“So it’s final? I’ll never have children? There’s nothing that can be done?”
Maybe I wasn’t over it entirely. Not only has the man I love professed to never marry me, I can’t even have a child of my own. And though I honestly have no plans of starting a family any time soon, the revelation that I will never have one truly breaks my heart.
“Nothing that we can do, no. As far as any other forces, I’m not entirely sure.” Donna drops the utensil in her hand, realization setting in. Her face becomes frighteningly pale. “Is this about Dorian? Does he want you to give him a child?”
I shake my head furiously, hoping to ease her worry. “No. He knows I can’t have children and he’s fine with that.” I look away to hide my unresolved sorrow. “It’s not like he’d marry me anyway.”
Donna reaches over and sets her petite hand on my shoulder. “Oh honey. He can’t. Not if he wants to save you. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but he’s doing you a favor, you’ll see.” She cradles my face in both of her small hands. “One day you will find a wonderful young man that will love you for who you are. And you’ll be happy. And lead a long, wonderful life full of love and laughter.”
I try to find the words to tell her that Dorian is my happiness. That he and I are anchored for life. But what does that mean exactly? That I am aligning with the Dark? That I will pledge my allegiance to them, vow to fight for them? I try to squelch my confusion with a swig of my wine.
“What’s that?” Donna asks, pointing at my hand.
“What?” I ask, though I know exactly what she is referring to. The mark Dorian gave me.
She takes my hand, inspecting the little blue anchor. “You got a tattoo? When?”
“Um, a while back. I’m surprised you hadn’t seen it.” Crap. Though I hadn’t gone so far as to wear gloves whenever I came to visit, I wasn’t exactly trying to flaunt it either. “Dorian gave it to me,” I tack on as an afterthought.
“You let him mark you?!” she shrieks. “Oh dear, what have you done?”
Sheesh, melodramatic much?
“It’s no big deal. Just a little tattoo. He has one too.”
Donna chews her lip, something obviously eating at her. She drops her eyes and steps forward a bit. “Honey, I think there’s something I should-”
“Ok, it’s halftime. Please tell me dinner is ready. I’m starving!” Chris stampedes in, appearing to have had a couple beers. Judging by the roars and jeers, his team is winning. I give him a bright smile, genuinely thrilled to see him so laidback. Finally things are headed in the right direction with us and I long for the closeness we once shared.
“Sure is, Dad. Let’s eat!” I exclaim beaming. And while I am not totally ignorant of Donna’s doubts, I can’t find the strength to ingest any more revelations.
***
The next afternoon, Carmen informs me that Dorian has left a message for me to come to Luxe to see him right away. I quickly slather on a fresh coat of lipgloss, eager to see Dorian and curious as to what has brought him to the salon. He hardly ever goes there and truly has no interest in the cosmetology industry. I walk the block or so towards Luxe, the brisk mountain air causing me to pull my leather jacket around me. Many of the shops and restaurant are displaying whimsy Halloween decorations and I make a mental note to pick some up for Cashmere at a party supply store.
As I approach the salon, a chilling sensation rips through me, causing me to shiver violently for a spilt second. Goosebumps prick every inch of my skin and I pull my jacket tighter around me, unable to shake the unexpected, gripping cold. I can feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. Sheesh, talk about a case of heebie-jeebies. Could someone be watching me? I quickly scamper into the salon, anxious to find solace in Dorian and inform him of my suspicion.
“Hey Gabs, what’s up?” Morgan inquires, looking over her shoulder as she finishes up with a client.
“Dorian called me. Said he needed to see me.” I glance back over towards the door, still feeling on edge.
“Dorian? He isn’t here today.” Morgan then removes the black cape from her client and spins the chair around. “There you go, sir. Now you look even more handsome, if that’s even possible,” she gushes.
As my eyes fall on the dashing man sitting before me clad in a dark tailored suit, I fight the blood-curdling scream building in my throat. He smirks, his gleaming blue eyes scanning the length of my body hungrily.
“Hello, Gabriella. How lovely to see you again,” he says coolly. His words sound muffled, muted by the rapid pounding of my heart vibrating in my ears.