Chapter 32 #2
Words leave me and dreams start flooding in. My heart beats like a drum as I start walking slowly towards the house, like stepping on clouds. Dorian follows me in a slow pace, watching me with a smile stuck on his face.
The air itself smells of fresh hope, long forgotten dreams, and a new promise.
Dorian unlocks the front door and we step inside. The foyer is bathed in warm, natural light streaming through a bay window.
There are no shadows here.
“Come,” Dorian says, leading me into the heart of the house, and I feel as if this is exactly where I should be.
* * *
Dorian
Seeing her face light up, her eyes shining and her fingers barely touching the counter as if needing a proof this is real, finally quiets the storm inside me. The ache in my side is numbed, replaced by a heart that is burning, alive and terrifyingly full.
We are in the kitchen, which flows into the family room.
Della goes straight to the French doors facing the generous, luxurious garden.
Sunlight floods the space, contouring her silhouette in gold.
I can’t take my eyes off of her and when she turns smiling at me with that fire in her eyes, my knees buckle and I need to lean against the island counter. My Della.
“This house is amazing, Dorian.”
A sharp pain slices through my ribs and my knuckles turn white on the marble counter as I grit my teeth.
“Are you ok?” she comes to hold me. “You need to sit down.”
“Yeah,” I lie, though I let her guide me to the stool. “Don’t worry.”
I reach for her hands and pull her closer, between my knees, resting my forehead on hers. Just holding her this close is enough anesthesia for my pain.
I lift my head. I need to clear the air. I can't start this life with her until I tear down the last wall between us.
“You asked…” I say, my voice dropping, heavy with the weight of five years. “You asked what would have happened if you hadn't come back to Chicago.”
“I remember,” she whispers.
“Only after you said it, I… I really saw the truth.” I admit “I do not have a grand, movie like explanation. I don’t know. I felt numb for years. I was a coward, Della.”
I look up, letting the raw vulnerability show. I don't care that it makes me look weak. It is the truth, and she deserves to know it.
“But I thought about you every day and night. I almost flew to you a dozen times. I even bought tickets a couple of times, but I stopped. Because I… I was terrified. Terrified that if I came to you, you’d look at me and see the man who let you down.
A broken man. I was terrified that you would not love me anymore.
But I was wrong. And I was a fool to think I could live without you. ”
I take a deep breath and squeeze her hands tight, needing to anchor myself to her reality.
“I can’t undo the past, Della. But I can write the future"
Tears prick her eyes. She squeezes my hands back, her voice thick with emotion.
“Dorian, I…”
I release her hands, just to cup her beautiful face in my hands, and place a gentle, silencing kiss over her full lips. I have to do this now, no interruptions.
"Hop on the counter, my love," I tell her as I gesture to the large marble island.
She looks at me, confused but trusting. “What?”
“Up,” I whisper.
I place my hands on her waist—ignoring the protest of my stitches—and help her boost herself up onto the cool marble, settling above me.
"Dorian, what are you doing?" she asks, her breath hitching.
"I can't kneel for you right now," I say, my voice raw, the physical pain nothing compared to the swell of emotion in my chest. "But I will always put you above me. You are my sky, Della."
I look up at her, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the velvet box.
"I don't want to waste another second," I say, my voice steady now. "I’ve wasted five years. I’ve wasted weeks since you came back. I’m done waiting.
I want to see you flying in the swing, dancing in the kitchen while you cook.
I want the ordinary, beautiful life we talked about. I want all of you."
I open the box David and Flor brought this morning.
The diamond catches the sunlight flooding through the garden doors. I reach for her trembling hand.
"Della Toma, my love, will you be mine? Forever?"
* * *
Della
The tears spill out, hot and wild, streaking down my face.
I look at this man—this powerful, broken, beautiful man who once shattered my heart. He is offering me everything: his name, his home, his future.
But he is asking the wrong question.
"No," I whisper.
I smile. A radiant, secretive, terrified smile.
Dorian freezes and I can see the color draining from his face.
His eyes—God, the pain in them—it’s like I just ripped the heart right out of his chest. His voice catches.
"Della?" He sounds lost, desperate, his hands shaking on the counter as he starts to pull away.
I don't let him. I grip his wrist, holding him there with me.
"No," I repeat softly.
I guide his hand, sliding it under my t-shirt, pressing it against the slight curve of my lower belly. His hand is huge and warm, and suddenly he’s so still.
His eyes widen, glued to where his palm rests on my skin. You can almost hear his mind spinning, trying to make sense of what I’m telling him without words.
I lean forward, pressing my forehead against his.
"We," I whisper against his lips. "We will be yours."
A shudder runs through his massive body. He looks into my eyes, and in that instant, understanding crashes into him like a tidal wave.
The devastation vanishes, replaced by a look of such profound, blinding awe that it takes my breath away.
I look into his eyes and I see the future he is envisioning for us. I see the man who faced a gun, who got shot for me. And I see my own reflection, too—not a girl who needs saving but a woman who feels the safest in his arms.
"Della..." he breathes, his hand flexing possessively against my skin, covering us.
Neither of us can find the words. They’re too small for this immense joy.
His mouth finds mine, desperate and worshiping, tasting of salt and salvation.
Our tears mix, blurring the line where he ends and I begin, sealing the only promise that matters.
We are finally, beautifully, alive.
Together.
In our sacred Universe of three.