to my room together that evening. When Damian opened the door, it looked as though the flowers had doubled. I gaped at him. He grinned and tugged me close.
“What is this?” I asked. “It looks like a floral shop threw up in here.”
Damian shrugged.
“When did you…Why?”
Damian didn’t say anything. He took my hand and led me into the room. I closed my eyes and let the scent of the flowers envelop me. In my mind, I imagined standing in a field of roses with the moon shining above me and the breeze sweeping up the long hair I used to have. I pictured Damian walking toward me wearing a tuxedo and holding more roses. He was smiling wildly. I glanced down and like magic, a beautiful gown of gray and white taffeta and sheers covered me and blew behind me in the wind.
When I opened my eyes, Damian stood behind me, his fingers moving slowly over the back of my neck. His lips followed his touch. My eyelids fell closed again, but this time I wasn’t transported to the field of flowers. I stayed in the moment, concentrating on each touch, each delicate kiss.
His fingers moved from the back of my neck to my front, his hands gliding over the top of my chest. Air caught in my throat. Damian’s lips moved to nibble on my ear. I gasped, and felt Damian grin against my neck.
When I opened my eyes, a chain with a silver heart rested around my neck. Inside the heart were three silver arrowed loops; two pointing out, one straining down. I lifted the charm off my chest and stared at it in the palm of my hand.
" It’s the Celtic symbol for hope," Damian murmured in my ear. "Now you’ll always know where to find it."
“It’s beautiful,” I said, remembering the tattoos on his chest and arm. I turned to face him. “Damian, thank—”
He put a finger over my lips, stopping me. Then he kissed me with everything he had.
~* ~
Since I couldn’t go anywhere, Damian came over the next day. He walked in on a game of Rook between my mother and me.
“Do you know how to play?” my mom offered.
“Uh,” Damian glanced at me and snickered. “No, I don’t.”
I grimaced. “We can’t have that! Deal him in, Mom!”
While trying to explain the rules, my dad came home from a Saturday morning at the office. He put the boxes of fresh pizzas on the table and shook Damian’s hand.
“They sucker you into playing?”
“Sort of,” Damian answered, staring at his hand.
Dad leaned over his shoulder and gave him some pointers as Mom and I headed for the kitchen for paper plates and soda. Holding a glass in each hand, I stopped at the entryway to the dining room. My dad and Damian were laughing together. Mom came up beside me and paused. She watched for a few seconds, then nodded at me.
“Did I tell you that when I was pregnant with you, the ultrasound said you were a boy?”
I cocked my head to the side. “No, you didn’t.”
She laughed. “Yes. Your father was so excited; he always wanted a son.”
Turning my attention back to the dining room table, I noticed my father’s hand resting on Damian’s shoulder.
“He went all out on your nursery, decking it out in all sorts of sports stuff.” She chuckled. “When you were born and the doctor announced that you were a girl, I’ll never forget the disappointment on your father’s face.”
“Disappointment? In me ?”
Dad gave Damian a high five in the other room. Damian put down his cards, and I was sure that the conversation had nothing to do with the card game.
“But then, I placed you in his arms. You stared up at him with your big brown eyes, and he’s never looked away since.”
A lump swelled in my throat as I watched my dad interact with Damian. I couldn’t help but wonder what if…what if I didn’t pull through.
My hand instinctively went to the charm around my neck. ' It’s the Celtic symbol for hope. Now you’ll always know where to find it.' I squeezed it. There were no “what if’s.” I would defeat this thing once and for
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