Page 142 of Rome: The Ballerina

“Exactly how are you going to do that?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

A comfortable silence met us. My feet didn’t touch the floor until I was in the bathroom. The cold tile flooring sent a chill up my spine.

I made my way into the separate area designated for the toilet. I peeled my clothes down my body and allowed them to fall onto the floor. The back of my thighs hugged the toilet seat as my bladder emptied. The water from the tub had triggered my flow.

“I might be biased, Mellow, but–”

Saint’s voice startled me. I looked up to witness his flawlessness leaning against the doorframe. One hand was brushing the hair of his chin and the other was across his chest.

“You’re the prettiest thing on God’s green earth. He wasn’t in a hurry creating you. It took a lot of trial and error. Six, exactly. Seven if you’d like to include your mother. And, then came you. Last. A culmination of all the good things in every woman in your immediate family. A masterpiece.”

“Saint,” I managed.

My voice cracked with emotion. Widened nostrils confirmed the instability of my emotions. I was unwell. That factored into all the things I was feeling. So, with that bit of information, I silenced myself. I wouldn’t last more than a few words without pricked eyes and a heavy heart.

“But, again… I might be biased.”

He tossed his hands in the air and shrugged his broad shoulders. I cleaned myself up and flushed the tissue down the toilet. When I stood, heading out, Saint hadn’t moved.

“What?” I chuckled, matching his gaze.

“I want you to meet my parents.”

“I’ve met your parents,” I reminded him.

He tilted his head and nodded.

“You have. As our neighbor. Not as the woman I’ve fallen in love with.”

“Saint–”

“Yes?”

“Your father knew you were in love with me before he met me at my door. Your mother knew by the time you stepped off my porch. Your sister learned the night we met. Your feelings were only a secret to you. Everyone else knew.”

“And how do you know?” He asked, pulling me into him.

“Because I know.”

“You think you know every fucking thing, huh?” He asked, kissing my lips.

“Well, it’s not a thought, baby. And, neither is it everything. Just some things,” I explained, kissing him this time.

He released me and caught my right hand. I was led into the openness of the bathroom where the tub sat in the middle of the floor. My nipples hardened from the chill that ran the length of my spine.

With Saint’s help, I stepped into the tub. Foamy bubbles welcomed me. I lowered my body into the warm water. The temperature was perfect. I slid down slightly, placing my head on the plush bath pillow behind me. This was my first time in the massive bowl but it wouldn’t be the last.

“Comfortable?”

I nodded.

“Good. I’m going to grab your clothes and put them in the washing machine. Then, I’m going to tidy up in the kitchen. Don’t move, Mellow. Rest your head,” he demanded, kissing my head.

“Rest your heart. Rest your eyes. Rest your body. Rest your soul. You hear?”

I nodded, craving another forehead kiss. As if he heard my cries, Saint kissed me again.

---