Page 65 of Last Shot at Love

I would have liked a romantic dinner with my beautiful wife, wooing her… and then taking her back to our room to ravish her until sunrise.

But I caught the slight tremble in her hand as she reached for her wineglass and knew that silly bantering and laughter would help to settle her anxiety… even if it was at my expense.

“My wife wants you to stay, so I guess you can stay.” Grabbing the wine bottle, I poured a bit more into my glass and leaned back to watch my wife.

I tapped my nails on the desk and stared at my laptop. Cerulean had gone for his morning swim, and I’d decided to check my emails. But I was struggling to focus, because my mind kept drifting to Cerulean.

Besides, there was nothing that needed my attention. Sara had everything under control, and had even been handling Timothy’s whiny emails with a patience I envied. I made a note to give her a raise and schedule a long overdue conversation with her about the potential of taking on a new position with more responsibility.

Opening a new document, I wrote an email to one of the few high school friends I’d remained in casual contact with. I presented an idea that had come to me this morning and explained that I thought it could be mutually beneficial for both of us. I clicked send and received an excited reply less than three minutes later.

I forwarded the message to Sara, describing my plan and asking her to organize it for the day we returned to Boston.

Clicking back to my business email account, I noticed a couple of new reports waiting to be looked over, but I realized in a moment of brilliant clarity I didn’t need to read them.

I’d hired and trained a very competent team who poured over these documents and would send me a summary in a single report with any important things they felt I should see. Maybe it was time I trusted my team a little more and let them do the jobs they were paid to do.

I looked out at the sea, and my heart ached. Cerulean was out there, and with each day we spent together, I found it harder to be away from him. He was becoming my entire world at a frighteningly fast rate.

It was confusing, and turning back to my laptop, I pulled up a website I’d bookmarked. A therapist for vampires.

I’d never wanted to admit there was something broken inside me, and so every time I’d thought about reaching out to the kind-looking therapist, I chickened out.

This time, I gathered my courage and typed out a lengthy email, giving a condensed version of my life. I finished by asking the question that had been burning in my mind for three days.

My finger hit send and I closed the laptop. Pacing around the room, I chewed my lip and worked through the chaos of this week.

The sharp ring of my phone nearly gave me a heart attack, and I quickly checked the screen. Seeing the therapist’s name, I answered.

For the next hour, she patiently answered questions I never thought I’d find the courage to voice. When the call ended, I stared, unseeing, at the wall.

My heart felt light, and the confusion had dissipated. Happiness and excitement were bubbling inside me as though I were a shaken soda drink.

I decided it would be fun to snorkel for a few hours. Who knew? I might even bump into my husband, and could tell him what I’d learned.

Hurrying to the storage bench on the patio, I pulled out a pair of fins, a mask, and a snorkel. I splashed around in the aquamarine waters, following schools of brightly colored fish and enjoying the sun, when a boat got a bit too close to me.

Lifting my head from the water, I was surprised to find my father and brother staring down at me.

“Beryl—” My father began.

“I have nothing to say to either of you. Leave,” I hissed, flashing my fangs.

It was the vampire equivalent of throwing the middle finger at another vampire, but I didn’t care anymore.

Being a good daughter had gotten me nowhere. So I saw no reason to continue to allow myself to be mistreated.

I put my face back in the water. Ignoring them completely, I swam in the opposite direction.

CRACK!

Something smashed into the back of my head.

My body went limp and darkness swallowed me.

“It’s forty feet here. That should be deep enough,” a disembodied voice drifted into my foggy skull.

“Do you have the weights attached?” a second voice screamed.

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