Noah
Two weeks have gone by since my ordeal on the fifth floor of the construction site and I feel relieved that I lived to see those two weeks. So much could have happened when I launched myself toward her and I’m still thankful for how lucky we were.
Angelina, as it turns out, had no intention of harming me, or herself—at least not that day. She eventually confessed to Jim that she’d paid a fortune to hire a couple of guys to cause trouble on the site. Ramon had been sad, angry and filled with disappointment. He’d come to trust the two men she’d paid…they’d worked for the McKenzies for close to eighteen months before anything untold started to happen.
And he still had a lot of anger toward Angelina’s father. Even though he had nothing to do with the trouble. Brendan Griffin was responsible for filling Angelina’s head with lies, which he finally confessed once he realized what his only living child had been doing.
For myself, I can’t help feeling bad for the family. The loss of a loved one is never easy, but to be partly responsible for what happened that led up to the accident, isn’t something I’d ever want to live with.
My only thoughts now are to move forward with Ramon.
We’ve been living in our own bubble for these past couple of weeks and I like it. The coziness I feel with him, and being here in the cabin, is tremendous. I know we have to leave soon, like in four days to head into the city, but the one thing keeping me going is the thought that we’ll be coming back for good in the not too distant future. We’ll be commuters but I can hardly wait.
Waking up every morning beside Ramon makes my heart feel lighter. I don’t think I’ll ever properly be able to describe the feeling it gives me knowing that he’s there. Knowing that at the end of the day, we’ll be going home to each other regardless of where the day takes us fills my heart with happiness.
That’s what I want for the rest of my life, and it’s time I admitted my feelings to Ramon. Keeping them buried is a worry that I don’t need on my mind and Ramon deserves to hear it.
Over dinner, I’ll bring the subject up and pray that it’s exactly what Ramon wants. He woke up this morning full of something. His emotions today have been one of worry, surprise, excitement and joy before they go back to worry. I’d be lying if I said this doesn’t bother me.
The dinner he’s putting the finishing touches to in the kitchen is going to be eaten on the back porch. The table has been set with the best china and candles that I could find in the house. I’m hoping that the ambiance will help us talk about the permanent. A romantic dinner between two lovers really means he wants to talk, right? He certainly doesn’t need to feed me to get into my jeans or vice-versa. So my heart is hoping that very soon we are going to be laying our intentions out on the table for each other to deal with.
“Dinner’s ready,” Ramon shouts, breaking into my thoughts.
My heart thumps in my chest with fear of what this evening’s outcome will be.
Deep in my heart, I realize I’m being stupid. Ramon’s talked about permanent more than once so why should wanting marriage fill me with dread at his answer?
Shaking my head to rid myself of my stupid thoughts, I walk around the porch to the back and smile in delight when I spot the table laden with pasta, salad and bread rolls. A bottle of crisp, white wine is uncorked and ready to be poured. The candles are lit and my handsome guy is standing to the side of the table looking nervous as hell.
Wanting to put Ramon at ease, I smile as I move toward him.
Holding my hand out, Ramon wraps his around mine and allows me to pull him close.
Our lips meet in a soft kiss as I rub up and down along the buttons on his shirt. That’s another thing. Ramon asked me to wear trousers and a shirt tonight. No shorts and naked chests.
Ramon looks good enough to eat in his pale blue shirt and dark blue trousers, which is why I have to force myself to pull away from his mouth.
Ignoring the fire in his eyes, I drop into my chair and patiently wait for Ramon to join me. When he does, we start to eat in silence.
For the first time since I’ve known Ramon, the silence is uncomfortable. Usually we can go hours in silence doing our own thing and it’s comfortable, but this feels strained.
I feel the glances that Ramon keeps giving me and it’s like he wants to say something but can’t find the words.
It’s like a small child wanting to make a confession but fearing the reaction from the parents.
Eating the dinner before me, I manage to stay quiet until we place our cutlery down, and then I can’t stay quiet any longer.
“Spit it out,” I abruptly demand.
I try to appear relaxed when I’m anything but. My hands are gripping my thighs for dear life.