His eyes are glued to mine as he lifts his champagne glass to his lips and takes a sip, and just like that, everything feels right in my world.
“I love you,” I murmur, the words rushing out of me without any rhyme or reason. I’ve never felt this way before, so desperate to reassure him when I can’t even pinpoint why.
He places his glass down at the pool’s edge and places his arms on either side of me. “I love you more, Faye.”
I reach for him hesitantly and brush his hair out of his face. “What’s going on, Dion? You seem sad, somehow. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”
He shakes his head. “Stay,” he whispers. “Just stay with me, Faye.”
I nod and study him carefully. “I had no intention of going anywhere.”
He looks away for a moment, and when his eyes find mine, there’s something in them I can’t quite read. “But if you did, if you could, where would you go? If not for me and this marriage, what would your life look like, baby?”
I bite my lip as I ponder his question. “There are a few things I’ve always wanted to do, but I… well, I just, I think we could still do them. Together.”
His eyes widen a fraction, hope dancing in them. It makes his whole face come alive, and I can’t help but smile. Is that what this is about? Is he worried about the restrictions placed on us because of our marriage?
“Tell me about your wildest dreams, Faye. I want to know.”
I place my glass down beside his and wrap my arms around his neck, my face tipped up toward the sky. “I’ve always wanted to eat gelato in Italy and throw a coin in the Trevi fountain. I already know what wish I’d make too.”
“Yeah? What would you wish for?”
I shake my head, a soft giggle escaping my lips. “I can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”
Dion reaches for me, his lips brushing over my exposed throat. I lean back against the pool’s edge to give him better access, my heart fully at ease now. “What else, my darling wife?”
“I want to dance in the rain, with you. Take the train through Europe and enjoy the scenery. You don’t like flying, so it’d be ideal, right?”
“It’d be perfect,” he whispers, his teeth grazing over my ear. I shiver and tighten my legs around his waist, my heart racing. “What else?”
“I want to see the Eiffel Tower, and the Berlin Wall. Just the idea of walking amongst the remnants of history fills me with such humility and reverence.”
“What else?” His hand makes its way in between my legs, and I moan when he teases me, his touch gentle, careful.
“I want to cycle through Amsterdam with you and kiss you at every canal we go past. We’ll be obnoxious tourists that all the locals will hate, and I’ll love every second of it.”
He chuckles, and I push his swim shorts down, desperate for something more than just his fingers. I need to feel closer to him. He’s right here with me, yet he feels so far away, and I can’t figure out why.
Dion gasps when I line him up against me, but he pulls away, his expression dark. “Would it truly be okay if I make your dreams my own? Can I insert myself into the future you envisioned for yourself, Faye?”
“Yes,” I tell him, my tone unwavering. I reach for him and push the tip in, not taking no for an answer when he clearly needs me just as desperately. “Yes, Dion. I want it all with you.”
He groans and slips into me just a fraction, holding back still. “Tell me you’re sure, Faye. Tell me you want to spend the rest of your life with me until we’re old and gray. I’ll make every single one of your dreams come true, so long as you stay with me.”
I grab his face and look into his eyes, taking in his desperation, his insecurities. “I’m sure,” I tell him. “I want you for the rest of our lives, Dion. I want it all with you.”
He bites down on his lip, his breathing shallow as he studies me, as though he’s trying to check for insincerity. He won’t find any. “I will never let you go, Faye. Not even if you beg me to.”
“Good,” I murmur. “Because I don’t want you to.”
He pushes into me, a loud moan escaping his lips as pure delight takes over his face. “You’re mine,” he groans, before pulling back almost all the way. “All mine.” He slams back into me, drawing a low, needy whimper from my throat. The need in his touch is palpable, and it fills me with equal parts confidence and relief.
“Yours,” I agree, my lips finding his. I’ll never tire of this, of us. All of my dreams fade in comparison to the reality he’s crafted — I just wish he saw it too.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Dion
I stare up at the building that houses the Windsor Staccato Foundation, feeling uneasy. I’ve steadfastly avoided stepping foot in here, but I didn’t have it in me to deny my wife when she asked me to meet her here. I could just wait outside, but I’m dying to see her. Every second waiting out here when I could be right next to her seems an unnecessary waste.
My stomach twists when I walk in, the interior still so eerily familiar. For a moment, I deceive myself into thinking that I’ll walk into one of the many classrooms to find my mother or Aunt Felicity teaching with those big smiles on their faces. This was their happy place, and it seems serendipitous that it’s now Faye’s.
I pause in the doorway when I hear the sounds of laughter and terribly played notes. Years have passed, but some things never change. I wonder what our mothers would think if they saw Faye here. Would they be proud of the way my wife has upheld their legacy?
For so long, I feared walking in here, convinced the guilt would wreck me, but instead, I find myself smiling at my beautiful wife. Faye is most beautiful when she’s seated behind a piano.
She looks up, her eyes widening when she notices me. “Dion!”
The kids all follow her gaze, their curiosity clear. A few of the little boys in her class throw me annoyed looks, and I can’t help but chuckle. I suppose Faye is a really hot teacher, so I can hardly blame them for their little crushes.
She rises from her seat, and I walk into her classroom, meeting her halfway. “I can’t believe you’re here. I thought you’d meet me outside. I didn’t think…” She snaps her lips shut, and I grin at her. My wife is fucking adorable. She’s so caring, so thoughtful. I’m not sure how I got this lucky.
“I hope I’m not interrupting?”
She shakes her head and grabs my hand as she drags me back to her piano. “Class,” she says, her smile so wide that her kids can’t help but smile in return. “This is my husband, Dion Windsor.”
A few giggles erupt amongst the girls, and I feel my cheeks heat. She’s got a variety of ages in her classroom today, and the way her teenagers are looking at me makes me decidedly uncomfortable.
“We’re learning how to play Für Elise,” she tells me. “It’s a classic, and the beginning of it is easy enough.” She turns to her class then. “Do you guys want to see my husband try? He hasn’t really played in years, but I bet he can do it. If he can play it in full, I don’t want to hear a single complaint out of you going forward!”
Cheers and taunts follow me as Faye pushes me toward her seat, the excitement in the classroom easing my discomfort. It looks like half her kids are hoping I’ll fail so she’ll assign them an easier piece, and the other half wants to see me succeed, likely purely on her behalf.
Faye looks at me when I stare at the keys absentmindedly. “Please?” she murmurs, her smile slipping just a fraction.
My heart skips a beat, and I nod. There isn’t much I won’t do to protect that smile of hers, but I doubt she realizes just what she’s asking of me. Or perhaps she does, and she simply knows I need a push.
I begin to play Beethoven’s iconic piece, my fingers feeling stiffer than they used to, yet the melody flows out of me with such magical ease that it takes my breath away. I’ve become so used to playing drunk, as an outlet for my despair, that I forgot how amazing it feels to truly lose yourself in music when you’re perfectly lucid. My mind empties, every single one of my worries melting away, until there’s nothing but Faye’s hand on my shoulder and the tune she asked me to play. She has no idea what she does to me, what she does for me.
The kids all clap excitedly when the final note rings, and Faye looks into my eyes with such deep affection that I find myself unable to look away. I’m so overcome with love for this woman that I’m not sure there’s anything I wouldn’t do for her.
“I haven’t played like that in over twenty years,” I admit, a hint of disbelief rushing through me. I forgot how exhilarating it can be.
Faye’s eyes shimmer with something I can’t quite define. “I’m proud of you,” she whispers. “When we composed together, it seemed like you missed playing, but I was sure you’d say no.”
“I couldn’t,” I murmur, shaking my head.
“Why?”
I reach for her and gently brush her hair out of her face. “Because you asked me to play.”
“Just like that?”