Page 148 of Rome: The Ballerina

She was sure to shut the door behind her. And, it wasn’t until then that Saint freed his hands and wrapped those long arms around me. He lifted me from my feet, sweeping me into the air. His eyes were curious. His hands were healing. His smile was jarring. His presence was comforting.

“I love you, Mellow.”

“I love you,” I confessed, smashing my lips into his.

When I was placed on my feet, it still felt like I was flying. He had that ability.Onlyhe had it.

“My heart has been waiting for you.” Slowly, I released the breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding.

“I’m here, heart.” Saint lowered his face and spoke directly to my chest, bringing a smile to my face.

“I’m right here,” he whispered.

He kissed my lips again before straightening his spine.

“You ready to go out there and crush shit?”

He smoothed my hair back, reminding me I still hadn’t wrapped my bun.

“Yes.” I nodded. “I am.”

“I brought my mother and sister along. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I sent you four tickets for a reason, baby.”

“Ion know, baby. I’m just checking.”

“It’s fine. I hope they enjoy the show.”

“Well, I was hoping I could introduce you before the show began.”

“Saint,” I whined, “You’re some kind of special.”

“Two minutes.”

“All I need is one.”

“Okay. One minute.”

He rushed toward the door. I took the time to twist my hair into a bun and secure it with two brown scrunchies.

Perfect. I concluded just as his mother and sister stepped inside. Nadia was gorgeous. I wasn’t sure if I recalled her being so flawless. She was stunning in olive. The tailored blazer and pants to match made her look inches taller and like she meant business.

“Rome, my mother, Jada. My sister, Nadia.”

His mother was something fresh out of a magazine. Beige was her color. It suited her well.

“Nice to meet you both, again.”

“Same to you,” his mother said, pulling me in for a hug.

Her warmth was welcoming. She squeezed tightly, letting me know she wasn’t afraid to get physical at all. I imagined her children felt safe in her arms in their youth. It was likely she allowed their vulnerability and emotional outpours. Just like Rhea.

Nadia followed. Though quick, I didn’t miss the sigh against me. Relief, for one reason or another, wiped her slate clean.

She’s been waiting for him.

“He’s in good hands,” I assured Nadia, “There’s no need to worry anymore. He’s home.”

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