Page 122 of Violent Attraction

A smile is what it takes for her to get up from the spot on the couch and come over to me.

“What are you thinking about over here?” she asks as she comes to stand in front me, a hand landing on my chest.

“I was thinking about how happy you all look.” I say, placing my hand over hers and holding her hand to me.

Isabella smiles at me and turns to look back to her family and watches for a few seconds as Leo and Camila bicker.

“I guess we are happy.” She says, turning back to me, her fingers playing with my shirt. “Are you happy Santiago?”

That question takes me by surprise.

I don’t think anyone has asked me that in a very long time. I don’t even remember what my answer was when it was asked.

Am I happy?

I don’t think I’ve been happy in a very long time.

The only times that I have ever felt happy, content, was when I was around Isabella. Those four years when it was just the two of us were some of the best years of my life.

Now that I know I’m not going to lose her, the years to come will most likely not compare to those four years.

Does that make me happy?

Anything that consists of Isabella by my side, with her smile in my head, and her trust to take care of her heart, makes me happy.

“Yeah, I’m happy. As long as you are here with me. I will always be happy.”

Isabella stand up on her tiptoes and places a kiss on my lips.

“Good. Because you deserve every ounce of happiness.”

I lean down and place a kiss of my own on her lips.

“I love you, you know that?”

She nods. “I know and I love you too.”

Isabella Morales is mine and I will love her until my death and beyond.

34

I will forever be surprised when someone buys one of my designs.

I’m a low-level designer that sells out of a small boutique in Austin, so I don’t sell many, but when I do I want to jump up in happiness.

Right now though, I want to have a firework show, jump up and down and scream at every single person that I encounter because I just sold every single one of my designs that is currently in the boutique.

Every. Single. One.

Twenty-six of my dresses are on the floor right now and I sold every single design.

I’m trying really hard to keep my excitement at a bare minimum.

“Okay, your total comes out to eight thousand, four hundred and fifty dollars.” I tell the girl that just bought my dresses.

And I say girl because she must be a few years younger than. And can I ask how someone has that much money? Is that being too nosy?

She pulls out a black American Express from her black YSL bag and hands it to me.

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