“I chose to die. I died for my country.”
“And I died because eet was my time,” chimed in Madame, joining hands with Henri. They exchanged a loving glance that warmed my soul.
Madame continued. “Ma chérie, you are a fighter. You defied death twice.”
Yes, I had survived Boris’s life-threatening gunshot wound when I was eighteen and his vicious attempt on my life at the Beverly Hilton less than a year ago. But now, I was tired. So, so tired. I wasn’t sure if I could survive a third time.
“You can do eet again, Gloria.”
“Honor your vow,” said Henri, his vibrant eyes never leaving me.
“Honor them,” said Payton pleadingly.
Oh, my Jaime! My babies!
“Tell me. What do I have to do?” My tearful voice was just above a whisper. Madame responded.
“All you have to say eez: I want to live.”
“I…”
“I…”
Oh God! Why couldn’t I get past the first word?
Numbness seized my lips. My limbs. My inners. Oh, no! My body was shutting down. Leaving me. Please, God. Oh, please, please listen to me!
“I…”
Two “Gloria” songs clashed in my head, one calling me to Earth, the other begging me to stay here. I was fading. I desperately needed something, someone to make me feel alive.
Jaime.
“Angel.” I heard his velvety voice.
All the wonderful times we had danced in my head. From New York to Paris to Los Angeles to Tuscany. I felt the warmth of his lips on mine and the power of his magnificence inside me. Awakening every ounce of my being. No, I can’t leave him! I can’t!
“All you have to say eez…” Madame’s voice echoed in my ears.
As all life drained out of me, I forced my lips apart one more time. “I…”