Page 63 of Royal Pain
“Come on. Let’s get inside.”
I’m so used to controlling my emotions. As a member of the Royal Family it’s required. You can’t be like normal people who cry when they’re sad or yell when they’re pissed. There’s this expectation that you should be more in command of your feelings.
We walk inside and when she looks at me with those big blue eyes, I see her deep compassion. All the guards I’ve protected my heart with vanish. I let go. I’m crying. There’s no holding it back now. The torrent of grief rains down. It doesn’t rattle her. Arms surround my neck, she pulls me close, until my head rests on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out the words. “I’ll stop in a minute.”
“Don’t apologize for your sadness. It’s the right response.”
I hear the quiver in her voice. She’s crying too, and that lets me lower the remaining walls. My tears are real. They come from my soul, and are the result of such a deep heartbreak it’s indescribable. My brother is dead. The harsh words rise in me.
“Tarik! He’s gone, Belinda! Oh God!” I cry to a god I’m doubting exists.
She pulls me closer, kissing my cheek. “I know my love, it’s the most horrible thing that could have happened. I’m here with you. I’ll hold you and love you through the pain.”
“Fucking God! What kind of fucking creator would do this to such a good man?”
Instead of trying to prove the existence of God, she lets me rant. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“No, it doesn’t. My voice finds its strength again. The crying slowly abates until it settles to quiet.
She holds my face in her hands. “It’s good to let yourself feel. You’ve been in control of your emotions long enough. You’re always holding back a little.”
“That’s why I love being in New York so much. I can call out a guy who’s acting the fool and not worry about everyone knowing about it. I think I’d die without those random moments of privacy.”
I take her hand and lead her toward the bedroom. She tosses her purse on the chair just inside the door.
We undress quietly. She unbuttons my shirt and I unzip her dress. Shoes get kicked off, and her jewelry is put atop the table on her side of the bed. She notices the picture I framed of us on safari, and smiles at the memory. We look so happy in each other’s presence. And we are. Here in this bedroom, out in the brush, just talking or making love. Hell, we don’t have to do a damn thing to know that if we’re together, it’s a good day.
Her bra drops just as I push down my boxer briefs. Now there’s no other thoughts in the way of what’s right before me. What I see here is enough. Her beautiful body can heal me. I know it. She gets into the bed and throws back the covers on my side.
“Get your naked self in here,” she says.
I lose my watch and crawl in after her. Ohhh. Skin on skin. The scent of perfume and the feel of breasts. Her pretty feet rub against mine, toes wiggling.Hold me tight. Never let me go, love.It’s everything. I get lost in her kiss and find my center. It’s Belinda.
Something intangible passes between us. Saying it’s a feeling is an understatement. She makes me think of the future. Knowing her even makes sense of the past. And there’s a feeling of belonging I’ve never felt before. In every way I’m hers, she’s mine. And that sort of love creates a third being. Us. It’s clear I’ve never understood the real meaning of the word. Who knew it was a spiritual concept? She’s the light that shows me the way home.
It’s not of this world.
And suddenly the truth surfaces. Love is the strongest argument that God is real.
