Rose 2.37: Foolish

     I walk into the house, find my wife in the kitchen, and pull her quickly into my arms to kiss her. She makes a surprised noise but happily kisses me back.
     Inside, my heart races in fear. I could never catch the photographer. He must be a very successful paparazzi member because he's apparently very good at hiding. I have no idea where he went. I didn't return to Willow after chasing him. I don't know where she is right now, and I don't want to know.
     How could I have done such a thing? I kissed her like my life depended upon it! Why? I love Tiffany. Do I miss my old life? Willow called me a free spirit, and I really liked it.
     I need to look into Tiffany's eyes.

     I pull back; she smiles at me, and part of me relaxes. It was a mistake, a momentary lapse of good judgement. I don't want my old life. I want this one.
     "What was that about?" she asks me happily.

     "A man can't come into the kitchen and kiss his beautiful wife?" I ask as a way to explain my actions.
     She lightly chuckles at me, and I decide right now that she must never know what just happened. I'm not that big a celebrity, so those pictures will probably never make the paper's gossip column or any of the tabloids.
     "I guess he can; I'm just surprised," she replies.

     I pull her to me again, treasuring the feel of her in my arms. "Have you forgotten how much I passionately love you?" Even if I just did something very stupid? I finish in my mind.
     "Oh, Donovan," she breathes and relaxes into me.

     The next few days are bliss itself. I am madly in love with Tiffany, and she lets me show it at every opportunity. Her smiles are warm and loving, and I decide I want to have another child with her. Maybe this time we will have a girl, but another boy wouldn't be bad either.
     This evening, I come through the front door thinking, I wonder how Tiffany will react when I tell her that I want to have another child. If we have another one soon, the new child and Lorenzo could play together. My wife comes down the stairs, and I smile at her.
     She doesn't smile back, and I notice her eyes are red. In her hand, she holds today's paper. After walking purposefully up to me, she slams the folded paper against my chest, and my heart drops into my stomach.
     "I don't often read the paper," she says, "but I did today."
     No, I gasp in my head. It's been days since my mistake! How could it be that? Surely, he would've reported on it sooner than now. I need to sit down.

     "Read it, Donovan," she commands, and I have a seat at the table, dreading what my eyes are about to see.

     'Don Viccini's New Wife Caught Kissing Local Man, Son of Pedro Robles,' the headline reads. My father is....very famous because of his books.
     Tiffany screams at me, "And she's married too!"
     I hadn't even bothered to acknowledge the paparazzi as I'd walked into the house. A few are frequently there, hoping for something about my father. There were a bit more, but Papa has released a new book. Now, I know why they were there.
     "This was a mistake," I gasp out.

     "It sure doesn't look like you thought it was a mistake while it was happening, does it?" she accuses, and my hands shake as they hold the paper.
     "It was an accident," I plead while my eyes stay glued in shock to the picture of me kissing Willow.
     "You said you wouldn't do this to me! You said I was..." She can't finish, and when I look up at her, her crushed expression rips my heart in two.

     I throw the paper down on the table and jump up to embrace her. She folds her arms and doesn't let me. I hold her shoulders anyway and finish her sentence, "That you are the only woman I love. It's true. Tiffany, you must believe me when I say this was a mistake. We were talking. I was trying to convince her to leave her husband." S---! I think too late.
     Tiffany's beautiful, hurt-filled eyes snap up to me. "Yes, that's exactly what it looks like you were doing," she snarls and tries to get me to let go of her. I won't.
     "Not like that!" I quickly say in a begging voice. "He was cruel to her, and I was telling her she didn't have to live like that!"
     "So you kiss her? Call me stupid, but to me, that looks like you were saying she could leave him and come to you!" She breaks free from my hold of her shoulders and backs away, headed towards the stairs.

     I follow her, and she throws up a weak hand to try and stop me. I won't let it. I must make her understand!
     "I was telling her she was better than that. I was telling her to go back to university, finish her degree, and live her own life free from the tyranny of her father and husband," I say and reach up to hold her chin in my hand, making her look at me. "It was a horrible mistake, Tiffany."
     Her voice sounds breathless as she says, "And I believed...you'd changed. I believed that your earlier fooling around was only a...phase. But now I finally see that that's who you really are, nothing but a philanderer. I can't believe I was so stupid!"
     "No!" I cry out, and she backs away from me some more, fear of me in her eyes.
     Fear? Why is she afraid? Then I understand. She fears that I can kiss my way out of this disaster.
     "Tiffany, I love you. I made a mistake. I knew it was a mistake the moment it happened."
     "Why were you even there with her?"
     "I didn't know it would be her. I was going to buy land so you could have your garden. I was there for you. I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to see your face light up with joy when I'd told you that I purchased land just for you."
      Her back now presses against the wall. "And instead, I got the worst kind of surprise."
      "Tiffany, I love you, only you. I don't love Willow. I'll spend the rest of my life reminding you of that," I beg, pressing her into the wall with my body. Her face turns any way it can to avoid letting me kiss her, but I've had enough of that. I pull back enough so that I can quickly wrap my arms around her, hold the back of her head, and kiss her desperately. She cries into my mouth, and I shake with my own frantic fear that she'll never forgive me.
     She fights me, and I hold her tighter. I will not give up! I need her to see, to feel that she's the only woman for me. When I worry about her being able to breathe, I release her lips to kiss her neck, and I plead into it, "Please, Tiffany. Please, believe me. I love you."
     Tears fall from her eyes, and I kiss them away. She has stopped fighting me, so I relax my hold of her, cradling her to me. The more I kiss her, the more she relaxes. I need to take her upstairs. I know that won't solve everything, but I believe it will help.
     I start pulling her towards the stairs, and she suddenly stiffens, rigid in my arms. "No, Donovan."
     "Let me show you how much I love you," I say, kissing her shoulder and urging her towards the stairs. If I could just get her up there...
     I pick her up.

     She gasps in shock.
     "I'm going to carry you up the stairs," I tell her, hoping to calm her.
     "No!" she cries out.
     "It's okay. You're feather light," I say, thinking she might be worried I'll trip.
     "Donovan, don't. I can't let you!" she exclaims desperately and violently tries to wiggle free. I have to adjust my hold. I'm glad my parents aren't home to witness our fight. They're at the park, pushing Lorenzo around in the stroller.
     "You can't let me love you?" I ask incredulously, my foot on the first step. "Stop fighting me, Tiffany. Let me make my mistake up to you, prove to you that you are and always will be the only woman for me."
     A green light glows on her arms for a split second before I'm vaguely aware of being thrown backwards.

     I wake up on the floor with a massive headache. What?
     Tiffany! I think in shock and look around for her. She's nowhere to be found. I slowly bring myself to stand.

     She's gone. She left me.

     Tiffany! Oh, maker! She's gone! I sob into my hands. I'm an idiot! Why did I do such a fooling thing?

     I hear my parents happily chatting outside. Occasionally, a rude question from a reporter fires at them, but they pretend not to hear.
     I cannot let them see me right now. I do not know how to tell them that my wife just left me. I move as fast as my headache will allow as I quickly go upstairs.

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