Page 46 of Temptation
Flynn shrugs. “Daddy never just leaves without saying goodbye…”
“Oh, don’t think like that,” I say gently. “It was very late when he had to leave.”
“Hmm.” Flynn doesn’t look convinced. “Is it because we are in danger?”
A lump of dread forms in the pit of my stomach at his question. I have wondered how much the twins have picked up on recent events. I had hoped their innocent minds wouldn’t grasp the gravity of the situation or understand what their father truly does for work.
“Huh? What makes you think that?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm.
“Oh. Um—” Flynn hesitates, thinking over his words. “Never mind.” He averts his gaze, clearly regretting saying anything.
I open my mouth to ask him what he means but decide against it. His expression tells me he’s already said more than he intended. While I feel a pang of unease, I push the feeling aside, focusing instead on the task at hand: making the twins feel better and giving them a happy and carefree afternoon.
Just as I resolve to lift their spirits, Flynn jumps to his feet. “I’m going to play with Maddy. Are you coming too?” He takes my hand and pulls me toward Maddy, who is busy building a sandcastle a few feet away. The smile he gives me seems a bit forced, but it’s a start.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I greet Maddy as we reach her. “What are you building there?”
“A huge castle for my princess dolls!” she beams, her eyes sparkling with delight. Flynn rolls his eyes but can’t resist joining in, digging into the sand to help his sister.
Before long, Flynn runs back to the house to retrieve some dolls and action figures, and we spend the rest of the afternoon playing together. The children’s laughter fills the air as we build and eventually tear down their sandcastle, our spirits lifting with each moment. By the time we head back home, big smiles are plastered on the children’s faces, and my mood has significantly improved too.
Two days.
It’s been only two days, but at the same time it feels like an eternity since Fabrizio left. Even though every moment with the twins is priceless, the hours seem to drag on painfully slow, testing my patience to the limit. Funny how quickly you get used to someone’s presence; how the tender feelings I had for him blossomed so fast, now leaving a heavy emptiness in his absence.
When Fabrizio was here, everything flowed smoothly. The twins’ laughter, our quiet moments together, it all blended into a melody of contentment. Now, it feels like everything has hitpause, each minute stretching into an unbearable eternity filled with longing and solitude.
As I mull over these thoughts, a shiver runs down my spine mixed with a smile. There’s also a lurking dread, creeping into my consciousness. How will I ever go back to my old life once this is over? How will I enjoy a quiet night with a book in my tiny apartment again, instead of reading bedtime stories to the sweetest little girl? How will I sleep without the comforting warmth of Fabrizio beside me?
I shake my head, baffled by the depth of my feelings. How did I fall so hard for a man I barely know? How is it that, after just a few days, I suddenly can’t imagine my life without him?
Sighing deeply, I head to the kitchen, deciding a little comfort wouldn’t hurt. The thought brings a slight relief, a brief escape from the relentless ticking of the clock.
I pick a bottle of rich red wine from the cabinet, remembering Fabrizio’s words about bringing a fine selection just for me. The cool bottle feels reassuring in my hands. I take a moment to breathe in its soothing aroma before pouring a generous glass. The deep crimson liquid glistens in the dim light of the living room lamps as I set the glass on the table.
Taking a sip, the wine’s taste envelops my senses, offering a brief respite from the ache of his absence. I close my eyes, savoring the fleeting comfort, knowing that even when he’s gone, he’s still a part of my world, like he’s etched into my being.
Upstairs, the twins’ laughter echoes faintly, a haunting reminder of joy that now seems so distant. I glance at the clock, its hands moving sluggishly, each tick a reminder of the hours before his return. Does he miss me as much as I miss him? Does he feel the same hollow ache, the same pull that I do? It’s strange how quickly he became an integral part of my life, bringing a lightness to my heart I hadn’t felt in years.
Part of me fears this intensity, this overwhelming surge of emotions. But another part, quieter and more resolute, embraces it. Because in this whirlwind of feelings, I’ve found a part of myself I didn’t know existed—a part that yearns for connection, for love, for the simple joy of being with someone who makes the world less daunting, no matter who or what he is.
Taking another sip of wine, I let the warmth spread through me, easing the tension in my shoulders before heading upstairs to tuck in the twins.
Flynn, still struggling to find solace in our bedtime rituals, lies in bed with eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. His room is softly lit by a nightlight, casting delicate shadows on the walls. I stand quietly at the door, hoping sleep will soon claim him. But his eyes remain bright, alert, far from the realm of dreams.
“Good night, Flynn,” I whisper softly, my voice a gentle murmur meant to coax him towards sleep.
“Good night,” he replies in a whisper so faint it barely disturbs the still air. He obediently closes his eyes, but I sense sleep is still a distant visitor, lingering far beyond his reach. The tension in his small frame tells me it will be a while before he succumbs to rest.
Leaving Flynn’s room, I head down the hallway to Maddy’s room. She’s lying in bed, her usual bright smile now a faint shadow, reflecting her young worries. I sit on the edge of her mattress, feeling the softness beneath me, and reach out to brush a stray strand of hair from her forehead, offering a comforting smile.
“Do you want me to read you a story?” I ask, hoping to comfort her.
Maddy shakes her head slowly. “I’m really tired already. But…” she pauses, her small face wrinkling with concern, her eyes searching mine for answers. “When is Daddy coming home?”
“As soon as he can,” I assure her, though the words feel hollow, lacking the certainty she craves. I wish I could give her more than just empty promises.
“Okay,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with resignation and a hint of lingering dissatisfaction. “Can I have a hug?” she asks.
