Page 70 of Fever

I quickly made my way to the side of her and crouched down in front of her, needing to connect with her eyes. “It was the wrong move. I should’ve waited.”

“Until what? You did what you felt was right, and it turns out, you were. It worked like a charm. Even had me fooled.”

My chest tightened, and I reached out to her. “Santana, please…”

“I need to be alone for a while. Just to clear my head.”

I hung my head then looked back at her. “I don’t want to leave you like this.”

She attempted to give a brave front with a weak smile that I could see right through. “It’s okay. Part of it is my own fault. I knew where this road was going; I shouldn’t have been surprised. I just…” she opened and closed her fingers, “I don’t know.”

“Baby,” my knees fell to the ground as I wrapped her in my arms. “I’m so sorry. Please, I don’t want to leave. Let me stay… please.”

I kissed her face on one side than the other. When I kissed her lips, it was one sided, so I held close and only stared in her eyes.

“I need you with me. I don’t want this to mess up what we have going on. My feelings for you are real.” I slid her hair away from her face behind her ear. “Let me stay, don’t push me out.” I leaned my forehead into hers, and she exhaled again.

“You can stay,” she said, rising to her feet.

I rose with her, and she linked our fingers, as we strolled to the bedroom.

Fifteen minutes later, Santana was in the shower and as bad as I wanted to be in there with her, I knew she needed that time to clear her head. An hour had gone by before the bathroom light shut off and the door opened. Heat poured out of the door and followed her to the bed when she shuffled inside. I immediately pulled her to me, needing to comfort her in any way possible. The thing I hoped for most was that Santana would truly forgive me. As we lay there, neither of us spoke. The silence around us seemed to grow past the midnight hour.

When her soft breathing encompassed me, I kissed the back of her neck and closed my eyes wishing like all hell that this would pass.

The next day, Santana was herself again. Laughing, talking and carrying on as if last night didn’t happen. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or be doubtful, but if she was truly okay, I didn’t want to broach the subject. Several times, I found myself set to apologize. But the uplifted spirit she presented kept my act of contrition to a minimum. The days moved and became weeks that we publicly put on a show as Chicago’s youngest and most elite engaged couple. We were approached by CosmoBride and The Nest magazines for exclusive shots of our wedding pictures. I took it all in stride while making sure Santana was okay with how fast things moved.

She would always assure me that she was good, and then we would move on to the next venture. The subject of meeting her parents arose. It was me that brought it up. Santana gave me pause, but I reminded her, we were a real couple, so it was technically okay for me to meet them. That seemed to rest her spirit a bit, but I could tell she was still apprehensive.

“Santana,” I called out to her as we neared the airport, “at any time that you want to call this off, we can. I appreciate you taking things this far. I’m indebted to you.”

Santana lifted her chin at me and gave me that beautiful smile. “I said I’d take it as far as it needed to go, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“I’m a woman of my word.”

I smiled back at her and sat against my seat, resting my arm over her shoulders. The limo pulled to O’Hare International Airport, and we took the three-hour flight to Houston. It was midday when we arrived, and Santana had fallen asleep. I woke her with a kiss that she returned with a fiery passion.

I smiled against her lips. “We have arrived,” I said.

She yawned and stretched. That was one of the best naps I’ve gotten in a long time.”

I frowned slightly. “Have you had a hard time sleeping?”

Santana thought about her next words, and I could tell her response was limited. “It’s okay sometimes, you know, but I’m all right.”

I traced her features and couldn’t tell from her beautiful face if she was lying to me.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand and rising from her seat. “Let’s go see Mama and Daddy.”

Exiting George Bush Intercontinental Airport hand in hand Santana, and I made our way to the Hilton Hotel and checked in. We didn’t stay there long opting to make a day of shopping while we were in her city. It was well around five o’clock when we headed over to her parents’ house. Although I’d wanted to take them out to a restaurant, Mrs. Summer preferred we come to their house for a home cooked meal. A man could never turn down a good home cooked meal.

When we pulled into the driveway, the British colonial revival home sat large and in charge on what appeared to be a few acres of land. I glanced over to Santana and peered at her.

“What?” She shrugged.

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

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