Page 129 of Secrets, Lies and Love

For me, it’s a step further.

I’m not just about to be forever united with the love of my life. I feel like I fought a real war to get here.

There were so many obstacles, tears, passion, fear, forgiveness, new beginnings, that I feel like a victor, finally going to get my prize. Not one that someone handed to me but one I fought for.

I deserve everything good I achieved.

I deserve it, and that’s it.

As I walk down the aisle with Joseph, Silas, and Soraya leading the way, I know that with every step I take I am closer to my dreams of having a family andbelonging. Not needing to feel ashamed for loving and wanting to be loved.

Since I was a child, I got used to apologizing because I was indoctrinated to be like that. Raised by a stepmother who didn’tlove me, a father who didn’t know what to do with me, most of the time, I got used to being forgotten and ignored.

After I started living with Dionysus, he taught me that, if I want something, I must say it, fight for it, not be afraid to state my desires.

He taught me that if I want one more spoonful of candy, one more kiss, one more hug or orgasm, I don’t have to pretend that everything is okay.

I was reluctant to expose myself. It’s not comfortable.

People judge us, comment, curse us, unlike when we live in the shadows.

The thing is that they are no longer welcome in my life.

I don’t want the dark, or even the secret places anymore. I want the light, the warmth of the sun on my skin. I want to be covered in happiness.

And now, as I walk with my head held high, trying to hold back tears as I see the emotion on the face of the man who was born to be mine, I know that all the missteps I’ve made, the tears I’ve cried since childhood, the unfulfilled relationship with Keith—because on my part it was platonic—everything followed the natural route to bring me here.

To him, my arrogant Greek. My dominant and stubborn love.

Proud and sometimes cruel.

But completely mine.

“You’re smiling,” he says when I reach him, almost in front of the altar.

He forgets the protocols, the rehearsals we did, and kisses me, probably giving the ceremonialist some gray hairs.

“Why wouldn’t I smile?” I say when we pull away to breathe. “I’m inside my own fairy tale.”

“Cinderella?”

“No. Princess Cecily. My story is unique. I wouldn’t wish the beginning of it on anyone. The ending, though, I wouldn’t trade for anything.”

Cecily

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

Months later

NEW YORK

“Babyeeeeeeee!”Joseph shouts, pointing to the “photograph,” actually an ultrasound image that we framed and placed in our unborn son’s room.

Dionysus, who was adjusting a painting on the wall, looks back and smiles when he sees his enthusiasm. “That’s right, my little man. A brother for you,” he says.

“Bawder!” Joseph repeats and then forgets the “conversation” and goes back to playing with the trucks.

“Or lots of little brothers for him.” I struggle to stand up from the rocking chair, my belly making it impossible to rise gracefully.

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