“My little bluebird, I can’t wait to see you again.”
My pussy throbs with anticipation and my heart is beating out of my chest. It must be from my fiancé, and he wants to see me. But who is he?
He must have seen me, but where? It had to be in Rome, because I don’t get out much. There were so many people in the museum, I’d never be able to single out just one man. I hope it’s not that creepy dude with the neck tattoo. Surely Papa wouldn’t have anything to do with him. . .
Or has he sunk that low?
In my excitement, I rip open the second box. Mama gets jewelry in boxes shaped like this.
I peek inside the felt lined box and find a jeweled necklace with blue gems, must be sapphires, and more diamonds than I can count.
I lift the necklace. It’s heavier than expected. Draping it over my hand, I get a closer look at the sparkling diamonds circling each sapphire in a unique design. I’ve never seen anything so exquisite and wonder if he designed it himself, just for me. If so, it could be the only piece in existence. Like the relics we walk around daily.
Now I’m being ridiculous. A man who hides from his future wife is not a romantic. If anything, he’s looking for a piece of arm candy he can pose, dress and decorate with expensive jewels to impress his friends and family.
He’s egotistical and a showoff.
And yet what I’m thinking doesn’t stop me from placing the necklace around my neck. It’s gorgeous but I’m all thumbs as I fiddle with the lock that prevents the clasp from coming undone. This type of closure does not go on a necklace made with fake stones.
Leaping out of bed, I run to the dresser to check my reflection in the mirror. The necklace is stunning, and the sapphires bring out the blue in my eyes. What did he call me?
Bluebird. He must know my eyes are blue and wants the necklace to compliment their color.
I squeal and run downstairs to Mama.
“Mother of God, that is beautiful,” she gasps.
“You know who sent it, don’t you?”
“Your father can’t tell anyone. There were a few men that wanted to marry you, but they didn’t seem to be the type to keep their mouths shut. That’s all I know,” she adds hastily, knowing I’ll have a million questions.
Without taking her eyes off the necklace, she says, “You’ll make a stunning bride. I have collections of pearls your father gave me, but he lacks the imagination to pick something so colorful and expensive.”
“Right, I forgot about how much this must have cost. It’s safe to assume the man in question has money.”
“That I’m sure of.” She raises her hand to stop me from asking her to guess its value, but I’ll look it up anyway.
Why would my fiancé send me something so expensive before the wedding? He doesn’t know me or my taste. He hasn’t bothered to contact me for weeks, then he sends me extravagant items.
I wonder if he’s passive aggressive.
I have no way of sending him a thank you. I don’t know his name.
Suddenly it hits me, I can text him, maybe even call him because he texted my phone.OMG, I have his number!
“I gotta go,” I say, dashing upstairs to my ivory tower as Laura calls it.
“Who is this?”I text back.
“Did you like your gift? Merry Christmas.”
“Thank you but I would like to know where to send a thank you card.”
“Nice try, little bluebird. We’ll meet soon.”
“Who are you?”
Three dots appear and then nothing. He’s gone.