Page 48 of Saint
He winked again, “Don’t you worry about it. We’ll get you there. And don’t ever apologize to me. You don’t have a thing to be sorry for. That’ll take time. I know. But again, we’ll get you there. Now, take in what I said, and tell me what you want.”
I listened to him. Took in his words.
And decided to mentally say,fuck it.
The way this man was.
The way I’ve never been treated.
So, I asked... “Can I rearrange the kitchen?”
He threw his head back and laughed, then he nodded, “Baby, you can change anything your little heart fucking desires.”
I lifted a brow at him.
He winked, “Telling you right now. You want to change the whole house layout; you just say the word. You want to paint all the rooms. Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it. You want to paint the house pink on the outside, you tell me, and I’ll see that it’s done. Don’t ever hesitate to make this house your home. Because that’s what it is. Okay?”
Those were the words Saint had said to me the morning after we moved in with him.
Therefore, standing at the paint counter, I took Saint’s words to heart.
Then I bought the paint.
Three hours later, with paint in our hair and on our clothes, Soraya and I stepped back from the wall.
The wall at the mouth of the hallway was caddy-cornered in a way and surveyed our work.
It didn’t look bad.
Not bad at all.
Seeing as it was almost Thanksgiving, I had this idea a long time ago when I still allowed myself to daydream about what life could be like.
And every season, I had wanted to paint a wall to match it. That was why the wall was now a deep burnt orange in color.
Yes, it would probably seem weird to other people, but to me, it made complete sense.
Taking in Saint’s words, if something made sense to me, then it didn’t matter what anyone else thought.
And now, because of this amazing man I had the pleasure of meeting on a chance encounter, I was living that dream.
Saint’s face when he saw the wall only proved his words to me.
He winked, took it all in, and nodded.
And that night after he kissed me stupid, I heard him whisper, “Too soon, but I don’t really give a fuck. I love you, Ophelia.”
I didn’t say it back.
Not because I didn’t feel it.
Because I did.
It just didn’t feel like the right moment.
The right moment to whisper those three words that had never had much meaning unless they were said to my daughter.
And to Saint... I wanted all of the meanings.
