My love stays with you
Forevermore
I feel tears prick my eyes. It’s reverent and loving.
“When she is ready, you need to sing that for Tianna.”
I sense his nod.
Chapter fifty-six
Christianna
Waking up to gentle sunlight creeping across my bed, I can’t help but smile as I stretch leisurely.
I crawl out of the huge bed. Raindrop and Dewdrop don't stir as I pad to the balcony . Cool air brushes my skin. Below, the pool glimmers in the early light, the yard beyond it stretching toward Audubon Park. The walking paths wind through the trees, but they feel distant from here. Safe.
I wrap my arms around myself and do a small dance of joy. This, is mine. I'm in the city but don't feel confined. Things are finally turning around. Yes, it borders the road on one side, but the only empty lot in the subdivision is next to me, and the other side shares with one of the Tulane properties. Perfect privacy, but right in the city. My best friend yards away.
Meg’s pool house sits tucked near the western edge, close enough to wander over for coffee, far enough to feel like her own space.
I glance back at the dogs. I like that they share a name, in a way. But the Drops feels off. Too small. Too temporary.
I walk back to the bed and lean over them. “Would you like to go outside?” I ask, suddenly worried they haven’t moved in over seven hours.
Dewdrop opens one eye, then nestles closer into Raindrop. Raindrop rolls onto his back, fully splayed out, lips falling back into a loose, doggy grin.
My heart melts. They are so cute. Guess that answers that.
“Do you want to eat?” I ask.
Both dogs explode off the bed and tear down the hallway toward the kitchen, nails skidding on hardwood and tile.
Priorities established. Food. Then sleep.
I follow them downstairs, grabbing my phone to text Meg.
Sending the Drops out into the yard. Watch your step.
As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I hear the chime of Meg’s phone.
“Morning,” she calls. “I was already here to get coffee. And no, I don’t think they’re guard dogs.”
I laugh as I guide the dogs out into the backyard.
“It has to feel like it belongs to them before they’ll guard it,” I tell her.
My phone vibrates in my hand. I ignore it. The only person I am messaging is already here.
It vibrates again. And again.
With a small, irritated growl, I check my notifications.
I have hundreds of emails.
“Does buying a house sign you up for some kind of spam list?” I ask Meg.
I cross to the counter and set my phone down.
