Wisdom’s POV
“You kissed her, Denver.”
“Wisdom, I am n—it’s not true. She kicked me!”
“But you kissed her!” I shouted; my two fists ready to fire like a cannonball.
“I didn’t,” he reasoned for the thousandth time. “I just fell on her face and—“
“Kissed her,” I blurted.
“What do you mean by that, Wisdom?”
“I rather see your face on the filthy floor than on the lips of a devil’s bitch.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I acknowledged my heart’s throbbing and my blood rising.
Denver Giordano laughed nervously, breathily. “So you rather want to see my face bloodied and filled with dirt than being kissed accidentally?”
I sneered. “Which part of it is the accident? Falling into her face or kissing her? You could have landed on her neck or dodged her whore of a face!”
“If I do that, we’ll still be arguing and you will be accusing me of necking her.” His eyes are angry and teary. And tired.
He hoisted his two hands in the air and exhaled. “Look Wisdom…”
“Look what?” I barked.
“Can’t you see what they are doing?” I remained speechless. He bit his lip as he put his two hands on his waist.
The room is so hot. The windows are shut and the air cooler has been turned off.
“How about you, Wisdom?” My brows raised. “Why did you kiss, Gerry? Don’t tell me he kicked you as well.”
“N—He didn’t. I…” I won’t tell him. I cannot tell him. That I only did that out of fear. “Look Denver, I know I’m a weak woman and—“
“And what? What’s the connection of it kissing him?” He leaned his head to the wall, making my feet tremble. That’s Denver’s way of saying that anger has now traveled its way from his heart to his brain. “Did he threaten you?”
I gasped in incredulity. “How did you know that?”
Denver sighed. Hands on his pocket as if he’s reaching for something—or maybe he’s just taking control of his hands so that he couldn’t punch the wall. “So he did threaten you.”
I nodded. I sat on the nearest chair so that I wouldn’t land on the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” He slowly strode towards me. “What are you sorry for?”
“For the kiss. And Ge—“
“You don’t have to be,” Denver exhaled. “Can’t you still see it, Wisdom?”
“Denver, I—Gerry threated me that he will play our sex video during the dinner so—“
But he just chuckled suddenly. I don’t know why or is it a signal from him that I should run away if I want to save my body from him.
“Wisdom…Wisdom…” He was now sitting beside me. He gestured to me that I sit on his lap.
“Sit.” Denver’s command is so stern that I could shed a tear just by the tone of his voice.
“Wisdom.” Then Denver hugged me.
He was like this cold teddy bear that had longed for his owner for a hug.
“Oh Denver!” I hugged him back, silently holding myself to not weep. I’m a woman who can cry or weep or sob easily like how it is easy to crack open an egg. I can cry anywhere, anytime. But holding it like how I tried to grip hold of my cascading tears now…this is a silent kind of torture, a quiet punishment that I deserve.
“You don’t have to cry, sweetheart. You see…”
He let me face him, and in a blink, he wiped away my cascading tears. “Don’t waste your tears for something you have done without free will. I want you to know that those pigs are pushing us to our own grave, using us as a puppet of our own downfall. The more you allow them to ruin your life—our life—the higher we have a chance to descend faster into that pit of insanity.”
I peered at his face and around us. “Do you understand?” he asked with so much hope that I understood.
“Yes.” I said without hesitation, reservation, or doubt. “Yes, I understand, Denver. That we are just mere pawns of those people and our real priority is not to be swept away by those shitheads.”
“That’s my girl,” then Denver Mikhail Giordano kissed my forehead.
And I kissed his.
***
Denver’s POV
Days had passed since Dyana Stevens and Gerry Grace had interrupted our vacation and visit at Paraiso de Rojos.
Since the day I proposed to Wisdom Linnea Weisz, I have been so eager to prepare our wedding with her—all the necessities, ephemeras, and things to be taken care of.
I am currently discussing with my wedding planner in this coffee shop while she is ordering something to drink and eat.
I suppose Wisdom will always never forget to drink and eat every time we have a meet up or we go outside the penthouse. Even when she was in the penthouse, food and beverages seemed to come and appear in one’s eyes endlessly.
“Here you go,” Wisdom gave Cherry, our transgender wedding planner, a cup of mocha frappuccino.
“And here is yours, honey,” I just smiled at her as I grabbed my macchiato and a strawberry donut.
Finally, after minutes of waiting to sit beside me, Wisdom is now finally seated at my right. In a glance, as I have predicted, the food she ordered is more like a lunch rather than just a snack.
“Wisdom…”
“Yes?” I gazed at her and her food back and forth.
“Oh! You want some?” I tried to not laugh but Cherry had softly giggled.
“Oh my! The way you eat…Ms. Wisdom, you are so outrageous!”
“Indeed she is,” I uttered.
Wisdom threw me a look but my face remains focused at Cherry.
“It seems you eat like a pregnant woman, Ms. Weisz,” I choked on my drink as soon as Cherry blurted out those words.
Wisdom, on the other hand, looks stunned. Dazed.
“Are you alright, sweetie?” I asked as I grabbed a piece of fries from her clubhouse sandwich.
“Yes,” she replied; her voice as soft as a bird's chirp.
She sliced her angus beef burger and devoured the potato chips. Every sound of her eating made me wonder about what Cherry said.
What if she really is pregnant? And if she is…I’m gonna be a father soon! I mused. I try to hide my grin by drinking my hot coffee.
My phone suddenly rang and I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Denver,” Jeez, the voice from the other line…it’s like from the Jigsaw doll in the Saw film franchise. Or maybe it’s computerized and manipulated to make it sound creepy and eerie.
“Get married, Denver.”
“Oh yeah,” I said with a cackle.
“Get married and you will never be able to see your bride on your wedding day.”
And the phone hangs up.
“What the fuck is that?” I looked to the window inside the coffee shop and saw Wisdom who just put down her phone and was silently shaking.
I beamed at her and rubbed her shoulder. “Hey, Wisdom!”
She didn’t look at me.
“Who called you?” I tried to remain calm and grinning.
“She was threatened by a horrendous voice,” Cherry uttered.
“What did the caller say?” I exhaled.
Cherry did not reply. Neither did she nodded or shook her head.
“He told me that if we push the marriage, you will never be able to appear on our wedding day,” Wisdom sobbed.