Page 62 of The Sting of Love
I glance at the window, at the shadows dancing against the night sky. In them the tempestuous storm still rages, worse than earlier, and the waves in the distance crash against the rocks.
I could be at the bottom of the sea now.Dead.
It’s such a scary thought. I was about to drown when Donny saved me. The sea would have literally claimed me.
My throat suddenly goes dry so I turn to get some water on the nightstand but see that the jug is empty. I forgot that I finished it. Armand brought it up earlier. I should refill it so if Donny wakes he can have some.
Raising to my feet I take the tray with the jug and the glasses and head down to the kitchen.
Armand is in there making what smells like some sort of chocolate mixture. He’s standing over the stove mixing it with a wooden spoon in a little pot. He’s wearing a dressing gown and has his reading glasses on too. He gives me a warm smile when he sees me.
“My dear I was just about to check on you,” he says.
“Thanks, the water finished and I thought I’d come down to refill it.”
“I’ll take care of that,” he says, taking the tray from me. “Is Donny still asleep?” Worry fills his eyes.
“Yeah. He’s still sleeping. Armand, do you think maybe we should go to the hospital?”
“By morning I’ll know. I think he’s more tired than anything.”
“I’m sure my drama didn’t help.”
“Don’t think about it,” he replies.
He hasn’t said anything to me about what I did yet and I don’t think he will, although I sense he wants to. It would be easier if he ripped into me too the way Donny did. After all Donny is his son, and my carelessness could have had worse results.
“I’m really sorry I tried to escape,” I offer, feeling guilty again.
“I can see that. There’s no need to make you feel worse than you already do.”
“Thanks, I just… feel awful that he got hurt.”
“Bella, my son is a very strong person. Tough as they come and used to battling all sorts. I think he’s going to be okay. He hasn’t rested much over the last few days so it’s expected that he’d be sleeping for as long as he is.” He gives me a reassuring nod that makes me feel slightly better. “Come, sit with me for a while and have some of this.”
“What is it? It smells delicious,” I answer, returning his smile. This is the first that I’ve felt comfortable around him.
“It’s Belgian chocolate. Raw Belgian chocolate. I like making hot chocolate from it. It helps calm the soul.” He nods.
He takes a cup from the cupboard and pours some of the mixture inside. It’s so thick and creamy it slurps into the cup. I already know it has to be super fattening but since I haven’t eaten much all day I think I can cut myself some slack.
The smell is even more prominent, making my mouth water. I take a sip when Armand gives it to me and oh my goodness it really is delicious.
“Hmmm, oh wow. I love it.” It doesn’t taste like any Belgian chocolate I’ve ever had in the States.
“I am glad. My little girls used to love drinking that with cookies. Unfortunately we’ve run out of eggs so I couldn’t make any.”
“You bake cookies?” I ask. It intrigues me because he looks like a tough guy who would be more at home in a Bruce Willis film as opposed to in the kitchen making hot chocolate and cookies.
“I do bake, and so does Donny. My wife made sure we could all bake. Anything baked is instant stress relief.”
“She was right.”
“Yes, she was always right. She lived her life with so much positivity. A very wise woman who was beautiful on the inside as much as her outer appearance.”
I want to ask what happened to her but the flicker of sadness in his eyes tells me I shouldn’t. His reference to her in the past tense gives me the feeling that she died, or she’d be here too.
“That’s beautiful,” I tell him. “She seems like a great person.”
