V A U G H N
07 | questions
The moment I step into the hall, I am greeted by a scene that takes me into reverie. It takes time to process what I am looking at. I blink to take the picture of my little wife running up around the large table that has been brought to the center of the hall, arranging shiny culinary items, sparkling china, and a fine bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, while grinning to herself.
The lights have been dimmed to mostly darkness, leaving only the luminance of the chandelier above, accompanied by the light of the candles strung all around the hall. Absolute silence baths the place and I immediately find myself trying to recall which occasion I may have forgotten this time.
I walk with calculated steps toward the table, making my lovely wife — dressed in a black dress that hugs her body, fitting her like a second skin — look up. The straps of the little dress are loose over her shoulders, looking like one slight brush would have them sliding down her arms to expose her tits. Her grin widens. She looks primer than usual tonight. Her make-up is natural, accentuating the sharpness of her face but not enough to hide the scar that she still has on her because of Noah Striker. Her blonde hair is loose, the bouncy waves framing her face.
"You're home early," she gushes, briskly walking toward me.
She doesn't hug me, stopping with her hands outstretched in the air as if she promptly had an epiphany. I follow the movement of her throat as she gulps, and her eyes close momentarily before she is dropping her hands from the air, instead touching the sleeve of my suit with soft fingers.
"What's all this?" I ask, placing one hand on the hip while the other gestures to the table.
"I did all this." Claire drops her hand from my sleeve like she has been jolted to reality by my words. "Made your favorite dishes and thought we could have some alone time together."
"Where's everyone?"
"They have gone to stay at the beach house. It's just you and me."
She shifts on her feet, her heel tapping on the marble flooring with an agitation that drags her shoulders down. I dip my eyebrows, pinching the spot between them with my fingers as a sigh escapes past my lips.
Without acknowledging her, I turn toward the stairs.
"Where are you going?" Claire intrudes, making me halt when I climb past the first step.
"I'm tired, Claire," I tell her.
"But I wanted to have dinner with you."
Another sign — a deeper one — sags my shoulders as I turn back to face her. I climb down the stairs, walking to the table and shrugging my suit off my body. I hang it on one of the chairs before facing her. I cross my arms, standing just a foot away from her.
"Just give up, Claire. It's not going to change anything," I deadpan and her expression falls.
"What do you mean? I just wanted to have dinner with you." She doesn't meet my eyes as she glances at the table.
"I get it. You're trying to win me over but it's not working." I uncross my arms, placing them back on my hips because I feel like a dick saying all that to her. "Being around you only reminds me of whatever happened. It reminds me of how you made a joke about my feelings. So...give up trying."
"Vaughn...what's wrong with you? Don't do this. It's affecting the kids."
She steps closer, reaching for my hands. I let her draw me close as she squeezes my fingers, her lips shaking while her eyes turn moist.
YOU ARE READING
Dearly Beloved
Romansa[AN ENEMY BELOVED NOVELLA] It has been sixteen years since Vaughn and Claire found their happiness together. Life couldn't be more filled with joy for them. That is until a safely kept secret comes out in the open - making them question their trust...
