First Love Only Love (The Life 2)

No matter what, I will beat this and come out on top. I’d come too far to lose now. Victoria, though, of all the things I’m worried about, is at the top of the list. With me not there to rein her in, how is she coping? I hope they’re leaving her alone, not adding more pressure to her already strained psyche. Just a few more days, that’s all, and I’ll be out of here.

GABRIEL

I did it again. It was late in the night or early morning rather when I finally rolled away from her. Why is it that at the moment, in the heat of passion, the mind forgets everything, but the emotion and feelings as the body take over? But once that passion has been burnt to a cinder, reality comes rushing back, and your mistakes become superimposed on the brain?

In other words, my good intentions of not touching her again were pushed to the side for the last few hours of bliss, only to be followed now by regret as she sleeps in my arms. She’d fallen asleep seconds after I came this last time, too worn out from the party and me using her body to chase away my demons to keep her eyes open.

Good going, Gabriel, you used her; you’ve sunk to a new low even for you. Not even the memory of her being the aggressor once we reached the safety of my room dampened the reality that I should’ve been the one to stop it before it went this far.

Not only did I not put an end to it, but I also gorged myself. Whatever her intentions were when she fell into me and lured me towards the bed, I’m sure she had no idea what would happen once we got there. She’d bitten off more than she could chew, which would be funny if I wasn’t busy kicking my own ass for giving into her again.

Fine, I’ll give us this next week. I’ll wean her and myself of each other in that time while making sure she has a good time on what I’m sure is her first vacation anywhere since her mom died. She snuggled in close the way she does, and I finally closed my eyes, suddenly too tired to think.

GABRIEL

Breakfast in the morning was a riotous mess. Ma was in her element, having the whole family here, including the grands as well as Gianna’s relatives who had gone from talking about the party the night before to the upcoming trip to Paris and the ball. I learned that Gianna was going to be busy once we returned from the Caribbean, which is a good thing. It will give me time to put the finishing touches on the Fontane issue while gearing up for mine.

Aside from finding her the perfect gowns last minute, which they didn’t seem as worried about as the other stuff her invite entailed, there was a mind-numbing amount of crap she had to go through. I’d been there for my sisters’ and knew she had a long road ahead of her. I’d gained a whole new respect for the tradition after getting an up-close look from behind the scenes.

Before, I thought it was a lot of waste for what boiled down to just a party. But the way the women in my family act it’s almost like a rite of passage, and I can see why. Mind you; it still seems like a damn auction to me, where families go to show off their young marriageable daughters and sons. But things had changed some in the last century, I guess, and there was a whole lot more to it.

Gianna was getting a late start, but I’m glad she’d get to enjoy at least some of what she’d have had had her mom been alive. She looked spooked the more the conversation went on, once she realized all that she’d have to learn in the coming weeks. Even to the point that she questioned whether she should forego the trip to the island. I didn’t think she needed to, and I wanted her to have this trip for my own selfish reasons. I want those memories.

As far as I’m concerned, she doesn’t need that much help anyway. She’s already got the dancing part down, but etiquette and deportment were high on the list of these modern-day mavens of society, and the grandmothers were going full-on Trunchbull, which only seemed to up her uneasiness.

The twins were eating it up, but Gianna looked like she was about to turn green. “Stop worrying; you have impeccable manners; they’ll just be fine-tuning your innate grace.” I sound like Yeats or some crap, but it’s the truth. I’ve never known anyone with more natural grace, except Ma, of course. She nodded and went back to the conversation, seeming more at ease with time.