Page 147 of Rome: The Ballerina

“Ohhhh, baby, I know. I see it. It’s all over your face. In the way you walk. The way you talk. The way you move. When a woman is in love, the good kind of love, it lights her up like Times Square on a cold New Year’s night.”

She chuckled, wiping a tear from her eyes.

“I’ve waited for this moment with you. For this man with you. I’ve prayed your patience wasn’t in vain. And, now, I pray this type of love never leaves you.”

“Like Richie.”

She inhaled deeply and then released slowly.

“Like Richie.”

“I miss him.” I cracked. I disabled the facade. Tears scattered across my face, running freely. “I’m totally ruining my makeup.”

“He misses you even more, Rome. And that’s what hurts most. Knowing he’s not resting well. He can’t. He left too many people that love him behind.”

I wiped my tears.

“You should go– or I’ll never make it out on that stage.”

“You’re right. I should. Have some water before you get on stage. You look like you could use some.”

“I will. I’m taking my water bottle up there with me.”

“Good. I love you, Ro.”

“In this lifetime and the next.”

“I’ll be waiti–”

“Knock. Knock.”

My heart leaped in my chest. My limbs locked. My eyes roamed the room, landing on the door.

Saint.

Long, slim legs sliced through the room. Within seconds, he was near. I could smell his cologne and reach out and touch that handsome face. I stepped back, putting space between my mother and I.

“Mom, Saint. Saint, this is my dearest mother, Rhea. Rhea Childers.”

He extended a hand, unable to offer much more with the incredibly large bouquet of flowers in his hand. Red petals were accompanied by baby’s breath. They were the perfect combination. Teddy’s roses were near the door, I didn’t know where the new batch would fit. They were massive.

“I’ve heard many good things about you,” he told my mother.

“I could say the same about you.”

“Good? You sure?”

“Aside from the fact you took far too long, yes. Only good things.”

“Ahh– that’s my bad. Next lifetime, I promise not to keep her waiting,” Saint sniggered.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he responded, assuring my mother.

“Good, then. I’m going to get out of here. I’ll see you two shortly.”

“See you out there, Mother.”

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