Page 27 of The Facilitator: Part 3
Her gasp was loud, her sob even more so, and disguised by the gasps of those new toMadam Butterfly. The music started and Lauren held my head, tears ran down her cheeks as she came.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
I’d returned to my seat by the time the lights came back up. I took one of Lauren’s tissues and wiped my lips.
She stared at me, openmouthed, wide-eyed. “I can’t believe you just…” She blinked a few times and then closed her eyes. She pursed her lips and breathed out slowly. She laughed. While people left their seats, she sat there and laughed. She wiped tears from her eyes and laughed some more.
“I have no words,” she said.
I stood in front of her, shielding her a little, and pulled her to her feet. Her creased dress fell back to cover her.
She was still chuckling when we left. We walked through Convent Garden dressed in our finery, as did others. There were people in jeans, shorts, black tie, and entertainers in circus clothes. I took her hand and led her to a restaurant with a rooftop terrace. We followed the waiter up the narrow stairs to our table on thebalcony. We could look down on the square and watch life going on.
“I think I need a vodka, lime, and soda,” she said when asked.
“No champagne?” I asked. She shook her head.
I place my order for a bottle of red wine. I was sure Lauren would join me after her aperitif. She reached across and took my hand in hers.
“I don’t know what to say about this evening,” she said, chuckling.
“Thank you?” I offered, and she laughed some more.
“Honestly, I don’t feel like I should be laughing as much as I have today. It’s only a couple of weeks since we buried him but somehow, it feels okay. Does that make sense?”
“Perfect. He was a fun guy; I highly doubt he’d want you to mourn too long. He’s released now, Lauren, he’s been stuck in that broken body for so many years. He’s finally out of it.”
She nodded. “I didn’t want to believe Mum when she said he wanted to die, but I knew. Deep down, I knew he hated living. Even though he had brain damage, I believe he still had memories and that must have been so frustrating for him.”
A server arrived and we ordered our meals. She took the menus and left us. “I honestly don’t deserve you,” she whispered.
“You do. Don’t have that thought in your mind at all.”
She rolled her eyes and smiled. We people watched, we chatted about the opera, what she could concentrate on, of course. We ate and we drank wine. We ended with coffee and it was with reluctance that it was time to leave to head back to the hotel. A hovering server suggested they might have more people for our table. I hailed a taxi and we rode back.
“Nightcap?” I asked.
“On the terrace?” she asked, and I nodded.
We took the elevator to our room and I called down for another bottle of wine. We were both a little tipsy but I could hold my liquor way more than Lauren could. After another couple of glasses she was giggling like mad and dancing around in her bare feet. I caught her as she tripped and carried her to bed. She stood with her arms held high so I could remove her dress.
Her mascara was smudged and I licked my thumb to run under her eyes. “I’d prefer you smudged my lipstick,” she said.
“Are you able to consent?” I teased, I knew my wife, and I’d know if she wasn’t.
“Mr. Miller, I’d really love it if you used that large and gorgeous cock of yours to make me come. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t donesomany times these past couple of days,” she said, pouting her lips.
I did as she asked, of course. I made her come and once she had, she fell asleep in my arms.
Sunday morning, after breakfast, we checked out. My car was outside the hotel and a porter loaded the trunk. I put the roof down and slid my sunglasses over my eyes. Once I’d tipped the valet and the porter, I climbed into the driver’s seat.
Lauren looked over to me. “Home, my amazing husband,” she said, laughing.
I drove us through the traffic home.
Chapter Eight
“Are we sharing a car?” Lauren said, as she grabbed her workbag.
