Designing Abigail Kilton's Dress - #1 The Wedding Dress

Chapter 33 - When Poetry is the Best Version of Truth

The morning light shone brightly over Kayleigh's face. She felt the glare of the sun even with her eyes closed. The song of the birds, the buzz of the bees made her smile.

What a beautiful way to wake up, she thought to herself. Then, the events of the night before came crashing down on her like an avalanche. The club, the cameras, the chase, the photos, and the tears.

Oh, dear Lord the tears. Not again!

She couldn't possibly be crying herself to sleep because of him again. It was like Kayleigh was transported back in time. The slam of the door. The ear-piercing silence. The crippling void.

Kayleigh kept her eyes closed for a moment longer. Did she really want to wake up to that? The sun was shining. The birds were happy. Why then did she just want to dive deeper into the thick blanket covering her, and hide there for days and days?

Her brows furrowed in confusion. Kayleigh didn't have a blanket when she finally threw herself on the hammock in the early hours of the morning.

She opened one curious eye and saw Marcus's large army coat sprawled over her tiny body. Her blue eyes grew at the sight of Marcus Burrows sitting on the floor beside her, head and back resting uncomfortably against the tree to which the hammock was tied. His large hand covered hers and rested by her head on the soft, white pillow. Her heart skipped a beat and a sly voice sang in her head, He came back.

Most of his long, blond hair was out of his hair tie. His lips were slightly parted and his beard was sticking out in odd places. Something about his features made her think that he wasn't calm, even though his breaths were even and quiet.

Kayleigh took the rare opportunity to study him carefully, and as she did, her chaos stilled. Her head suddenly cleared. She thought of the sea and of the sky. She pictured the sunrise so clearly over the horizon, ready to give life to the air, water and earth. Oh, how she missed watching the sunrise with him!

She wondered why he came back. Because of course, she knew why he left. Marcus Burrows always left. It was in his nature. He was just like the sun. He would go as high up into the sky as he could, warming her, lighting up her life. And then, when that warmth and light reached their climax, he would sink, slowly, slowly, until he plunged into the depths of the ocean, making room for a moon that could never shine as brightly. A dim, inconsistent distraction from the darkness of the night.

And Kayleigh could be content with it. With the stars. With the sound of owls and crickets instead of songbirds. After all, the night held its own peace and beauty. The black sky held its own suns. Millions of them. And even if none of those suns belonged to her, she could be content. If only her own sun didn't return the next morning, in all its warmth and glory, to remind her just how perfectly spectacular it was.

The night was beautiful. But the day was hers. And the sunrise that introduced it always took her breath away.

She tore her eyes away from him, hearing a faint vibration coming from the room. She gently pulled her hand out of Marcus's hold and tried to get off the hammock without waking him. But as she swung her legs off, the hammock twisted and flung her off like a sack of potatoes. Kayleigh screamed and held on to Marcus's neck as she landed on top of him.

Marcus startled awake and instinctively wrapped his arms around her, breaking her fall and laying her gently beside him with a soft grunt. His tired, hazel eyes inspected her until they found her lips. He ran his hands over her horror-stricken face, moving her ruffled hair away from her eyes. He fixed his jacket over her shoulders and ran his hands up and down her arms even though she showed no signs of being cold.

"Good morning," he croaked finally, clearing his throat. "Are you alright?"

Kayleigh nodded slowly. His hands were making their way up to her face again, his thumbs grazing her chin, her lips. She closed her eyes in hope of gaining enough strength to move away from him, but his pull on her was too strong. Where was her anger? Her hurt?