Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
I lean a shoulder against a tree, watching the celebration that takes place. Sabella managed what I never did. I tried to enforce respect with fear. She earned acceptance with her kindness. I fought to eradicate the stigma of my mother’s family with violence. Sabella did it without even trying. She succeeded where I failed simply by being who she is.
I thought her name would win me the honor mine lacked, but in the end, it’s much simpler than that. It’s not the bloodline I married into that matters but the woman to whom I gave my heart and my soul. It’s because of her that Powell signed the deal. Not because he admired her father, but because his wife loves Sabella. Because he loves his wife, and he’ll do anything to make her happy. Because he respects Sabella and the shark conservation work she does with Letitia.
I know, because I know what it’s like to love a woman so much that you’ll sacrifice your own happiness for hers. I know what it’s like to love a woman with such intensity that you’ll lay down your life for her. I know what it’s like when a monster falls in love with an angel. To love with a fire that consumes. To love for eternity. To be a slave to a woman when she’s tamed the monster.
I know what it is when possession fills your veins and obsession is the pulse that beats under your skin. When it drives you insane and so wild you can’t breathe.
Yeah, for the first time in my life, I know how it is to love deeply, madly, and darkly.
Chapter
Forty
Sabella
* * *
I stand a little to the side, observing the small party of people celebrating the big milestone of Mrs. Campana’s first swim in the sea. It’s not that I’m keeping to myself. I just want a moment to appreciate the magnitude and joy of her success simply because it’s so beautiful to watch.
It’s nice being present in the moment without reservations. The storms inside me are quiet. Those howling winds and violent thunder calmed. Their voices are gone. Faded. All that’s left is peace. Acceptance. A deep knowledge of who I am. Of knowing myself inside and out. Every dark and imperfect corner of my being. I not only became grateful for my body’s capability to heal and my spirit’s will to survive but I also came to respect their strength. I learned to cherish their perfectly imperfect beauty. I learned that what shapes us aren’t the circumstances over which we don’t have control but the strength and beauty that comes from within. And when I made that truth my own, I started loving myself intensely and tenderly. Sincerely and unconditionally.
It’s like a sun shining inside me, taking up all the room. There’s no more space for hate and vengeance or jealousy and animosity. Because I don’t need anyone else to love me. I love myself enough. I don’t need anyone else to survive, but I do enjoy and appreciate their company. What people say and think don’t affect me any longer. Others’ ill wishes can’t touch me.
Taking a step back and looking at life not from the onset that’s paved with the ignorant viewpoints of inexperience but backward from a deathbed helped me to see everything more clearly. It opened my eyes to what’s important. To whom people are when you flay them open to the bone. I know how to cut the toxic relationships out of my life as well as how to nurture the authentic ones. My experiences took me to war, but I came back a survivor instead of a victim. They gave me an enormous gift by armoring me with the most indestructible weapon of all—believing in myself.
A few people come over to say goodbye. Mr. Martin taxied three people at a time here with his boat, and it’s time to take them back to the village. The peace of mind that’s my constant companion these days fills me with a warm glow when the party dissolves and I climb up the steps that leads to the house.
Angelo stands at the top with his hands shoved in his pockets. His stance is relaxed, but he’s vigilant.
“Hey,” I say when I reach him, out of breath from the steep climb.
“Hey,” he replies, cutting a possessive gaze over me. “Go put on some clothes. I don’t want you walking around in front of my men like that.”
“Like what?” My smile is teasing. “In my swimsuit?”
“You’re a beautiful woman. They’re men. They’ll be tempted to look, and I don’t want to kill all of them. They’re good guards.”
“There was no need to change. I’m going for a shower anyway.” Walking around him, I continue, “I want to be ready when the kids get home.”