He kissed my neck, and I shivered.“It's yours, Francesca.You're my wife.Everything I have,” his tongue darted out and licked that one spot I loved so much, “is yours.”His arms tightened around me, and I leaned back into him.At that moment—I almost believed him.Even though what he'd said was completely absurd.“This house has been waiting a long time for someone like you.Just like I have.”
There were very few moments in life that I wished I could just stuff into a bottle and keep forever.
And funny enough—most of them were with Stefan.
This was definitely one of those bottle moments.
I would keep it with me along with the others.
Like seeing his handsome, desperate, pleading eyes look up at me in the ER all those months ago.
Or finding Stefan in the back seat of my crappy brown car after I'd cried the entire way home from the hospital—thinking I'd never see him again.
Or walking out onto that stage, knowing I was about to be—bought—by some disgusting old man.But instead—immediately seeing Stefan's eyes.And knowing—just knowing—he would save me.
And then when I walked out of Carlo and Giselle's house in a wedding dress, to see—Stefan's glistening eyes on me.
All of those moments I’d hold dear to my heart.
Forever.
Part of me wanted to argue with Stefan and tell him how ridiculous he was being.This kitchen didn't belong to me.And neither did Stefan.
I knew it.
He knew it.
But for this moment—
This wonderful, amazing moment in time—
Well, I selfishly wanted to keep this bottle moment for myself.
Forever.
“Go outside if you want.I'll make us something to eat.”He kissed my cheek and let me go.
All on their own, my feet carried me to the windows.I looked left—and then right—seeing nothing but water and sky.
I stood there completely unaware of anything going on around me.I heard Stefan in the kitchen behind me.And I smelled—food—of some kind cooking.But my attention was solely focused on the spectacular view in front of me.
I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when I heard Stefan say, “Come outside,” I turned to see him a few yards away, pulling the glass wall—away.It folded in on itself like an accordion.“Or I'll bring the outside,” he walked directly in front of me, “in.”
The wall of windows had disappeared.
And left me standing on the patio.Stefan walked back into the kitchen but came back quickly with two plates in his hands.“Francesca,” he called as he strolled over to a large, square iron table.He set down the plates and walked back to the kitchen.
I blinked and shook my head slightly.This was too crazy.How in the world was I even here right now?This all seemed like a dream.
I wandered over to the table and sat down.The chairs matched the table, but there were soft, cheery yellow cushions on them.
The plate in front of me had five hot, steaming meatballs on it with grated cheese on top.
“Salad, if you want.”Stefan set a heaping bowl of greens beside my plate.The scent of lemon drifted up my nose.He dropped a bowl by his plate, too.And slid a plate of sliced bread and a small bowl of chopped tomatoes between us.
It finally occurred to me to ask, “Do you want help with anything?I'm sorry, I should have been in the kitchen with you instead of—” I waved my hand at the picturesque view, “acting like a stunned idiot.”
Stefan chuckled and stepped behind me.His hands landed on my shoulders, and he bent down.“If I had needed help, I would have asked you.”He squeezed my shoulders.“And the fact that you appreciate the view was not idiotic.”His lips touched my cheek.“It was appreciated.”Then he let go of me and left again.
