The Knight Of The Rose (31 page)

it.

Mike’s arms dropped a little more while his fingers clutched tightly together to hold them in

place around my waist. His breathing became deeper, and I let myself fall asleep with him.

This is going to be my life from now on, and I have to admit, after all the pai n, after all the

loss and loneliness, it finally feels like I can breathe. I feel sort of…happy.

A semi-conscious dream stole my eyes to the images in the back of my mind; a wedding.
My

wedding; my white dress and the bouquet I dreamed of the night I lost David.

I wanted to control my thoughts and make th e image of the man by the alter turn into

David—but I couldn’t—it was Mike. It had always been Mike.

As I stood beside him, I pulled the rose, the red one, from my bouquet, and gave it to him.

“This isn’t for me,” he said, dropping it to the f loor. “I have
my
rose.” Mike smiled softly,

reaching for my cheek, and as I rolled my face into his hand, I jump ed back with the cold shock of

electricity through my skin.

My eyes flashed open. My ch eek—I touched it—was still stinging from the cold, while a

familiar, sweet scent filled the air all around me. “David?” I whispered, too low for Mike to hear.

No reply came.

I inhaled the orange-chocolate scent and closed my eyes again for a second, tasting it on the

breeze blowing through my now open window.

It was no dream. I felt his touch. I’m sure of it.

I ran my fingers over my cheek; still cold.

Mike didn’t stir as I jumped out from the warmth of his arms and ran to the window. The

street below was desolate and quiet, but he was he re. I fel t him. He was here, and he would’ve

found me in the arms of another man.

“I love you, David. Forever,” I whispered into the nothing, then reluctantly shut my window.

A tear rolled down my cheek as I l ooked, once more, into the night. The clouds, lit in a

silvery glow, parted enough for the full moon to shine brightly on the tr eetops—and one solitary

star sparkled through the eternal black.

“Make a wish.” Strong arms wrapped my waist from behind.

“I don’t believe in wishes anymore, Mike.”

“Well, I’ll make one for you, then.” He squeezed me tighter, then crossed his heart—making

two lines like an x over his chest.

“What did you wish?” I asked.

“Can’t tell you. It won’t come true.” He pr essed his hands to my waist and turned me

around. Under the luminous moonlight, his ski n looked pale and smooth—like a vampire. He ran

the back of a curled finger over the side of my face. “Why are you crying, baby girl?”

I sniffed back the runny liquid in my nose. “So much has happened. Everything’s changing

for me now, Mike. Sometimes, I feel like I’m losing control of it all—like it just goes too fast.”

“It does go fast, princess,” he said; I looked down. “But, that’s why you’ve got to make the

most of every day. To love whole-heartedly—” he kissed my forehead, “—to laugh with ever y

muscle in your body—” he kissed my nose, “—and to find the good in every moment; happy or sad

or difficult.” He pulled back for a second as he moved in to kiss my lips, and added one more thing,

“And I’m going to be here to do it all with you. For the rest of our lives.”

I closed my eyes and breathed him in; soft warmth, velvet smooth lips. My heart raced down

into my legs then up to my hands, and swirl ed around in my head. “I l ove you, Mike,” I whispered

through our kiss.

When the dark, shadowy morning greeted me, I opened my eyes and felt for Mike in the

empty space beside me. But he wasn’t there. He must’ve gone back to his own bed some time in the

early hours—driven away by my mad, incessant tossing and turning. Or maybe it was the sleep-

talking. I wonder if this means he’ll sleep in a separate bed when we get married, because, somehow,

unless David magically comes back into my life, I doubt my restless sleeping will improve again.

The screen of my iP od lit the small space ar ound me as I s crolled through my playlists—

deliberately passing right over th e ‘David’ one. But, after a moment’s thought, I ca me back to i t;

maybe it will help to hear the journey I went on when we first met--the journey that’s mapped out in

song. But as the song began, I double-checked the title, frowning to myself. I always knew I was a

little absent-minded, but downloading mysterious songs in my slee p was a littl e bi-polar, even for

me. I mean, I’d heard of John Mayer before, but
never
owned any of his music.

As the mystery tune began, I popped my

earphones in and tucked my iPod into my

trackpants pocket as I stood up. Th e delicate piano told a sad story for the first few seconds, and as

the words began, I checked the title again; ‘Dreaming with a Broken Heart’.

I wonder how this got on here.

Outside my window, it looked cold and grey—like the world was readying itself for rain.

The streets were empty and the lights still on along the footpath, while a soft red glow outlined the

mountains to the east below purple fish-bone clouds.

Tiny bumps of chill dotted my belly with the kiss of a cool breeze, blowing in from a small

crack where the window hadn’t sh ut properly last night. I pushed down, hard. Then again. “Close,

you stupid thing!”

It closed, with a wet-sounding crunch, leaving the remains of a green stem sticking out from

the lip of the frame.

“What the...? How did you get th ere?” Through the glass, at the end of the long stem, the

yellow petals of a rose brightened the grey morning. I threw open the window and took the flower

just as the sun touched the earth, warming ever ything around me; the treetops became pink and

gold, and the gent le wind blew as orange leaves floated softly down to the gr ound, like autumn

snow. Then, the words of David’s song filled every other space around me, and the sweet scent of

the rose, like pears, tri ckled happiness into my se nses. I ran my fingers down the thornless st em,

believing, with all my heart, that the rose was a message from David. I was sure of it.

Carefully pinching one of the cool, silky petals at the base, I plucked it from the stem, then

held it out over the windowsill for a moment. “He loves me,” I said, listening to the words of the

song. As the icy breeze came around again, I flicked the petal, opening my hand; it floated up, into

the air, making circles on the breeze, then followed the autumn leaves to the old oak tree in the

garden, finally resting, with one last kiss from the wind, right on the seat of the swing.

I smiled then, because I knew in my heart that, though we’d never be okay again and we’ d

never move on, he at l east loved me enough to say; “Goodbye,” I said before closing my window

and turning away.

Standing in my wardrobe, faced with the ever-tedious task of outfit selection, I looked at my

blue ball dress and folded my arms; maybe I shouldn’t wear it—maybe I should just go in my green

one. After all, it’s not like David can yell at me for it. Hell, I’d welcome him to.

I dug into the s pace between my old purple sweater and f aded jeans, and as I l ooked at the

green dress, an epiphany hit me with a proverbial rock in the head.

I ran for my bedside, grabbed my phone and tapped my finge rs against my arm anxiously

while it rang.

“Hello?”

“Em. It’s me. Come over. I have the perfect dress for you.”

Mike, sitting on the stair with hi s coffee, smiled as I ran past to answer the door. “Hey,

beautiful? What you doin’?”

“Emily’s here—I have a dress for her.” I jumped the las t step and swung the fr ont door

open. “Hey, Em.”

“Hey, Ara—” She took my hand aft er waving to Mike, who shook his head at us as we

bolted past and shut my bedroom door.

“Now, close your eyes—and stay here.” I left her by my bed while I ran to the closet to get

the dress. “Okay...” I held it up against my body. “You can open.”

Emily’s eyes lit up. With her mouth open she ran straight over to me—well, to the dress.

“Oh, my God, Ara. This is perfect. Where did you get this?”

“I’ve had it for ages.” I shrugged.

“Can I try it on?”

“Of course, dummy, that’s why I called you. Here.” I handed her the dress and di rected her

to my wardrobe.

“I can’t thank you enough for this, Ara. I wasn’t going to go. I just haven’t found anything I

love enough to wear, but this—” she stepped out and her beauty struck me.

“Emily?” I couldn’t help but to hug her. “How perfect is this on you—oh, my God!”

She spun around slowly; shoestr ing straps sat delicately over her shoulders, holding the

fitted dress a touch off t he floor, while the low back scooped down, bunc hing together just a

fraction lower than the purple undies she wore toda y. I sighed enviously, folding my ar ms, because

the green made her honey-gold skin look like liquid satin.

“I hate you, you know. It never looked that good on me,” I said.

“Aw, I’m sorry, Ara. But I do
love
it,” she said.

“Well, then, it’s yours,” I said.

“Mine? Really? Ara, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. I want you to have it. It was—” I shook my head, looking for the right words

“—meant for you.”

“Thank you.” She reached her arms out; I hugged her again. “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

“Me too. Come on—” I took her hand, leading her to the door, “—we have to show Mike.”

“Wait.” She pulled back a little. “Are...are you sure it looks good? I mean—”

“Em. It’s great. Stop worrying.” I stuck my head around the corner. “Mike?”

“Yeah?” He flashed a really sexy grin, stopping as he was headed down the stairs.

“What’d you think?” When I pulled Emily around the corner, Mike tilted his head to one

side.

“Wow. Yeah, that’s a gr eat dress.” With a fing er making circle motions in th e air, he

ushered Emily to twirl; she spun around. “I don’t know, Ara. Perhaps I’m marrying the wrong girl?”

Emily’s head whipped up; she looked at me, her mouth falling open. “Marrying? Did he say

marrying
?”

I shot a death glare at Mike.

As if someone had shoved a large rolled-up sock in his mouth, he stood stunned at his own

carelessness.

“Well, the cat’s out of the bag now,” I said, holding up my ring hand.

“Oh, my God,” Emi ly squealed deafeningly loud, grabbing my hand; Mike rubbed hi s ear

with his finger. “When did this happen?”

“Yesterday.”

“Wow.” She pressed both thumbs t o my ri ng, becoming seemin gly smaller from the

shoulders down. “And...what about David?”

I wished she hadn’t said that.

“He’s—out of the picture,” Mike said softly, but very politely.

Emily’s eyes said everything she was really thinking; “Well, that’s really great, Ara. I’m so

happy for you two.”

Mike, with a raised brow, jerked his thumb toward the stairs and wal ked a few steps

backward before fleeing with the speed of a man in trouble; Oh, wait—he is in trouble!

Emily closed my bedroo m door, then spun ar ound to look at me; “Ara? What have you

done?”

“I already told you, Em.” I sat on the bed, shifting Emily’s ja cket out of t he way. “David

isn’t for me. You knew this. Why are you so surprised?”

“Because, up until now I thought —” she looked down at the ground, “I t hought true love

would prevail.”

“Em—” I sighed. “David wasn’t the one for me.”

“Yes. He was,” she said with too much gravity in her tone.

“No. He wasn’t.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “I don’t know what to say to you, Ara. You know he
loved

you. That should be enough.”

“No. I’m sorry—it isn’t.”

“What else do you need? What couldn’t he give y ou? Kids? Is that all? Is that really all?”

She placed her hands on her hips again. “This is lu dicrous, Ara. I thought you’d get past this. He

loves you. Love! Do you understand that? Nothing else matters.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said softly. “It’s not just the kid thing.”

“Then what else is there? Please, just tell me?” She sat beside me.

“I want to. But David, as you
well
know, has secrets. It’s one of those secrets that’s keeping

me from being with him.”

She nodded. “I always knew there was something odd about him. So, what is it? What could

be so bad that you can’t be with him?”

I rubbed my forehead. “You’re missing the point of the word
secret
, Em.”

She breathed out. “Can
I
ask David?”

“Well, sure, but he’s not coming back?”

“Honestly, Ara—” She shook her head and walked over to my desk chair, then pull ed her

phone from her bag. “You’re so nineteenth-century sometimes.”

Hm, didn’t think of that.

Emily focused on the screen, pinning the number in, then held it to her ear.

If he answers this call, I don’t know how I’ll cope with being so close to him as j ust on the

other end of the line.

With my body completely stiff, I watched Emily tap her foot while she waited. “Jason?” her

voice rose in shock, her eyes widened. “Where is he?”

I didn’t know she even knew about Jason.

“Just tell me where he is,” she said, then went quiet. “Well, does he know what Ara’s gone

and done?”

Hey, I scoffed silently. I re sent that comment. I haven’ t
gone and done
anything at all. I’m

marrying the man I love, that’s it. Am I not allowed to try to be happy?

She bit her lip, breathing in through her nose. “She’s marrying him, Jason.”