“Do you think it’s been easy for me to push you away? That I haven’t wanted to make you mine when I know no matter what, you always will be. All I’ve ever wanted to do is protect you and keep you safe. Even if it cost me having you in my life.”
She walked over, stopping a few inches from me. Placing her hand over my heart. “I’m safe, okay? You got what you wanted. I let you go. Please, Damien, now it’s your turn to do the same.”
I held my head up higher, maintaining my strong composure. Knowing it was what she needed. When all I wanted to do was fall apart. For the first time, I watched her turn her back on me and walk away. Conscious of the fact that this turn in events was what it was going to take for her to truly not be in my life.
She needed to leave me because I would’ve never been able to leave her.
And that was the reality of our love story.
I picked Evita up, carrying her over the threshold of our honeymoon suite.
“Damien! Put me down!” she laughed, loving every second of our sacred day.
We were married at six o’clock in the evening at the Cathedral of San Cristóbal, Havana. Where there couldn’t have been more than twenty people in attendance. Emilio and Rosarío were of course, sitting front and center on the groom’s side for the nuptials. My father was on guard with Pedro and a few others at the entrances, much to my disapproval. I didn’t invite the fucking bastard. Amongst the guests were some acquaintances of mine from school that I made throughout almost six years. The bride’s side included a few of Evita’s friends and some other random patrons. The rest of the pews were occupied with colleagues of Emilio’s, whom he insisted needed to be invited for negotiating tactics. How my wedding turned into a political debate was beyond me.
During the ceremony, my eyes kept shifting to the first pew. Waiting for the one person I truly wanted to see appear. Even though I knew she couldn’t be there for obvious reasons, something told me she wouldn’t have come even if she could have. I hadn’t seen Amira since the last time she walked away from me, well over a year ago. I respected her request and officially let her go. Making sure I kept my distance at all costs, but continued to make sure she stayed off Emilio’s radar. I still stopped by Rosarío’s every once in a while, to catch up with her. Doing my best to avoid the times when Amira was around every time I showed up. I stopped asking about her after a few months, having no idea what she was up to, other than she still lived with Rosarío, and as far as I knew, she had no intentions of moving out. Even though it had been over half a year since she legally became an adult, turning eighteen.
She was never far from my mind, and I knew she never would be. One day while shopping, I couldn’t fucking help myself, I bought her a doll for old time’s sake with a card on her birthday that said, “This reminded me of better times. Happy birthday, Mu?eca.” She didn’t thank me for it, not that I expected her to.
I couldn’t believe I was almost twenty-eight years old and married to a woman who’d become such a huge part of my life. I threw my new bride on the bed, hovering above her. She watched me with a greedy stare as I removed my suit jacket and loosened my tie. Throwing them both on the bed next to her. She grabbed the long piece of silk I had just removed, holding it out in front of her and arching an eyebrow. Her eyes followed the movement of my hands while I was unbuttoning my dress shirt, pulling it out from my slacks to wear it open. I placed my hands in my pockets, not ready to give her what she wanted.
At least, not until she begged for it.
“Who said that was yours?” I asked, grinning.
“I thought what yours is mine now. Isn’t that the way marriage goes?”
“You mean, what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine. Including you.”
She sat up on her knees, throwing my tie around my neck. “Does that mean you’re not mine then?”
“I’m yours.” I leaned forward, slowly running my lips against hers. Tempting her with my tongue.
“I love you, Damien.”
“I know.” Even after all this time it was still hard for me to tell her I loved her, but she knew it though.
She pecked my lips. “What do we do now?”
“You bring your ass over here.” I kissed her.
“What’s wrong with my ass?”
“It’s not on my fucking cock.”
She smiled wide against my lips. “Oh, it’s going to be that kind of night.”
“We both know how this night is going to end. With my tongue on your clit and your pussy sliding down my dick.”
“Well, if that’s the case, then let me slip into something a little more comfortable, I bought for tonight.”
I suddenly shoved her backward onto the bed, crawling my way up her body. “Try to leave. I fucking dare you.”
I spent the next few hours fucking my wife. Consummating our marriage on every surface in the suite. Making a mental note to leave the cleaning service a hefty tip for the cleanup. She was lucky I took mercy upon her, allowing her a break to go shower. I heard the water running, and I resisted the urge to go fuck her in there too. Instead, I went and grabbed our bags from my car, setting hers on the floor in the bathroom when I returned. She said some shit about wanting to slip into something she knew I would supposedly like.
I threw my bag on the bed, wanting to change into something other than this stuffy fucking tuxedo. But first I wanted a drink. I walked over to the mini-bar and poured myself a glass of bourbon and my bride a flute of champagne. After twenty minutes of waiting for Evita to emerge, I decided to get some work done. Grabbing the files Emilio gave me just after the ceremony and taking a seat at the table directly in front of the bathroom, I opened the documents one by one.
Each file put together a piece of a puzzle I never knew I was a part of. Completely understanding why Emilio was so insistent that I go over the folder as soon as possible. I had no fucking idea my wedding night would turn into this, but with that said, I didn’t regret looking. Not for one fucking second. There was no way I could protect her from this, the images alone were enough to send me to my goddamn knees. Spinning the wheels in motion. Picture after picture of her small frame, her brown eyes, her beautiful smile. The way her hair was always cascading down her back, framing her gorgeous fucking face.
I shuffled through a few more photos, coming across the documents that I read closely. Rereading them over and over again in the little window of time I had. Forever memorizing each and every detail. Only confirming what the images already proved. Phone conversations translated onto paper, numbers, dates. One in particular standing out amongst the rest. It was all blatantly in front of me, clear as fucking day. There weren’t any misconceptions or false accusations, the proof was fucking blinding me. There was no room for error or gray area.
It was all written out in black and white.
Fighting, battling, toying with my need to protect her and love her like I always had. For the first time since I met her all those years ago, it was now a raging war between…