“Bonita,” I interrupted. “Luis was crazy. He was going to snap somehow, no matter what. You had nothing to do with it.” Bonita smiled her thanks. We exchanged a few more pleasantries before Bonita went off in search of refreshment. On the stage we’d had temporarily assembled in the ballroom, the band was in full swing.
I had been in charge of the music for the evening, and I’d chosen a relatively new girl group I’d found called the Sinful Sisters. I’d been drawn by the lead singer, Ella, a tiny bubbly blonde with impressive curves and a voice that filled the room. She was killing it tonight, and I made a mental note to find her after the set to tell her so. The other two girls, whose names I couldn’t quite remember, struggled to keep up with her, casting her evil glances from time to time. I had a sneaking suspicion the band might not stay together very long, but I felt confident that Ella herself would go far.
“They are something,” my father said, quietly appearing by my side. I leaned comfortably against his shoulder. We had moved my father into his own wing of the mansion as soon as we’d all gotten settled, and I was thrilled to have him so close, to be able to make sure he was taking his medications and keeping up with his doctor’s visits. I could hardly believe the change I’d seen in such a short time. Gone were the periods of confusion and sudden fits of anger. The father of my childhood was back, and I couldn’t be more pleased. “This is quite the event.”
“It really is,” I said happily. “Jacques will be so pleased.”
“You’ll have to congratulate him for me,” my father said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stay up much later. I am an old man, after all, and it’s well past my bedtime.”
I looked at him, concerned. “Are you feeling well, Papa?” I asked. He smiled a reassuring smile.
“Very well, don’t worry, dear. Just a bit tired.” He squeezed my hand. “Have I mentioned recently how proud I am of you?” he asked, and I smiled.
“I think you might have,” I said. “Twenty or thirty times today.”
“Well, it bears repeating,” he said. “You’ve created an incredible life for yourself, Isabel. It makes my heart full to see you so happy.”
Around the room, I caught the eye of each of the men who loved me: Jacques, Étienne, Bernard, Vincent, Raphael, Alexandre, and Isiah. Each of them held my gaze, eyes full of promise for the night to come. I found myself wishing for the evening to end quickly; I didn’t want to wait longer than absolutely necessary to have my men in my bed with me.
“Mine too, Papa,” I said. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to be any happier.”
My father slipped quietly away as around the room, seven incredible men slowly made their way toward me, and I knew that I truly was the luckiest woman in the world.
THE END