Bambina - secrets revealed

18. Dark

Morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. I wake up in Raphaelle's arms, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my back. For a moment, I just lie there, savoring the quiet intimacy of the morning.

Raphaelle stirs, his hand gently tracing patterns on my arm. "Morning, babydoll," he murmurs, his voice still husky with sleep. Oh how I love his morning voice. 

"Morning," I reply, turning to face him. "Did you sleep well?"

"Always do when you're with me," he says with a lazy smile. His fingers brush a strand of hair from my face, and he leans in to kiss my forehead. "What's on your mind?"

I hesitate, the weight of yesterday's conversation lingering in the air. "Just... thinking about everything. The wedding... it's so soon."

His expression turns serious. "Are you not sure?" 

"Of course I am sure," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... I'm nervous. What if I make a fool out of myself." 

Raphaelle pulls me closer, his arms wrapping around me protectively. "Babydoll. You could never." 

Tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them away, not wanting to start the day on a somber note. "Thank you," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He chuckles softly, his breath warm against my cheek. "Luckily, you'll never have to find out."

He then kisses my forehead, "because you're stuck with me." 

We spend a few more moments in the comforting silence before the demands of the day begin to intrude. Reluctantly, we disentangle ourselves from each other and get ready to face the day.

As we sit down for breakfast, Raphaelle reaches across the table to take my hand. "Have you thought about what types of flowers you want in your bouquet?" 

I sigh, "I don't know. Something pink? And white?"

"Sounds like you," Raphaelle agrees. "You want to do it on your own, or should I just put our trust in Chiara's expertise?" 

"Chiara's better at this stuff than I am," I promise, squeezing his hand. "As long as pink and white are in the descriptions, she'll nail it." 

"Then I'll tell her to arrange that," he replies with a reassuring smile. "Now, daddy has got to work. Why don't you enjoy the nice weather. Perhaps we can do a picnic for lunch? Just the two of us." 

The thought of some alone time with Raphaelle lifts my spirits. "I'd love that."

The rest of the morning passes in a blur of activity. Raphaelle heads to his office, leaving me to my own devices. I decide to take his advice and spend some time outside. The garden is lush and green, the flowers in full bloom. I wander among the beds, inhaling the sweet scent of roses and jasmine. It's a peaceful retreat, a haven away from the worries and stress of wedding planning.

I find a bench under a sprawling oak tree and sit down, letting the tranquility wash over me. As I sit there, my thoughts drift back to our conversation this morning. The nervousness is still there, a gnawing anxiety that I can't quite shake. I want everything to be perfect, not just for me, but for Raphaelle too. I know how much this wedding means to him, to us.

Lost in thought, I don't notice Chiara calling me until Raphaelle's shouting through the window.

I quickly get my phone from my pocket, answering her facetime call, smiling at her through the screen, grateful for the distraction. "Hi," I say. 

"Hey," she begins, "Raphaelle just told me about the bouquet." 

I nod. "Yeah. Do you mind?" 

Chiara shakes her head, her expression softening. "No, not at all. Raphaelle mentioned you want pink and white?"