"It's beautiful.”
“Yes it is, too bad a lot of things aren't.” His face suddenly darkened.
"What are you talking about?"
"I know that you’ve probably been wondering about my parents since the incident at Miranda’s school.” She opened her mouth to interject but he continued.
“My mom killed my dad when I was six, right in front of me," he said. Emboldened by her silence, he continued, "I heard shouting and then I came downstairs and saw my mom hitting my dad’s chest. I tried getting their attention, but they didn’t hear me at first. I ran towards my dad and pulled on his leg begging them to stop. My dad reassured me that he loved me and that everything will be okay and asked that I go back to my bedroom, but I didn’t. Finally, my mom left the room and my dad hoisted me up on his hip and was on his way to bring me to my room when my mom came back into the living room with the gun. She pointed it at my dad even though I was in his arms. My dad quickly let me down and placed me behind him and he begged my mom to put the gun down. I remember her smile and I remember my dad shouting no. The next thing I remember is three loud bangs. She just shot him, while I was standing behind him. Our living room at the time was covered in his blood. The Christmas tree was red from his blood. When I got older, I learned that my dad had asked for a divorce from my mom after she cheated. Instead of losing all that money and prestige that came with being his wife, she killed him, right in front of me..."
Trinity’s hand was covering her mouth and tears were streaming down her face when he looked at her. He didn’t see pity in her eyes like he saw from others, he saw anger.
“She killed him with his own gun and then turned the gun on herself. And even if I didn't understand the words being flung about, I understand the violence of that moment, the way the blood suddenly seemed to erupt and how his body was on the ground and still, too still." He paused, staring into blank space as if he could still see the image play out. “My grandfather came over and got me that same night. He had only just learned that his only son was murdered but his concern was for me. He wanted to get me out of that house and that town as soon as possible. My grandfather became my guardian from that day. He hired Celia to care for me and he did his best. He went to all my ball games and he stayed up with me for months when I would get the nightmares."
He sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulder.
"I think you needed to know that." With that, he left the car and firmly closed the door on his side.
As she scrambled after him, he watched her moving closer, the emotions in his eyes banked.
"You didn't have to but thank you so much for trusting me with that. I am sorry that you had to witness that. You were only one year older than Miranda," she whispered closely, her hand on his shoulder as she lifted earnest eyes to his.
"Why are you so different?" he asked, allowing himself to feel, to let his desire for her show just a little.
"I am just myself," she said, heart fluttering.
“I know," he murmured and closed his lips over hers.
He guided her backwards until her back was to the front of the car, all the while his lips assaulted hers. Her tongue flicked his lips before it tangled in his. He explored the dark cavern of her mouth and her taste, exploding all around him, driving all his senses to a high pitch until he was aware of nothing but her.
Taste. Touch. Scent. Feel.
He was lost in her, leaning against the car with her hand banded around him, her hips grinding into him, feeling the proof of his desire.
He groaned at her sudden movement as he pulled away to look at her, needing to see her. Her lips were swollen from his kiss, glistening as her mouth darted out and back in once before she bit her lip, effortlessly seductive.
He groaned at the visual — she had no idea how beautiful she was, how the sight of her drove him to heights of desire.
His hands strayed under her small blouse all while his eyes fixed on her, eager to catch every nuance of her pleasure.
My wife.
???
Two days later, he had surprised them with a ski trip to Mont Tremblant in Canada, he took time off work for the first time ever to take them on a vacation, his first, ever since he turned eighteen.
He wanted the memories he made there to last him a lifetime. He was awed by the surprise and happiness on both their faces when they got to their lodge. Miranda kept pinching herself like she thought it wasn’t real. Trinity just walked through everything in a daze, as if she couldn’t believe her own eyes. She told him that it was her first international trip.
They made memories to last a lifetime, both during the day teaching Miranda and Trinity how to ski and at night, delving so deep into Trinity’s body, worshipping it, exploring it while she drove him crazy with her responses.
He regretted having to leave after only three days.
???
He looked out at the office view with unseeing eyes, wondering if he was ever going to enjoy walking to that window and looking through it. Probably not, but a new habit and something else always drove him there. Thoughts of her always drove him out of that headspace that loved work and into a delicious kind of chaos.
“Trinity," he murmured under his breath and sighed heavily.
Michael dry washed his face and tugged at the offending tie. His suit jacket was already abandoned, but he was no closer to seeing a solution.
