To Be Yours Again-Chapter 219 I am glad

*LORENZO*

Danica towel-dries her hair while I shave.

The bruise on her side looks smaller, but it’s still a livid purple. A wave of guilt washes through me, she certainly gave me no indication last night or this morning that she was in any pain. She gives me a dazzling smile over her shoulder, and like a sea mist in the breeze, my guilt fades into the ether. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

Part of me wants to stay here with her forever. But I also need to leave.

There was so much work for me to do in town and I didn’t want my father to notice.

But it will be a shame to go. I’m enjoying our comfortable familiarity, and I marvel at the change in her. She seems far more confident, and it’s been only a few days.

Tossing her hair to the side, with a glance at me, she strolls out of the bathroom, naked as the day she was born. I peek around the doorframe; the view is too tantalizing not to enjoy, her hair swinging almost to her waist in a gentle counterpoint to her walk. She stops at the bed and rummages through the wicker basket on the ottoman, looking for some clothes. When she glances up and catches me gawking, she smirks. And I move back to stare at my reflection in the mirror with a smug grin. Her newfound confidence is sexy as hell.

A few moments later, she appears in the doorway and leans on the frame. She’s wearing the clothes I bought her, and I know it’s going to be a good day. “In the bottom of the armoire, there should be a bag you can use for your clothes. Or I can ask Mona to pack them for you.”

“I can do it.” She folds her arms, studying me. “I like to watch you shave.”

“I like you watching me,” I murmur as I finish up. Turning, I brush her lips with a kiss, then wipe my face of the remaining foam. “Let’s have some breakfast and get on the road.”

Danica is animated on our drive back to town. We talk and laugh and talk some more, she has the most infectious giggle.

When we hit the M4, she takes command of the music, and we listen to the Rachmaninoff. As the first bars of the piano concerto begin to play, I’m reminded of when she played this piece at the Hideout, the memory is stirring. I watched her lose herself in the music, and she took me with her.

From the corner of my eye, I notice Danica fingers pressing imaginary keys through the cadenza. I’d love to see her play this again, but this time as a performance with a full orchestra.

“Have you seen Brief Encounter?”

“No.”

“It’s a classic British film. The director uses this piece throughout the movie. It’s cool. It’s one of my mother’s favorite films.”

“I’d like to see it. I love this music.”

“And you play it so well.”

“Thank you.” She gives me a shy smile.

“What is she like?”

“My mother? She’s...ambitious. Clever. Funny. Not very maternal.” As I say it, I feel a stab of disloyalty, but the truth is my mother seemed to have become less caring towards me.

She was when I was small but now; she seemed to be more into the high society, her social life, then give a fuck about what I was doing.

“Oh,” Danica bit out.

“Choose another song,” I prompt when the Rachmaninoff finishes. “Something cheerful.”

She smiles and scrolls through the list.

“Melody’?”

I laugh. “Rolling Stones? Yes. Play that.”

She taps the screen, and the countdown begins: Two. One, two, three, followed by the blues piano.

Danica grins. She likes it. Lord, I have so much music I’d like to share with her.

The roads are quiet and we make good time. We fly past the junction, with a further eighty miles to go until we reach my street. But I have to stop for petrol, so I take the slip road for Membury Services.

Danica’s demeanor suddenly changes. Her hand grips the door handle and she casts large, apprehensive eyes at me.

“I know that service stations make you anxious. We’ll just get petrol. Okay?”

Reaching over, I give her knee a reassuring squeeze. She nods but looks unconvinced. I pull up by a petrol pump, and she hops out to stand beside me while I fill up. “You going to keep me company?”

She nods and dances from foot to foot to stay warm, her breath a gauzy cloud around her. Her eyes survey the locale and fix on the parked trucks. She’s watchful. Wary.

It’s painful to see her this way, especially when she’d been so relaxed this morning.

“You know you’re safe now. The police have them,” I say to reassure her, but then the pump stops with a loud metallic clunk, startling us both. The tank is full. “Let’s pay.”

Hooking the nozzle back in its holder, I slip my arm around her shoulders, and we head into the shop. She walks beside me, subdued.

You okay?” We’re in the queue, and she’s radiating anxiety, taking furtive glances at everyone in the shop.

“Sometimes, I just think about my birth parents. If I had grown up with them, I wouldn’t have suffered much. I sometimes wonder what they look like and why they abandoned me.”

“Your feelings are totally valid, Danica. But I want you to know that you’re incredible person. It’s their lost for not having you in their life. And though, I might not know the reason why, but I want you to focus on yourself now. You’re not alone. You have me. And I can’t wait to see you bloom brighter than this.”

She smiles at me.

“Why don’t you find another song?”

She scrolls through the screen, and her eyes light up when she finds RY X. “We danced to this song.”

“Our first dance.” I smile at the memory. It seems like a lifetime ago.

We settle into a comfortable silence, both of us listening to the music. She seems preoccupied by the rhythm, swaying gently to and fro. And I’m happy to see that she’s recovered her equilibrium after telling her sad thoughts.

While she chooses another song, I got lost in my own thoughts.

Should I propose already?

So she’d have a family and never feel alone again.

Or was that too soon?

Heck I didn’t even know if my parents would approve of her.

Fuck!

My parents!

My mom.

I could already picture their faces when I tell them that I am dating a cleaner.

I shake my head, not ready to deal with that right now.

“Can we listen to the Rachmaninoff again?”

“Sure,” she says, scrolling through the screen once more.

I pull the F-Type up outside the company, and Dante comes out to greet me and hand over new keys for my flat.

“This is my girlfriend, Danica.” I lean back, and Dante reaches through the car window to shake Danica’s hand.

“How do you do,” he says. “I’m sorry we’re not meeting under better circumstances.” He gives her a warm smile.

Her answering smile is dazzling.

“I hope you’ve recovered from your ordeal.”

Danica nods.

“Thanks for sorting all this out,” I say. “I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.” He gives me a wave, and I ease the Jag into the traffic.

************

Lorenzo carries the bags from the car to the elevator. It’s odd to be back here, knowing that she’ll now be staying. The doors open, and they step in, and he drops her bag and pulls her into his arms.

“Welcome home,” he whispers, and her heart skips a beat. She strains upward to kiss him. And his lips find hers, kissing her hard and long until she forgets her name.

When the doors open, they are both breathless.

An old lady is standing at the entrance to the elevator. She’s wearing large dark sunglasses, a garish red hat, with earrings and coat to match, and she’s clutching a diminutive hairball of a dog.

Lorenzo releases Danica. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Beckstrom.”

“Oh, Lorenzo. How lovely to see you,” she replies in a high-pitched voice. “Or should I address you by your title now?”

“Lorenzo is fine, Mrs. B.” He maneuvers Danica out of the elevator and holds the door back for the old lady. “This is my girlfriend, Danica.”

“How do you do?” Mrs. Beckstrom beams at her but continues talking before Danica can reply. “I see you’ve had the front door repaired. I hope you didn’t lose much during the burglary.”

“Nothing that can’t be replaced.”

“I hope they don’t come back.”

“I think the police have them already.”

“Good. I hope they hang them.”

Hang? They hang people here?

“I’m off to walk Heracles, now it’s finally stopped raining.”

“Enjoy your walk.”

“I’ll do just that. You, too!” And she looks sideways at Danica, who cannot help but blush.

The doors close, and Mrs. Beckstrom disappears.

“She’s been my neighbor since forever. She’s about a thousand years old, and she’s batty.”

“Batty?”

“Crazy,” he explains. “And don’t be fooled by that dog. He’s a vicious little bastard.”

Danica smiles. “How long have you lived here?”

“Since I got into college.”

“I don’t know how old you are.”

He laughs. “Old enough to know better.”

She frowns while Lorenzo unlocks the front door.

“I’m twenty.”

Danica grins. “I thought you were older!”

“Yeah. I get that a lot. Since puberty hit, I’ve never looked my age. Plus, my responsibilities toughened me up.” He bends suddenly, surprising her, and scoops her up over his shoulder, avoiding her bruised side. She squeals and laughs as he waltzes into the apartment.

The alarm bleeps, and Lorenzo turns around until Danica is facing the alarm panel. Breathless, she enters the new code that he gives her, and when the beeping stops, Lorenzo slides her down his front so that she’s once more in his arms.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he says.

“I am glad, too.”

From his pocket he draws the keys that Dante gave him earlier. “For you.”

Danica takes them. They’re on a key chain with a blue leather fob that reads ANGWIN HOUSE.

“The keys to the kingdom,” she says.

Lorenzo grins. “Welcome home.” He bends to kiss her, his lips coaxing hers. She groans as she responds, and they lose themselves in each other.