Page 30 of A Virgo's Muse
“Then I met Desire.”
I could feel my throat begin to tighten.
“She was all softness and fire, control and chaos. She painted like her heart was bleeding. She smiled like she was holding back a storm. And she loved like it hurt, but she did it anyway.”
Quiet silence fell over the room. It was just us, standing in the middle of a gallery full of our story.
“She didn’t need me to fix her. She just needed someone to see her. And I swear to God, I saw everything. From that first night at Angel’s Secret where she was able to see my sculpture in its entirety to the first time I was able to place my hands on hers when we sculpted clay together, to the first brush stroke she made on my chest… I was gone.”
A few people laughed softly at the memory. I didn’t even crack a smile. It was too real, and I was reliving it as I spoke.
“Desire,” I said, turning to face her fully. “You didn’t just change my life. You made me want one.”
She gasped. Her body trembled, and her tears kept falling freely now.
“I used to think love was a weakness. That being vulnerable made you a target. But loving you made me stronger. It made me better. It made me a man I never thought I could be.”
I dropped the mic to my side then lowered down slowly onto one knee. My heart was beating so damn loud I swore everybody could hear it.
Her eyes widened. Her hand flew to her mouth.
I pulled the velvet box from my pocket and flipped it open. Inside was a soft oval-cut diamond nestled in a hidden halo with a thin, elegant band. It was soft just like her.
“I may not have known you long, but I know what forever feels like now. You made sure of that.”
She was already crying, shoulders shaking, mouth trembling as she nodded before I could even ask. But I still said it.
“Desire Monique Howard… will you marry me?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Yes,” she cried, voice shaking. “Yes, yes, yes.”
I slid the ring onto her finger, stood up, and wrapped her in my arms like I never planned on letting go again. Because I didn’t.
The entire gallery erupted with applause, and voices of people we knew and strangers congratulated us on the next chapter of our lives.
I felt her clutching onto me. I felt her believing in us. That’s when I noticed her eyes widen. Her breath caught. I turned around to see what she was seeing.
Her mom and dad stood at the back of the gallery, tears streaking both their faces. Her mom lucid, upright, smiling, and her father, holding her mother close like she was a miracle returned to him.
Desire gasped, stepping forward with both hands covering her mouth. It was her two biggest moments—her first full collection being displayed, and now her proposal, and the universe made sure her parents were here for both.
She turned and looked back at me like I had something to do with it. I didn’t this time, but I would’ve. Because anything that made her smile like that? I’d chase it to the end of the world.
I walked up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist as we looked at her mom and dad standing side by side. It became a full circle moment. My throat burned, not because I was overwhelmed, but because I realized something I never had before. I was finally home—not in a place, not in a building, not in a street or a code… but in her. Desire was my home.
And standing there, with her back against my chest and my arms around her, I knew for a fact… I’d burn the whole world down before I let anybody take that from me.
Five Years Later
The smellof fresh paint lingered in the air, soft, sweet, and familiar. It clung to the walls of their sunlit home like a memory that refused to fade, drifting between laughter and lullabies, between love and legacy.
Desire Bradford stood barefoot on the hardwood floor of their in-home studio with a smear of blue streaking the curve of her cheek. Her curls were tied into a messy bun as she adjusted the canvas in front of her. Behind her, messy handprints danced across the tarp, covering the floor as proof that a certain little artist had already been hard at work.
“Messiah!” she called out, smiling. “Where did you put the red paint, baby?”
From the corner of the room, a tiny voice answered with a giggle. “In my hair, Mommy!”
