by Jamie Knight
Delphine might have appeared like a woman. but the decor spoke of youth. Holdovers from adolescence, and before, a primary feature of the decor. She still even ate like a high-schooler. At least from what I could remember. Seeing the state of her fridge, I had the overwhelming urge to march her down to the shop and do a complete overhaul. Then I thought better of it, remembering how royally pissed I would have been if one of our parents had done the same to me. Better to let her make her own mistakes.
Permanence could be quite comforting. The metro system was mostly unchanged since I’d been there last. Though I wasn’t sure what changes I thought there could really be in five years, particularly to a city property. It was something I didn’t think the Americans really got. Probably because of their lack of history on the grand scale. There were trees in Europe that were older than the American Nation.
It was a picture of wonderment, Delphine finally able to see Paris at night. Something
every French citizen should be able to do at least once in their lives. Hell, something everyone should do.
While she seemed a little intimidated by the bustle, Delphine was going to have to get used to it if she lived in the capital. She’d mostly grown up in a world of open spaces. Our closest neighbor about 20 miles away. I hadn’t been asked, but knew she would have to acclimatize sometime. Best to do it when I was there to hold her hand. Literally, as it turned out. Her surprisingly strong grip not relenting until we took our table at the cafe.
We’d barely had time to order. The server was heading back to the kitchen when it happened.
Everybody got down amidst the gunshots and screaming. Snapping like a spring, I tackled Delphine, trying to get her out of the line of fire. Using myself as a human shield.
After what seemed like hours but were probably only minutes, the noise abetted. An eerie sense of calm coming over the scene, I held her, like I had when she was a baby. The mad hope that my warmth might revive her consumed my grief-addled mind.
At first, as the shock and adrenaline still ran, I hadn’t noticed how cold she was getting. Three rounds to the chest. Two right through her heart. The coroner said she would have died instantly. No pain. No time to say goodbye.
***
Small, gray waterfalls trickled down the page, threatening to mar the crisp white sheets beneath. The tears that wouldn’t fall before, coming in a cascade.
“Hugo?”
A light touch on my arm. I looked to see Vega, awake and alert, the covers fallen around to her waist. It made her look like a classical statue tourists went to gawp at in the Louvre. Every gentle curve of her, perfectly symmetrical with the others. A waking dream after a waking nightmare.
The pad slipped away as my strength relented, my hands falling slack on my lap. Vega pulled me to her, enveloping me in her gentle embrace. My soft sobs were muffled by her supple neck. The silver of the collar pressed into me as I held onto her, for dear life. Vega cuddled and shushed me lovingly.
“Want to talk about it?” she asked when I pulled myself together.
“I think I’d better, or I might go insane.”
It all came flooding out. The dam of denial and reserve had finally burst, letting the emotions flow free. One could only be stoic for so long before it stated to take a terrible toll. I’d never even been able to talk to my parents about what happened. Never talked to them again after the funeral.
As soon as Delphine was put in the ground, I was on the next plane back to California. Remaining in the airport terminal for the entire twelve hour wait. I just couldn’t face them. Their baby was dead. The guardian had failed. At least that was how I’d felt at the time. There was really nothing I could have done except take the bullets myself. Given the option, I would have.
“You can’t blame yourself.”
“But I did. It might not be right, but it was true. They had trusted me, Delphine trusted me and look where it got her? That was why I went funny when you said you loved me. I know it is a very different situation, but, in my experience, those who love me most die. Young and horribly.”
“You think you’re cursed?” Vega asked, without judgment.
“Now that you put it that way, yes. At least I did. Kind of silly, hey?”
“No, it’s understandable. You’ve been through a terrible trauma. People don’t to tend think clearly under such circumstances. Perspective can be a powerful thing.”
“True. I suppose an artist should know that better than anyone.”
Vega looked at the pad, her expression flickering from confusion to delight. Realizing what she was seeing.
“So it’s true.”
“The rumors that I’m an artist as well as a writer? Sure, for the last few years, anyway. I didn’t have any great plan to hide it. It just sort of happened when I was looking for something to do. Much like my first novel, honestly. Not to say there wasn’t any effort involved. Just no particular aspiration.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks. I was hoping to capture the serenity of sleep. I’ve only done a bit of it and never saw it from the outside.”
“You don’t sleep?”
“Not for a while, although lately it feels I’ve done more of it than I have in like the last year combined.”
“What changed?”
“You.” I admitted, “I can’t quite explain it.”
Her warmth enveloped me once again as Vega kissed me tenderly, filling me with a sense of peace and calm.
“I love you,” I finally said, the words coming naturally.
“I know.”
Chapter Thirteen - Vega
The end was near. There were only twenty pages left. Even though I had a good idea how the story would end, I was still dreading its arrival. Part of the problem with powerful prose. It felt real. Even more so than television, which seemed odd.
Despite the realism of things like television or film, there is always a disconnect. Maybe it’s something about the audience knowing, at least subconsciously, what is really going on. Actors, reciting lines in front of a camera. Particularly if the actors were exceptionally bad or the shot composition especially clumsy. The sudden appearance of boom-mics was the bane of any amateur production.
Text had no such tells. There was no major immediate distinction in terms of the actual pages between a history text and a fantasy novel, except in how the exact words were used.
Which can be gotten around. As in cases of creative non-fiction in which true events are presented in a creative way, and novels which go out of their way to feel like realistic accounts. Especially when based on real life, it can be easy to engage with the characters and events on an emotional level.
Knowing the real story behind Hugo’s novel made it sadder, while also adding to the imperative to get it right. It was his goodbye letter to Delphine. I was honored he had trusted me with it.
“Fuck,” I choked, putting down the manuscript.
My fingers pressed hard, willing the tears not to come. I didn’t know if it would work but figured it was worth a try. I didn’t want to cry in front of Hugo. I didn’t want him to think he’d made me sad. He had, but not in the way he thought.
“Any changes?” he asked.
“No, not one.”
I tried to smile, despite the tears. It was a bit like attempting to walk and chew gum at the same time, only ten times harder.
It was warm in his embrace. Calm and comforting. It was beginning to feel a lot like home.
“Hungry?”
My stomach rumbled, as though reacting to the word. We’d skipped breakfast and had an early lunch, creating that confusing between-meal void, where you were hungry but weren’t sure if you should eat or not. Not that Hugo seemed to mind that much. He generally seemed to eat what he wanted when he wanted, whether it was one of his regular meal times or not.
Food always tasted stronger after crying. There must have been something about a good hard cry that cleansed th
e pallet, leaving things open for new experiences. A new beginning.
It was a team effort. Matilda wouldn’t be on again for a few hours, so the kitchen was all ours. Rather than trying to one up each other or claim our territory, we came together in the spirit of unity. The connection between us, there from the beginning in a more subtle form, was stronger than it had ever been. It was almost as though we knew what the other needed before being asked. The process of cooking becoming like a dance.
Like magic it appeared. A meal possibly too big for just the two of us, laid out on the table in a flash.
Like a proper gentleman, Hugo pulled out my chair and pushed it back in.
“I have something to ask you,” I said, deciding just to get it over with.
Before I could get another word out, his phone pinged. Like a reflex, Hugo went for it., barely stopping himself in time. He looked at me with a questioning gaze.
“Go ahead.”
He took out his phone, holding my hand at the same time. He looked like he was expecting bad news. Either from me, or the text. Probably both. It could be hard to tell with his sort of poker face.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“Bad news?”
“I’m sorry. Yes. One of the others I was considering. She - she’s not happy that she wasn’t the one I picked. She says she’s going to expose us. More specifically me, and my February tradition.”
“But it’s not…it’s not like that anymore,” I objected, “Right?”
“Still won’t stop her. Particularly not with the speculation already going around. I really hoped they would have forgotten all about me by now. Most probably have, but this kind of scandal is exactly the sort of thing to get the wolves at the door.”
“Ok…so we have to tell them. Tell everyone. Tell them we’re together and very much in love. The truth, or at least a version of it, is that I’m your girlfriend and we’ve been working on a special project. No need to go into the exact chronology.”
It all went so fast. Moving from the dining room to the office as though by teleportation. Hugo’s Zoom account had all the needed contacts. Save for one which had been intentionally excluded. Within the hour, we had every other member of the Boucher Books staff, along with the manager of the printing company and a few key stores on call. Looking at us expectantly from their screens.
“We are sorry to bother you all at this awkward time of day,” Hugo said, “but Vega and I have an important announcement to make. We have finished my next novel. It should be ready to go into final edits early next month. Also, we are very much in love and will be getting engaged.”
It took every ounce of my strength to smile and not show my shock. There was a chorus of congratulations, as well as excitement from the gathered number. The gambit worked. Everyone knew about us, though on our terms. Or at least Hugo’s. Not that they, or indeed the media, were likely to pay much attention with the excitement of his new novel going around. Either way, any plans to expose us had been defused.
“Engaged, you say?” I asked hoarsely when the screen had gone blank and the microphone was off, “When did that happen?”
“Spur of the moment. Probably a bit of a shock for some of them too, I’d imagine. I was something of a bad boy, in my younger days. A ‘player’ you might say. But I’ve put that behind me now. I only want you, Vega. And I would very much like to make you my wife, if you will have me.”
“Of course I will,” I laughed, my head spinning, “Granted, I would have preferred you got down on one knee and asked directly but it’s the thought that counts. So, how shall we celebrate?”
“I can think of a few ways,” he said, stroking my thigh, left mostly bare by the dress I’d been forced to don due to a lack of other options.
“Oh, yeah?”
“If you’d like to.”
“Always. I am yours, completely,” I assured him.
He kissed me, hard. With a flaming passion that almost scared me. We were getting married. He was mine and I was his.
He released me, both of us moving away slowly. I took him by the hand, the one that had been on my thigh, and led him into the bedroom.
It felt natural. I never used to like being naked in front of other people. But having Hugo undress me felt so good and right. He had gotten quite good at it too, whipping my dress off effortlessly and leaving me standing in only my panties.
I didn’t like to wear shoes at the best of times, least of all inside, and my nipples had gotten particularly tender, so I spent most of my time forgoing the use of a bra.
He kissed me, working his way down my neck, over the collar I so willingly wore. When he ended up at my chest, I moaned as his tongue touched my nipple. It was almost as good as the sensations wrought by the hand he slipped down the front of my panties. Light licks pleasuring my sensitive nipples, as gentle fingers quelled my raging pussy. He was still doing both when I came, making it difficult to tell which of the stimulations had been finally responsible. Though I had my theories.
Progressing down between my breasts, along my belly, his other hand joined the one that had pleasured me so, easing my panties down and then off. He gently lifted each of my feet by the ankle as he pulled them free.
Still on his knees before me, Hugo guided me down onto the bed and, with his hands on my knees, he tenderly opened my legs. Taking a moment to admire what he found there, he went for it. His chiseled cheeks pressing lightly against my inner thighs as he took the first long, gentle licks of my tender pussy.
I moaned loud enough to wake the dead as he pleasured me, using every method he knew to make me vibrate with pure ecstasy.
I sounded my last cry of pure joy, collapsing on the bed, not sure if I would ever move again, not that I particularly wanted to at that exact moment. Hugo embraced me, planting kisses all over my face and neck, bringing me back to sense. Willing my arms to work I returned his embrace, the connection cracking like lighting in my ears.
He wetted his fingers and, very lightly, pressed them up against my pussy. I moaned with delight at the touch.
“Ready?”
“Yes. Please.”
He was naked in no time, never actually taking his hand off my pussy as he undressed. My heart started beating even faster when I finally saw his beautiful cock spring free.
One by one, he once again positioned me on the edge of the bed, my legs looped over his arms as he began the long, slow slide into my pussy.
I could feel every inch of Hugo’s hard cock filling every inch I had to offer, never relenting its gentle progress until it was all the way inside me. He paused for a moment, the pulse of our hearts and the soft throbbing of his cock seeming to fall into sync. Kissing me deep, he began to move.
The rhythm of his cock in my pussy, becoming like a mantra in my head. Something to focus on as my mind was filled with pure white light. Somewhere in the distance, a woman was moaning. It was some time before I realized it was me.
Willing myself back down into my physical form, I was hit by the force of a massive orgasm. One of many, as it turned out, in the course of a few minutes. I knew I could have multiples, but none of them had been anything like that. Yet, there I was, coming all over the place, completely taken over by the most transcendent experiences of my life.
He carried me. There was no way I could walk. My arms and legs dangled as though I was asleep in his arms, ragdoll limp and useless. As opposed to just indisposed. Barely able to swallow until I got more of my faculties back.
Water pounded into the tub and I could almost feel the steam kissing my skin. Before I could form the words to tell him it was too hot, I heard the distinctive squeak of the old tap as he eased off the hot and turned up the cold.
It was perfect. The water that enveloped me in its warm embrace neither hot enough to scald, nor cold enough to chill. Either of which could well have shocked me back to a more functional stat, but Hugo had a different way of doing things.
From his
position beside the tub, he scrubbed me down until I was squeaky clean. My nerves were on high alert, the slightest touch sending a jolt of sensation through me. Which explained his gentle approach to things.
Hugo didn’t want to hurt me. He never had and he never would. Even if it were the obvious or easy thing. It just wasn’t his way.
Willing my arm to work once again, I reached up and stroked his cheek, tears of love and joy joining the moisture already on my face. Meeting no resistance, I pulled sweet Hugo, my impromptu Valentine and fiancé, to me, and I kissed him. As long, and as passionately as I could.
Epilogue - Vega
One Year Later
It was time. The weeks had melted together into months, and finally, it was Valentine’s Day again. Well beyond the fortnight originally agreed on.
Much of it was spent having the dress made. A modern take on a Victorian classic done in ivory. Best to let my dad have his illusions, even though much of the effort of the design went into concealing my baby bump. On the upside, I’d only just entered my third trimester.
“How do I look?”
“Beautiful,” Maya said, stepping back for a better look.
How she appeared in California, when she was still in Barcelona when we’d spoken the day before, was a mystery for the ages. Just one of Hugo’s lovely, thoughtful wedding gifts.
Including flying out my dad. The only conspicuous gap in the guest list were his own parents. Hugo was still not ready to face them. He felt like he should try to forgive himself, before he asked their forgiveness. It didn’t seem right. As far as I could tell, all he was really doing was making it so both of their children were ghosts.
“Not wearing it?” Maya asked coyly, moving back in to readjust my veil.
“We figured it was best, “As I spoke, my hand unconsciously went to the vacancy left by the collar.