Page 69 of The Sting of Love
“My God, this sounds serious, Lurlene.”
“We will see sugar. This southern belle is one tough cookie to crack so we’ll definitely see. I’d love to meet your man properly too, not naked in your room.”
My cheeks flush. “Let’s focus on you right now.” I don’t have the strength to tell her that it’s really over between Donny and me. Not again.
Last time I talked about it I didn’t say much. I said enough for her to get the gist and she filled in the blanks. This time my heart is more full.
“Okay sweet girl. I’ll let you get back to your man.” She chuckles. “Speak to you later?”
“Yes, for sure.”
“Bye, bye now.”
“Bye.”
We hang up. I set the phone on the night stand and gaze out the window. I find myself doing that a lot. Just looking out to the vast expanse of the deep blue sea.
I don’t want to stay in this room again today like a petulant child who’s been sent away to wait for their punishment. Or in my case my fate. I don’t want to sink into despair either so I get up, shower for a really long time and change into a t-shirt and a pair of joggers from the stash of clothes that was left for me.
It’s all the same sort of stuff. I assume Donny must have gone into the first shop, or the most convenient and grabbed a handful of clothes. At least he got my size right. He even got my bra size right and I usually go in for a fitting. I suppose he spent enough time with my body to know what I needed.
God… what the hell am I really supposed to do? I’m like a butterfly, flittering from one emotion to the next, bouncing back and forth, except there’s been one constant the whole time no matter what I’ve felt. That’s my feelings for him. They’ve remained unchanged.
That conversation we had this morning was so intense for me. He was serious. I know how to spot things like that now. He really was serious. As much as he wanted me he fought against desire and won. I was helpless and I would have allowed him to take me again because I wanted him so much.
I set my wet hair in a ponytail and make my way downstairs. The first thing I notice is that the front door is wide open and so is the back door at the end of the long wide corridor. It leads right outside. For the first time I see the beach and it looks amazing. The beautiful weather is stunning, like last night’s storm never happened. There’s still a gentle breeze moving through the fan palm trees but nothing as vicious as the gusts that had swept through yesterday.
Drawn to it I head that way, but stop mid stride when I see the door open to the living room that was closed.
Walking in my gaze lands on a series of elegant pictures on the wall. They’re all of a woman. A very beautiful dark haired woman who looked like she just stepped out of a fairytale.
They’re all of her here at this house and by the beach. They’re at least ten of them on the wall in varying sizes. The one I like the most is the one that shows her walking toward the sea with her hair fluttering out in the wind like a cape. She’s wearing a white dress that looks stark against her sun-kissed skin.
It’s so striking for the emotion it carries. The freedom of being somewhere serene.
I look ahead to the floor to ceiling glass windows and see the path in the picture. It was there, just ahead of me.
Looking back to the pictures on the wall I see a resemblance that tells me the woman must be Donny’s mother. He looks exactly like his father, but he has his mother’s features. Her nose, the shape of her eyes and that beauty that captivates me is in her too.
I wonder what happened to her and how she died.
She seemed so gentle and peaceful, like the kind of woman that appreciated nature and landscapes the way I do.
I turn back to the scene before me and gaze out to the beach. It looks so nice from this side. Not like the parts I ventured to yesterday.
“She used to like the sea here too…” Armand says behind me, startling me.
I bring my hand to my chest and wince.
“Sorry Bellissima, I did not mean to startle you,” he adds.
“It’s okay. I…” my voice trails off as I suddenly realize this might look like I’m snooping around and possibly trying to escape again. “I wasn’t trying to leave again. I promise.”
He smiles and raises the bag he carries. I just noticed it. “Willow, if I thought you’d be heading out again today the doors would be locked up tight like they have been. That was to keep you safe. Opening up the place is to show you that you are not a prisoner here. I thought you’d feel less trapped.”
I smile at that. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“This is for you,” he says holding up the bag. It’s big and wide.
