Hot Mess 3By: Stormy Glenn
Two years ago, to the night, my world changed when Lt. Salvador Delvecchio rescued me from a beatdown and decided I belonged to him. A year ago, he changed my life once again when he asked me to marry him. We were soul mates, which was why I was so confused that Sal wasn't there to celebrate our anniversary.
As I sat there alone, waiting on Sal, I had to wonder if the things I found important in life were important to Sal too.
Two years ago, to the night, I found the man of my dreams and rescued him from a beatdown. I grabbed on to him and refused to let go. I knew he felt the same when he agreed to marry me a year later. Lany would do everything to be with me, which was why I was so confused when he didn't come right to the hospital when he learned of my injuries.
As I sat there alone, waiting on Lany, I had to wonder if the things I found important in life were important to Lany too.
Two years ago, to the night, my world changed when Lt. Salvador Delvecchio rescued me from a beat down and decided I belonged to him. A year ago, he changed my life once again when he asked me to marry him. It had been a week after our actual one-year anniversary, but what’s a few days in the game of life?
As I sat at the impeccably decorated dining room table, set for a romantic dinner for two, I wondered if I would be spending my anniversary alone yet again. Sal had been due home from work two hours ago.
He still wasn’t here.
I had already eaten my way through the basket of breadsticks and drank a good portion of the wine I had chosen to go with the dinner I had cooked for our anniversary. I was ready to start chewing on my napkin.
Last year, when Sal had missed our special dinner, I had packed everything up, saved the food in the fridge, and gone to bed. I wasn’t so ready to do that this time.
I was pissed.
Sal had promised me he would be here tonight. I had written the date on the calendar, entered it into his phone, called him earlier today to remind him, and sent him a text. Three times. If he didn’t know we had special plans tonight, he had to be living on the moon.
I pressed my hand to my sternum, pretending the ache I felt was a hunger pain.
It wasn’t, but I was good at pretending.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. Time was going by faster than I could stop it. I wanted to stop it. I wanted to just hover in a bubble until Sal arrived and let me out. I didn’t like feeling as if the things that were important to me, didn’t matter to Sal.
I knew he loved me. I felt it every day.
Just, sometimes, I didn’t think I was his whole world.
He was mine.
I lived to breath Sal in. Cinnamon and whiskey. It was the scent I had come to associate with home, safety, and just about everything I craved. It was Sal’s scent.
I loved it.
I needed it.
I needed Sal.
I picked up my phone, hoping I had missed a phone call or a text.
No such luck.
I sent off another text asking Sal when he was going to be home. I hated sounding like I was nagging, but I was nagging.
If he was on another undercover operation without telling me, I was going to…to…to do something really mean.
Last year, he had been assigned an undercover operation. He had been ordered not to tell me. He had followed that order and it had led to more hell than anyone should ever have to endure. Sal had promised it would never happen again.
I prayed he was keeping his word.
Until I saw him, I had no way to be sure.
My heart lodged in my throat when my phone rang. I answered it without looking to see who was calling. “Sal?”
My shoulders slumped. “Oh, hey, Clarke.”
Sgt. Victor Clarke, the second-in-command of Sal’s SWAT team, and a good friend.
“Where are you?” The man’s voice had a frigid chill to it that was unexpected. I thought the guy liked me.
“At home,” I replied, growing confused. “Have you heard from Sal? Do you know—”
“No. I expected him home over two hours ago. I’ve been sitting here waiting for him. We’re supposed to be having dinner together.” I swallowed tightly. “It’s our anniversary.”
“No one called you?”
“Called me for what?” I sat up straight, bracing myself. “What’s going on, Clarke?”