Page 31 of The One
She appears so unassuming, sitting there in the dark, yet she’s effortlessly talented. I should buy her new strings.
Like before, the combination of her voice and the guitar settles something deep inside me. I can’t remember the last time I was this at peace.
The constant noise in my head, all the demands pulling me in a hundred directions, fades away, leaving me with a rare, quiet warmth.
But the song ends too soon. Mariella rises to her feet, brushing off her skirt before scanning the area around her.
My heart races as I push myself closer against the trunk of the tree. If she saw me now, crouched here in the shadows, I’d look like a stalker. And the last thing I want is to scare her.
So I remain still, watching her retreating figure as she walks back toward the house, her steps steady and graceful in the dim light.
I stay hidden under the old oak, for God knows how long, replaying the sound of her voice in my mind.
Everything seems different now. Calmer, softer, like she’s left a piece of herself behind in the air.
Hmm, I could have listened to her all night.
Chapter Eleven
Mateo
The faint glow of moonlight streams through the open window as I return to my room, bathing everything in soft shadows.
I place the guitar back in its case, feeling much better after losing myself in my music for a little while.
It’s an old instrument, its wood worn smooth in places, the varnish dulled from countless hours of play. There are faint scuff marks on the edges, and just enough indentation on the fretboard to hint at the songs it’s played over the years. Whoever owned this guitar must have loved it.
Feeling more settled within myself, I change into my nightgown. But I hate it.
The delicate white lace negligee is a harsh reminder that I was meant to wear it on my wedding night. But it’s the only thingmammapacked for me to sleep in.
I catch my reflection in the mirror. I sure look like a virginal offering, one Father was all too happy to sacrifice on his altar of self-glorification.
Instinctively, my eyes drop to my ring finger. Empty.
I really did escape.
But I can’t sleep in this. I feel too exposed, like if Renaldo stormed through this door I’d still be his.
I rip it off and rummage through my suitcase. There has to be a t-shirt in here somewhere.
Happier with my choice, I pull back the blankets and slip under the covers of this huge bed.
This bed would be perfect for a slumber party with my sisters. There’s so much room to sprawl out. We only did it twice, back whenmammaand Father traveled together, which was rare.
The five of us crammed into Isa’s bed, squished together like sardines in a can. I woke up with Ari’s elbow in my face and Sienna’s knee digging into my stomach, but despite all that, it was fun. We laughed ourselves to sleep and the chaos actually made it better.
I hope they’re all fast asleep and not restless like me. And I hopemammais okay. My stomach tightens as I imagine the wrath awaiting her.
Father has always had a temper. To those of influence and power, he wears a mask of patience and wisdom. The perfect picture of control.
But to those he considers beneath him, his own family included, that mask slips. He’s quick to lash out, his words sharp and biting, and when his anger flares, sometimes more than just words are thrown.
But Father is the last person I want to think about. My mind quickly shifts gears and conjures up the image of the one man I love to fantasize about.
Yes, that’s so much better.
I’m under his roof. He’s somewhere in this house. So close, yet so far away.Well, he doesn’t have to be, does he?I close my eyes and imagine his warm brown ones locking with mine. A spark of desire is there… for me.
