with patience, compassion, and understanding.”

“I love you, Victoria Iman.”

“I love you, Saint Tyrone.”

“Every day, you remind me why I stay married to you, Beauty.”

“As I do you,” I vowed, cupping his chin. “Now, let’s get through this night and get these people out of here so we can return to what’s important.”

“What’s that?” He asked.

“Cumming,” I smirked.