Page 72 of Saint

“I’m proud of you, son.”

Reluctantly, my gaze shifted to my father, confirming his presence. With ease, I returned to my prior task of observing my heartbeat outside my chest.

“For what?”

“All of this,” my dad emphasized. “You have something meaningful to pass down to your child that you claimed you would never have.” I didn’t need to look at him to know he was motioning to the space surrounding us. “And her,” he spoke, acknowledging Victoria.

“None of this would have been possible without her,” I stated plainly, feeling my limbs call out to Victoria.

My whole world shifted the day we met. All the things I never knew I desired were made possible the day we crossed paths on Komodo Island. I was about to be someone’s father. Of course, I had my share of concerns surrounding what parenthood would look like between me and Victoria, but I wasn’t backing away from what we’d begun developing. I was someone’s husband. I had a family. That shit seemed so unreal, but it was as real as it could get.

“I see you all together for a stretch,” my father spoke, invading my thoughts. “She won’t be going anywhere, and neither will you. You’ve managed to catch the same illness your mother and I possess.”

“What’s that?” I asked as I watched Victoria commence a slow walk in our direction. Even pregnant, she managed to look as graceful and sexy as ever.

“You can’t keep away from one another. The desperation to have her near is unfathomable. You communicate heavily through physical touch. It’s like what Babyface was saying. The whip appeal. The minute I get ahold of Sarah, I–”

“–Okay. I get it,” I countered, not wanting to hear more. The lewd details of my parents’ sex life were unsolicited. It was no secret that the pair were freaks even after decades of marriage. They didn’t hide their desire for one another.

My dad spoke a mouthful, especially considering I didn’t care much for anyone touching me besides Victoria. Already, I’d made plans to wander upstairs to one of the classrooms with her and indulge in a quickie while our guests remained oblivious to our actions.

The soiree was simply an introduction of the community center to the neighborhood. There was music blaring, games being played, a bouncy house outside, and counselors were on site to register families in need of their services. Because we were a nonprofit, everything was free of charge.

As Victoria drew closer, my heart commenced to its usual breakdance, and anticipation threaded my veins. Understanding my helplessness, my father patted my back and shook his head before he disappeared to find my mother.

“Beauty,” I spoke as she drew near.

“Everything turned out wonderfully, don’t you agree?” She gushed as she palmed her belly on approach.

“Yeah, it did,” I nodded.

The Miller Community and Recreational Center had at least twelve autistic children registered for services that we would soon be offering at the start of the week, and there were adults seeking therapy to obtain a possible diagnosis. Late diagnosis of autism wasn’t unheard of, especially considering myself and how I’d stumbled upon the information. I anticipated more people would seek out our services as we established ourselves in the community.

Victoria stepped back from designing as much to focus on the center. She hired a creative director to take over Demure’s upcoming seasons until she felt the need to step back in. The freeing of her schedule gave her more time to rest as she grew our first child. A perpetual busy bee, she still popped into the office every few weeks. Assaulted with the scent of lavender, I watched as she closed the space between us.

“How are you feeling, Saint?”

“Like we need to check on one of the classrooms real quick. How are you feeling, Beauty?” Freeing a hand from my pocket, I pulled her closer.

“Like, we should have done that hours ago,” she grinned.

End.

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