Page 69 of Rome: The Ballerina

“That’s all I’m saying,” I told her.

“I’m sorry.” She sighed, apologetically.

This time, she wasn’t bluffing. Her eyes were all the evidence I needed. Her shoulders rounded and her posture slackened.

“I’m going to do better, Saint. And, I don’t mean later. I’m going to work on not making my life and relationship harder than it has to be.”

“You’d be doing yourself a favor, baby. Out of your head. Just get out of your head.”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“I’m heading to the shower. Early morning flight.”

“Okay. I’ll be up when I’m done.”

I stretched my limbs until they popped. I rounded the table, meeting Aliza’s lips on the other side.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

I pushed my lips into hers and then pulled back. Gloom covered her pretty brown features. I wrapped my hand around her low ponytail, forcing her to look up at me.

“Whaa?” She asked, softly.

“I’m not mad at you, aight?”

“Then why didn’t you eat?”

“Alot on my mind. Has nothing to do with dinner. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you upstairs.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you back.”

I kissed her a final time before releasing her. As if I was in a rush to bed, I hurried down the hallway, up the stairs, through my bedroom, and into my bathroom where I closed the door behind me. I turned on the water, running the shower to rid it of the cold water. Finally, I settled against the counter.

With my back against the granite, I buried my head in my hands. I shook my head, hoping to clear my head. Too much was happening up there that I had no control over. Since I’d stepped down from that fucking porch, I no longer owned my thoughts.

You’re mine, Saint. From your head to your soles, you belong to me.

Her sureness was arousing. Mind-boggling. Soul-stirring. And, it didn’t matter how much I tried pushing her words to the back of my head, I couldn’t. There was truth to them. To some degree. I’d known since I saw her pretty face on stage at Huff Theater.

Her declaration was confirmation. It explained so many unanswered questions. Something within me shifted at the sight of her that night. Everything in me shifted to their rightful places at the sound of her proclamation.

Rome.

Her name circulated. It replayed in my head, looping like a broken record. I peeled my clothes off after losing the short battle in my head. The glass shower door slid back with ease. I stepped inside and allowed the water to knead away the stress I was feeling.

I arched my spine and closed my eyes. There was no way to vanquish the thoughts. They were loud and they were repressive, shutting down any and everything else.

It had been three years since I’d gotten on one knee and asked my lifelong best friend to be my wife. It had been four years since we’d decided to give a relationship a shot. It had been fifteen years since I’d made a promise I had no intention of breaking. Yet, here I was wondering if I was walking into my glory or a lifetime of regret.

---