Her Nectar, His Peak

Melanie.

Friday, next day.

Am wearing one of the dresses Malachi bought. A black, velvet off shoulder, slit dress. Matching elbow length silk gloves. Expensive diamonds on my neck, ears and my wrists. My short bob curls, held in a neat chignon. 

I look classy and radiant. My eyes catch my wedding ring on my finger and I admire it. Am almost falling for the idea of being his wife, when I know that he only married me to have a legitimate child and acquire his father's entire empire. 

Disappointment creeps into me, because I know am not really a wife to Malachi. Am pretend.

A knock comes on the door and I straighten.

"Come in." 

 Funny thing, I've come to memorize Malachi's knocks. It's usually a quiet and rapid tap, tap, tap.

For a man I barely know, I've come to know certain things already about him. One he hates lies. Two he chews his food demurely. He's taciturn. Three, he picks weird stuff from his food. I didn't even know that much about Mitch. Not like I've spent much time with Malachi. But the little I have, it's weird I can even notice them. 

Yesterday when he acknowledged he took us to that restaurant because he wanted me to have a piece of home again, I melted.

An ache which has remained inside me, since my family left melded into me. Became fluid; was no longer stone in my heart. 

Malachi walks in. His eyes regard me, appreciatively. I swallow, unnerved by the intensity of his penetrative gaze.

He's cleaned up nice. Not like he doesn't clean up nice. But tonight, he's really formal. Dressed in a black tux. I wonder what kinda parents he has that have dinner in formal clothes. 

"You look beautiful." He smiles.

I'm astonished at the compliment. Coming from the taciturn Malachi. I lower my eyes shyly, twisting the bracelet on my wrist. 

"My family is…" He trials off, chuckling lightly. I've never heard him chuckle. The timbre of the sound, delightful. 

"My family is very intense. Has always been." He pauses, watching my reaction. "Everyone will be around tonight for the dinner. They want to meet you. Don't feel over swamped by them." He warns, gently.

I gauge him; my heart thudding fast in my chest. I don't want to slip. He's already doing so much for me. I don't want to disappoint him. 

Wordlessly, I nod. When he's certain am ready, we leave.

*** 

Am surrounded by Tenshaws. The entire tables, filled with men and women, all dressed elegantly for the evening.

Malachi underestimated them. It isn't just dinner. It's a whole get together. 

Am tensed, my fingers clutching tight to my cutlery. I've barely eaten. The estate is huge. Casa Tenshaw is magnificent; boasting opulence and radiance. And the close knit relationship between the family is remarkable. 

"Mio Caro, you haven't eaten dear." His mum, Maria says, quietly. She's sitting beside her husband. Her beautiful face, aging with grace. 

"No, Ma'am…"

"Ma'am? No daughter of mine would call me Ma'am. Call me mother. Can you do that for me?" She smiles affectionately.

I swallow hard, tears pooling in my eyes as I watch her. The tears fall, a wave of joy washing over me. 

When we first entered, it seemed they had all been expecting us. Funny thing, they didn't even ask how we met. They were completely warm.

There was such excitement and they embraced me with joy. His father and mother treated me like they've known me before. I puzzled at it.

His dad even embraced me. I could swear I saw a tear in his eye, when he pulled away from the embrace.

And now, his mum has asked I call her mother. Warmth fills me. This might be a means to an end for both Malachi and I. But in this moment, this earnest request from his mum, means a lot.

"Si, Madre." I nod, slowly.

She smiles, her eyes filled with tears. Am surprised by this turn of events. Our entire table, spell bound by the profound moment. The others eyeing us, warmly. And I wonder if Malachi equally feels it.

I steal a furtive glance and find he's watching me, keenly. Sitting across from me, silent. His cutlery picking his food, absently.

In his eyes, there's this deep emotion, but I can't fathom it. I wish I can. 

"I'd also want you to call me Padre, Mio. I hope you can do that?" His father equally adds, dragging our focus. 

I've heard about Justin Tenshaw and his rigidness. And in sincerity, I never imagined I'd meet him someday.

But today, am his daughter in law. Even though nothing feasible exists between me and his son. And he's asking me to call him father. 

My gaze falls on Malachi for a second and I finally see it. A supplication. A reassurance. It's imperceptible, but I notice it, nonetheless.

Using that as an anchor, I turn back to Justin Tenshaw. In him, I see dad and I know I really miss dad. I don't hesitate further. 

"Si, Padre." I chuckle, the tears falling freely now.

Everyone cheers happily, while I use the chance to wipe my tears. 

After dinner, I go outside the balcony for some air.

The men are inside, drinking, while the women are teaching the younger women tarantella and other folk dances. The sight made me miss my own family and I didn't want to ruin the moment with my sorrow.

I recall how I used to dance the flamenco with mum and my sisters. I sit on a divan, watching the stars. 

"They're your family now, Melanie." 

My eyes turn sharply to that warm voice. Tears welling in my eyes at his declaration. I don't know how he knows my thoughts. I don't know what to say. I just know am broken by his words.

"Don't ever forget it. You're now a Tenshaw; wife to Malachi Tenshaw. You have a family in me."