I arrive at the marina wounded beyond repair. I don’t remember much, as I’m still floating, nerves atwitter. Time eludes me. I have a strong recollection of crying at some point. And not just any crying; bawling my eyes out, sputtering out breaths, boo-hooing, gulping in air—completely sobbing. I vaguely recall pouring myself a glass of Mauve—now that it’s hit the home-shelf of A.D.—perhaps two. There is a little memory of me grabbing a box of tissues as the salty streams of self-pity came running down my face. Yes, I’m upset by how my visit to Erin had turned out, yet, in all honesty, I’d experienced a huge degree of disappointment in myself for being so affected by it.
I’ve been making great strides with my newfound resolve of inner-strength. And still my adapted mission of Regaining the old Rayna Resolve has been a monumental failure. How could I have allowed myself to get so upset by the words of someone who thinks so little of me is beyond me. Still, when I think of her logic, the way she gave her distorted estimation of me, it makes sense. I made a horrible decision in accepting that money from Sebastian. And it’s still haunting me. But I didn’t use Michelle. I was not leaching off her family. I haven’t acquired a Sugar Daddy. I did not influence Michelle to behave the way that she did on video—God, I could kick her for that! I am not wrong for Erin.
Not that I need affirmation of any of this, but it would be nice to talk with someone about this. Someone who knows me. Clearly and painfully, Michelle is not an option. I no longer have to my go-to person, my sounding board.
My body shivers.
Out of nowhere, I feel a sense of comfort. This perceptiveness stems from an abrupt reminder of his essence. It’s so potent that I can swear to smelling his enthralling and all-consuming fragrance. It permeates even my subconscious.
He’s my sanctuary, my home-base. He’s my duvet against the cold world, a soother. Azmir is my lover, my partner. He is my friend. My home. He’s enduring and compassionate. Loving beyond what I deserve. He’s understanding and keen to my temperaments, my needs. He’s my enforcer for whatever obstacles that has presented since I’ve known him.
He’s fallible. He’s beautiful. He’s infuriating. He’s mine.
Mine.
He’s betrayed me with Dawn. Lied to me about Tara’s baby. But he’s still with me, sticking it out. Yes… He’s caused me to hurt, but isn’t that the cycle of love? The hazard of love? Loved ones will hurt you and disappoint you. However, it is not reflective of their commitment to you. People fail and fall. But the best way to demonstrate love is to return it unconditionally, and that’s what I’ve purposed in my heart to do with Azmir. For Azmir. For me.
My love for him is so palpable that I can feel him in his absence. I can smell his natural fragrance, the very one secreting from his pores although he’s miles away. My connection to him is that electrifying.
So cogent that I can even hear his voice, “Awwww…Rayna,” in almost a distant whisper.
I can feel the electric pulses from his touch…from so far away. My skin prickles all over.
“Baby…” His velvety voice causes those trustee currents to course through me.
Then, I can feel the heat of his hard body as though it was next to me, emanating comfort and solace.
Being raised in the air jolts my subconscious, impelling me to an awakening. My eyes open but marginally; they won’t widen for me at all. I feel the swelling in my face just above my cheeks. But what I can’t miss is the blinding beauty of his face. His classical features are like a light blazing into my corneas, dilating my pupils. Am I dreaming, or is Azmir really here, at the marina?
I gaze motionless into his brown orbs. I don’t know what signs I need, but I wait to learn if I’m still vacillating or if Azmir has really returned from Seattle.
He doesn’t speak as he moves me from the sitting area of the master suite to the bed. It takes a few seconds to discard the decorative pillows. And when he’s done, he gently settles me into the beddings like precious porcelain. Any other time I would scorn him for being so delicate with me. I would spew viciousness to disturb his mood. But not today. Today I will receive his comfort.
Once I’m adjusted in bed, Azmir scoots back on his haunches from the floor. “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”
I shake my head.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
I shake my head again.
At a loss, Azmir stands directly at the side of the bed with his fists resting on his hips. He’s wearing a black suit, tailored to his glorious frame. Even clad in dress pants, his thighs presents muscular. Here, in this moment, for more reasons than one, Azmir is divine. Even his voice lulls me.
“How can I help, baby? Well, what can I do for you?” he asks regretfully.
I want to tell him how much of a sedative his presence alone is. I want to jump up, kiss him on the lips, and ask about his day and if I can warm his dinner. I want to ask why the change in schedule and is he okay. I want to lose myself in his arms and tell him how horrible my day had ended. Share with him Amber’s wrath and cruel summary of my existence. But I’m depleted of energy, even of my appetite. So empty I can’t speak, though I need him to know what I’m in need of.