Page 67 of Saint

“I got you,” she vowed, unhooking the contraption.

It fell to the floor with a light thud. Lifting her out of it, she eased back onto the desk. I snaked my hands up her thighs, and then my fingers grazed the waistband of her thong. Victoria was embarrassingly wet. Noting the time, I quickly calculated how much was available to engage in the quickie we both desired. A nip to my lips brought me back to the present task.

“Fuck them, people, Saint. Put it in.”

Victoria

The Miller Center was complete. Joy commandeered my bones as I observed the pristine hall we stood in. We’d done it. We’d made a dream into a reality. Saint and I erected the recreational center that would tend to the community, including services ranging from counseling, tutoring, and more for autistic people.

“I’m proud of you, Saint.” Emphasizing the words, I wrapped my arms around him.

“I can’t take credit. My wife had her hands all over this. I’m excited to see what’s to come. It feels like I’m about to do something meaningful for all the people like me,” he grinned.

“Because you are,” I emphasized, cupping his face. “And I’ll be by your side through the journey.”

Since the doors to the facility would be opening within the next week, we opted to do a private walkthrough. There were no contractors or inspectors. Just me and him.

Everything had been polished clean for the grand opening to the community, but there was something special about walking the empty halls with the man who’d inspired the concept. He’d agreed to the project half-heartedly, but as it began to take shape, Saint’s enthusiasm grew.

“How are you feeling about a soiree of sorts for the opening?”

“Okay,” he floated, peering into the aquatic center.

We’d walked the entire first floor. Upstairs was where the counseling and classrooms would be. It was the last area we had yet to see. Slowing my movements, I reached for his hand.

“I need more than just an okay, baby.”

Tearing away from the indoor pool, he focused on me.

“I’ve been isolated on that beach for far too long. Not unlike the tale, I was a hermit of a beast. My life was a loop of me just going through the motions, living out my days in solitude with no desire to change.

“I’m ready to bear my uniqueness with the world. This,” he motioned to the space around us, “Means the world to me. I intend to be as present as needed for the kids that will grace these halls. I know you like to downplay your role in all of it, but you’ve been so instrumental in this project and in my life.”

“You’re going to make me cry, Saint,” I fussed.

“Save those tears, Beauty. I’m not finished yet.”

“Not finished?”

“Victoria, when you left me standing there with that duffle bag, I felt something inside my chest expand right before it exploded. It took me some time to recognize it, but I knew that I’d fucked up. When I agreed to give you that money, I meant every single word. I know it hasn’t been a year yet, but I want you to have that bread.”

Violently, my head shook before the words could intonate. “No.”

“Yes, Tori. As my wife, you already have access to everything, but I wanted you to have something of your own. I knew you’d make a fuss of me giving it to you, given how we started this journey together, so I put it into a trust for you to use as you see fit.”

“Saint Rafiq Miller,” I cried, eliciting a heavy sigh.

“Enough tears for now, Beauty. We need to finish our walkthrough.”

The late lunch with my parents was going smoothly until we landed on the topic of Saint. I knew it was coming. I’d braced myself for it. For the first hour, my mom led the conversation, bringing me up to speed on our relatives on the East Coast. I listened quietly, adding my two cents only when I needed to clarify a thing here or there about this cousin or that aunt.

“You went off and got married. Is that the reason we haven’t heard from you for the last six or seven months?” My father asked. I could tell he’d grown bored of the casual conversation. He was ready to dig into the elephant inappropriately nestled in their living room.

“Well, you all seldom reach out anyway,” I deflected and regretted instantly.

“This ain’t about us, Bee? Or is it? Did you marry that guy to spite us?”

Leave it to my father to spin the topic. He didn’t disappoint.