Page 60 of Rome: The Ballerina

The wheelsof the Rolls Royce came to a halt halfway around the arched driveway. August was out of the backseat and around the SUV in a flash. How his legs moved so swiftly was always baffling to me.

Nevertheless, I stepped down and allowed him to close the door behind me. Silently, I stared straight ahead, admiring the flowers I’d chosen to garnish my yard. They were a combination of soft pinks, whites, and ivories.

“Hmmmmmm,” I breathed out, barely above a whisper.

This home–

This beautiful home–

It was a far cry from the loft I’d left behind nearly five years ago. It was a reminder that I was still alone. Its quietness told me night after night that he wasn’t here. Tonight, it told me he wasn’t mine.

“You good, Balle?” August questioned as I stood in the doorway, long after he’d opened it.

“I will be,” I claimed, stepping into the castle that was built for a growing family.

Unfortunately, it was only me. Still, Teddy insisted. He knew my desires. He knew my heart. And, I knew his. This was his apology. His way of saying he was sorry for uprooting my life for so long. His way of trying to make amends.

There was nothing to be sorry for, in my opinion. I’d been on the tips of my toes since I was two years old. It was time I gave them a rest. During those years away, I’d grown. I’d matured. I’d discovered who I truly was in this world. I no longer struggledto find an identity of my own off stage. I knew exactly who I was now. St. Catana had shown me.

I secured the locks even knowing that I wasn’t alone. I was never alone. August and Koen were always near. Their new residence was on my property. It was a multiple family home split into two townhomes that would house up to six people.

While August was single and childless, Koen had two children with his ex-wife. When my calendar was empty, he would be inviting them over. The issue was, my calendar was hardly empty. But, my heart wouldn’t allow him to go too long without seeing his children, even if that meant bringing them along with us every now and again.

My heels tapped against the wooden floor. The smell of fresh paint was obnoxious. It fought hard to overpower the vanilla and caramel plug-ins in every few hundred feet of my home. However, it was outnumbered.

I stopped to relieve my feet of the Louboutin heels that mimicked the pointe shoes of ballerinas. They were the perfect gift from Range. Strangely, their comfort level was impressive.

Slipping right out of them, I slipped into a pair of chunky wedges that were lined with feathers and light pink in color. The fridge was my first stop. While I didn’t enjoy a drink with Royce, I enjoyed her company before work pulled her away from the table for far too long.

I uncapped the filtered water I’d filled my bottle with. As it slid down my throat, my body’s temperature lowered drastically. I’d been trying to put out the fire inside since encounteringhim. It wasn’t until the bottle was approximately seventy-five percent empty that I released the matte brown bottle.

My physical health improved dramatically. But, mentally and emotionally, I was still a prisoner. I refilled the bottle to the very top and placed it back in the fridge. By morning, it would be the perfect temperature and the perfect start to my day.

I took the stairs one by one. The weight of my reality kept me grounded, nearly stilled. My movements were slow. My heart was heavy. My thoughts were boggled.

The spiraled stairs proved to be a challenge. I regretted not using the four passenger elevator Teddy installed for nights like this one. Because I was halfway up, I knew there was more work going down than to keep pushing.

The second floor greeted me with crisp, cold air. My arms and back swelled with fine, hard bumps. A yawn widened my mouth and watered my eyes. Slowly, sluggishly, I entered my bedroom. The king-sized platform bed was calling out to me, tempting me.

I can’t.

Though I considered it, I knew I couldn’t climb inside without scrubbing my limbs of the day’s dirt. Mudding my sheets with the germs I’d encountered wasn’t an option, so I dragged myself across the room and into the bathroom.

Without haste, I slid the straps of my dress down my arms. Effortlessly, it fell to the floor, surrounding the shoes that had come as no surprise from Roulette. My nipples pebbled from the cold. I slid my hands up and down my arms, hoping to bring comfort and warmth. There was hardly any use.

To put an end to my misery, I pressed the top button on the floor’s thermostat. Right beside it was the thermostat for the entire bathroom. I hiked it up by five degrees.

My nipples led my body to the shower. I powered on the water and adjusted its temperature as well. The neatly wrapped bun would reserve the state of my hair. There was no need for a protective layer.

I leaned my body against the glass. It was cold to the touch, but I welcomed the chill. The bathroom was heating up around me. My skin wasn’t as tight and didn’t hurt as much.

“Saint,” I released, “De Bacco.”

Sac. The nickname made perfect sense now. It was a combination of his first and last names.

Saint De Bacco.

Clarke Vultures.

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