Anastasia's gaze slides on the marriage's principles inked in silver letters on the white cardboard. Last time, she hasn't noticed them, but now, they are catching her eyes and her breath. Honesty, commitment, communication, faithfulness...
"He is really charming!"
The image of Nathaniel's charming smile appearing in her mind upon her mom's words pulls her out of her conflicting reflection, though she doesn't find more breath.
"Uh... what?"
"Fergus, I was telling you he is charming."
Coming from their mom, this is something that would reassure any bride-to-be, yet it is only strengthening the uneasiness invading Anastasia's lungs today.
"I mean I've already found him charming before, but I'd only seen him for about five minutes," she adds in front of her daughter's wide stare.
'Charming', that's what Anastasia has found Fergus the first time she has met him; however, with time, the charms seem to dispel more and more. Now, 'charming' only brings her mind back to someone else's spellbinding smile and magnetic dark eyes.
She nods and forces a smile anyway, focusing on removing the pastries from the box, and at the sight of the small, round cakes covered in shiny orange icing and sprinkled with a few flakes of gold, her smile becomes easy and natural.
She can still feel the sweet cream on the tip of her tongue, and her mouth is watering for something else: a unique taste and smooth, taut texture. The heat rushes to her cheeks as the memories flash in her mind. Luckily her mom is concentrated on the dishes she is putting in the dishwasher, so she doesn't notice her daughter getting flustered in front of little cakes.
Though her cheeks might still be warm when her mom comes back in front of her with a stack of dessert plates in her hands.
"Do you need help?"
"No, I've finished." Anastasia shakes her head, putting the last piece of cake on the white angular plate, which is now covered with dots of orangey, and as the silhouette of her multi-tasking mom is already exiting the kitchen, she discreetly pulls out her phone and snaps a pic.
She clicks 'send', as she doesn't have time to write a proper message, and the pastries don't need it; they are already perfect, even though the 3D image cannot convey their delicious sugary scent.
It isn't the colorful photo she is staring at anyway; her gaze is on the long list of texts already exchanged with this recipient. She really has to delete them, but she can't bring herself to. They're nothing special, just small and casual talks; however, they could become dangerous pieces of evidence.
She hasn't seen Nathaniel since all his revelations yesterday. Yet they have kept in contact almost non-stop through their phones. He has called her last night to make sure she has got home safely and that she has been alright after everything she has discovered. 'Alright' may not be the best word to describe how she is feeling since then, but hearing his voice has felt right in all of this.
He has seemed surprised when she has first answered the phone, his voice wavering through a sigh of relief as if he had been expecting he would never hear her accent again. From then, they have texted almost every hour, keeping it very light and avoiding cautiously the serious matters weighing on their stomachs.
He has been answering each of her texts immediately, and now, she is fixing the screen, waiting for the typical vibration of her phone, while the emptiness is sinking in.
She puts her phone back in her pocket and follows her mom before thinking too much, or making others think too much of her delay to bring the desserts.
Though as she passes the dining-room door, she feels the faint vibration on her thigh, traveling throughout her whole body and almost making her trip over her own feet and drop the plate full of pastries, and her heart really does stumble on its own beats in curiosity.
She has no doubt it's him, yet his answer could be anything, and it's maintaining the restless rhythm of her heart. It isn't the best when her hands are still full, and there are too many eyes that could be on hers.
So she calms her nerves with a deep breath, and she slows down her pace, if not the one of her heart, to reach her destination. Just a simple act to carry a plate of pastries becomes an impossible hardship, a fight between her vibrating heart and steady reason, and in-between, it is even hard to maintain her eyes on the precious cakes. However, the real trial might be after the finish line, which comes to her view in the form of the round table.
Half-empty glasses, full cups of coffee or tea, the neat stack of white plates her mom has just brought, and the bouquet of wildflowers Fergus has come with at the beginning of the evening, everything is matching perfectly, and around it is adding the finishing touch to the picture-perfect family dinner.
Her mom is already busying to make sure everyone is served in hot drinks, sugar, milk, or anything that could be possibly needed. Archie is sneakily watching something on his phone under the table – Anastasia wishes she could do the same, and she also envies his carefree innocence. Finally, the circle is ending with Fergus and her dad, who are deep in conversation, and the typical sign of her dad lifting the right corner of his mouth lets her know that Fergus's charms are working on him too.
In fact, Fergus appears to be completely fitting around the table, as if he had always been there. The large family portrait behind him is the only indication proving otherwise, yet it would be easy to already imagine a new one where he would be added to it.
Right now, Anastasia is the one feeling out of the picture, and even though this impression is extending inside her own body, she forces an ideal smile on her lips when her mom asks merrily,
"So these are the cakes you've chosen for the wedding?"
The plate Anastasia sets on the table grabs everyone's attention, making all eyes turn in her direction.
"Yes, I've chosen Vanilla and a unique creation of choux Dulce de Passion." Her voice softens naturally on the last words, which aren't her find, and even if everyone seems taken aback by this originality, they all accept the plates she serves them, their intrigued gaze sliding from Anastasia to the unknown cakes, all except Fergus who doesn't give a second glance to the content of his plate.
"Passion and dulce de leche?" he curls his upper lip, and she can already guess his thoughts on the dessert before he has even tasted a bite.
"I know it's original. It doesn't seem like they would go well together, but the sharp, fruity taste of passion is perfectly counterbalancing the creamy sweetness of the toffee."
"Baby, I thought we had agreed on vanilla and a classic fruit like strawberries?" he asks sweetly, yet his tone only makes Anastasia sick with too much sugar.
"This was before the cake tasting." Her cheeks heat up almost as much as the memories, but she hopes it can pass for the liveness of her words. "Try it. I promise it's delicious, and I've chosen vanilla as the second one too."
"Personally, I love it!" Archie barges in, the chou bun already making its way down his stomach.
Anastasia grins at her little brother. "Here, for your big full mouth!" She serves him with more pastries.
She doesn't know how she is keeping this enthusiasm in front of Fergus's grimace, but it must be thanks to the little cakes.
"This may be good, yet it isn't appropriate for a wedding," Fergus points out calmly, putting his hands flat in front of him, after pushing his plate two inches on the side, a detail that doesn't go unnoticed to her sharp eyes.
"Let's taste it!" Anastasia's mom suggests, maybe a little too cheerfully, as she recognizes the tensing muscles on her daughter's face, signs of a wild storm coming.
She knows her well, and while Anastasia sits down, the tempest growing inside doesn't settle down. For something so little, this is childish, yet she can't let it go, and this 'little' detail appears close to her heart.
She can inhale slowly, count to ten, or reason herself, but the air doesn't reach her lungs, the numbers turning into a countdown before the explosion, and the rational arguments being swept away by the storm as she catches sight of Fergus's scowl out of the corner of her eye.
Maybe something else could reach her chest and calm her anger, someone who always makes her forget everything...
"It's not bad." Fergus's comment stops Anastasia's fingers on the unlock of her phone's screen. "But I prefer by far Vanilla."
"Donc, it's perfect! You've got Vanilla, and I've got Dulce de Passion. Everyone is happy." She offers him a tight smile before glancing between her parents on each side of the table. "And you? What do you think?"
"I like the Dulce. It's... hmm... interesting." Her dad finishes his last bite of the choux bun, a concentrated frown creasing his eyebrows and adding more wrinkles on his forehead as he tries to decipher this original mix.
"And you, Mom?"
"Um..." For a simple dessert, the pressure can be felt all around the room as everyone's expectant eyes are on her, particularly a pair of hazel ones that have kept the same determined sparkle she has known for 22 years now. "Both are really good," she concludes with a sheepish smile, which she quickly hides behind her cup of tea.
"Ana, baby, I think it's better to choose classic flavors, and that's what we like best anyway," Fergus calls Anastasia's attention, searching for her eyes across the table, but she can't bring herself to look at him. "There is still one month before the wedding, so I'm sure that won't be a problem to modify the flavors." His tone is getting coated with more sugar with each word. "What are the other flavors?"
If he thinks she doesn't see him coming from a mile around with his dodging techniques, he is underestimating his future wife.
'A really addicting flavor of sexy Captain', the thought of replying this crosses Anastasia's mind and tickles her lips, yet she knows better, and she also has techniques to win an argument.
"You can change the Vanilla if you want, but I won't back down for the Dulce de Passion." She holds Fergus's gaze determinedly, meeting the same stubbornness, along with something else that she has already seen and that always leaves her shivering on a bad feeling.
She can't put a name on it; this is more an impression, an echo that is now resonating louder with every dark cloud she is trying to solve. As he is not looking away and it is growing more and more blatant in his eyes, she can almost seize it.
"Marriage is also about these discussions and compromises, right Dennis?" Her mom interrupts their stares just as Anastasia has been about to read it.
"Mom..." she warns because she knows exactly where her mom is going.
Unfortunately, she has inherited her determination from her parents, even though they have less tact than she does.
"Yes, it is always," her dad agrees like always with a slow nod, and from the way his eyebrows are slowly lowering, Anastasia knows there is more to come, a disastrous mission coming, more exactly, which she doesn't want to witness.
So she finally takes a bite of her choux bun, savoring the fruity sharp taste titillating her taste buds before a creamy sweetness engulfs it all. Yet something is still missing on the tip of her tongue, and it isn't in the various plates on the table that she finds it as her gaze instinctively makes its way down under the table.
'Yum, it looks delicious. But right now I'm craving something even sweeter... ;)'
She almost chokes on her mouthful, though she is quick to type her reply, all her senses tingling deliciously at the possible innuendo.
'And what is it?'
She takes the other half of her new favorite pastry, the unique flavor completed perfectly by the foretaste of Nathaniel, and now, she is left wanting more as sensual memories flood her mind and body.
'You.'
The immediate and short reply sends her in a whirlwind of sensations, more than any perfect combination of savors could ever, and the most surprising might be that it is not the throbbing in her core that is the louder but the fast thumps of her heart.
'And I'm really really hungry.'
The text pops up before her eyes on the screen. His one-word reply has been enough, and this time, she is burning in every part of her body.
What can she answer to this? 'Devour me, please. I'm melting?' That may be a little too much, even though it's the truth from her body, and it wouldn't be the first time Nathaniel eats her up as she offers herself to him.
Nonetheless, her fingers aren't as bold in front of her phone, staying hovering over the keyboard and all the letters that could form so many words, while her heart is beating too fast to think coherently. It is easier when she has his tender, yet carnal chocolate eyes shining in front of her.
She tries to picture them as she is racking her brain for the perfect reply, but the memories only leave her more speechless and breathless, while her body is tingling with ideas, and her cheeks are turning redder with each one.
She might really explode if it keeps going, and it is dangerous as she remembers where she is and who can possibly see her red cheeks.
Thus she averts her gaze away from the reason behind her burning state before anyone can notice, although it is harder to divert her attention.
"I agree with you, Fergus."
These few words leaving her dad's mouth make her fall out of her daze, and it is a harsh drop on the ground.
She should be happy of the sympathy forming between her dad and her future husband, yet it feels like a sour betrayal in her throat without even knowing what they are talking about.
"I'm not tranquil with all those rebel attacks."
Her heart leaps in a jump so high that it pumps all the blood from her face, and she blinks her wide eyes at her dad as if it could help her comprehend if she has heard it right and why he is talking about that.
But the lines between his eyebrows don't tell her much, and it is Fergus who enlightens her confusion with another one of his acute arguments.
"That's what I think all the time when she tells me that she is in class. I would be more reassured if she was with me."
She now gapes between both of them. Are they really talking about her as if she wasn't right beside them? The way they are glancing at her worriedly like she is a poor nestling already injured makes it pretty clear, and she can't even hold their gazes, searching at her left for some support. Yet the expression in her mom's eyes is hardly better, holding a mix of fear and empathy, and at her right, Archie is still on his phone.
Her fingers are grasping her own phone tighter under the table, the same way she has always found strength in the pendant she isn't wearing today, though maybe her fingers are just itching to write a reply.
"There can be attacks anywhere, and there is no proof that it has been the rebels for the university's fire," she speaks up, the words escaping from her mouth before she can even stop or slow them down; they are springing from everything she is keeping inside lately.
But it at least makes her enter the conversation, and her dad acknowledges her with more than a pitiful look, his eyebrows furrowing the same way as hers, even if his are dark blond going on gray, matching his short hair.
"What do you mean?"
He knows his daughter's arguments are always justified and well-thought, and that's why she has to choose her words carefully.
"I mean there is no proof, and why would they target a place where they supposedly have most of their bases and members?"
"Because they're the bad ones," Fergus immediately replies, and it could have been Anastasia's answer not long ago.
Yet now, she only hears Hadi's words resonating inside. She is believing a stranger more than her future husband.
"Besides, it's even more frightening to know all those dangerous people are around you all day." Fergus lays perfectly the arguments of his sound plea, and her chest would probably swell with pride and warmth if he wasn't turning everyone to his side, which is against her.
But here, there's only burning bitterness.
"They aren't that dangerous!"
'Dangerous', many things are dangerous, and she is nearing them lately. Maybe the rebels are the least dangerous in all of this. Of course, Hadi has scared her first, but now that she knows more, the freezing shivers coming with the memory aren't because of his cold gaze.
She can't weigh what is dangerous, what is right and wrong anymore. She needs more time to treat every piece of information she has discovered and that she is still discovering. However, she won't let anyone decide for her.
"Why are you defending them so much?" Her dad's calm yet severe voice cuts off everyone's possible arguments more than any impartial judge at the criminal court.
Even Archie lifts up his head, recognizing the tone announcing nothing good.
Images of the hell Nathaniel has talked about flash before her eyes. She has been trying to imagine it since yesterday, but it is the first time that it appears so clear, maybe even so close. The seriousness of just asking for answers is settling in the deafening silence of what has been the familiar and warm dining room just minutes ago.
"I'm not... I'm just defending my dream..."
She isn't even sure about this dream anymore, yet she is certain that the prospect of becoming the little docile housewife at Fergus's farm still appears like a nightmare.
So avoiding her dad's piercing frown, she replies with the only safe argument, "And no one has ever bothered me."
She doesn't wait for a reply or another counter-argument from anyone around the table, standing up and grabbing the now-empty white plate of pastries. "Mom, I'll help you clear the table."
She doesn't risk glancing at anyone either, escaping her parents' gazes that are seeing too easily through her and Fergus's eyes where she can guess the determined and inflexible hazel leaving her cold to the bone.
She already knows he will lay another argument for a fight he will have the last word in, anyway, and for a second, as she passes the dining-room door, she wonders what it would be like if it was tender chocolate eyes instead.
Nathaniel appears stubborn when it comes to her protection, yet he has encouraged her all the time, and something tells her that he always tries to do everything in people's best interest. With his gentle smile and smooth remarks, he would have probably eased the tension and not have sparked it with twisted flares.
She almost drops the dishes in her hands when she realizes the path of her thoughts. This is foolish anyway, and the first reason that comes to her mind isn't even the decree she knows by heart, not even the dangers.
Just a look at the table is enough to see that Nathaniel wouldn't fit in this plain and small room. He is used to much more grandeur, even if his humbleness makes her forget it most of the time and makes it so easy for her thoughts to wander.
She shakes her head at the impossibility of it all, and she goes back to her realistic task, making sure to hold the dishes carefully, although she can't do it with her heart, and as soon as the plates are in the dishwasher, she pulls out her phone and her fingers type with no hesitation.
'Tomorrow morning for breakfast?'
Who is hungry again? 😉😋
But more seriously, what do you think of this new little picture-perfect family? Tell me in the comments!! 😁 And vote if you liked this chapter! ❤
Like I always say, you and the little notifications I get from you are my rays of sunlight 🌞😁❤ and as the Summer is coming to an end, my days are still illuminated thanks to you 😉 So I wanna thank you from the bottom of my heart! You don't know how much I love you all!! ❤❤❤❤
PS: Donc = So 🤓😁 That was the little French lesson of the week!