Dance with the Devil: Chapter 21

Four Weeks Later

June 2nd

Today is our wedding day. Francesca is officially mine, and we’re going to be parents. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I’ve worked for, every obsessive thought and second guess, every quick remark and brush of my fingers against her face… the small moments got us here, and I can’t think about how immoral it was at times.

I don’t care.

Nothing else that could ever compare to the feeling of having everything I want right in front of me.

There’s a profound sense of completeness inside of me, of rightness. All the pain, all the darkness from my past, it’s all been worth it for this. For her.

I can’t help but reflect on everything that led us here. All the obstacles, the boundaries I crossed, the lengths I went to keep her close. I used to think I was driven by obsession, by a need to possess, but today I see it differently. It wasn’t just about owning her; it was about finding something real, something that filled the void left by years of loss and abuse. I’ve never felt this kind of peace before.

Francesca and our baby are my salvation, my redemption. Every part of my life before this feels distant, almost like a dream I can barely remember. I was a man shaped by suffering and loss, carved by pain into a machine who worked too much and never cared to dig deeper. Never cared to fix myself, despite making it my job to fix others.

But now I am something new.

I’d do it all again if it meant having this life with her. I’d endure a thousand dark nights just to see her smile like she did last night at our rehearsal dinner⁠—

“Hey, are you busy?”

I spin around and lock my phone, eyes widening when Francesca walks into my suite.

“Frankie, what the fuck are you doing here? It’s bad luck to see you before the⁠—”

“Oh my god, do you really believe in superstitions?” she asks, and it’s then that I see the tears tracking down her cheeks.

Her balled fists.

Her anxious energy.

Fuck.

I jump up and rush over to her as my heart pounds in my chest. “What’s wrong?”

This is it.

This is the part where she tells me she’s leaving me, that it was all a mistake, that she can’t marry me or have a future with me⁠—

“I’m so hungry, but I don’t know what to eat. My corset is too tight, and my boobs are spilling out. I accidentally ordered decaf coffee so I’m tired, and the trees outside are so big, I can’t help but think of how long they’ve been alive, and how lonely they must get even though we’re in the middle of the city, you know? They’ll never get to see what it’s like in the forest.”

Then she bursts into tears.

I can’t help but smile, trying to hide my laugh as I envelope her inside of my arms, cradling her closely.

I fucking love this about her pregnancy symptoms. She’s emotional, and she needs me for the smallest things, like finding a pen or trying to remember how to make the cornbread she loves. Pregnancy brain is real, and everything over the last three months has made her overly dependant on me.

“How about you go finish getting ready,” I say, smoothing down her wet hair. She’s in a white bath robe, and I know Ari and her mom are probably freaking out that she’s with me. “I’ll hunt down some of that omelet you loved the last time we were here and I’m sure your mom can help you with the corset. As for the trees…” I trail off, pressing my lips together so I don’t laugh.

She suddenly pulls away, and her brows knit together as she studies my face. “You think I’m being ridiculous, don’t you?” Her voice is small and unsure, and it makes my chest ache that I could ever second guess us.

That I could ever second guess her.

“I know I’m being completely irrational. I just feel so ugly, and bloated, and I’m not showing yet so I can’t even give the excuse that I’m pregnant. And you’re so fucking hot. People are going to wonder⁠—”

“Can I show you something?” I ask carefully, walking back over to my desk and grabbing my phone.

She crosses her arms and makes a sniffling sound. “Okay…”

Unlocking it, I hand it to her—the screen open to my notes app. She takes it and her eyes flick across the screen as she reads the words I’d just written before she barged into my suite. I watch her expression soften as she reads, as she scrolls… and then she taps and enters the entire index of notes I’ve been taking for over two years.

“How far back do these go?” she asks, looking up at me with wide, tearful eyes.

I shrug. “I think all the way back to the day applied for the job.”

She lets out a tiny gasp, and then she goes back to the notes—opening a few random ones and skimming the entries.

“This one’s from a year ago,” she whispers, smiling. “It’s strange, how I’ve come to need this. I used to think that loneliness was something I could handle, something I could endure. But now, with her presence, I realize just how empty those years were. The office, the work—everything was so hollow before she arrived. Now, every minute with her, even if it’s filled with her mild exasperation or frustration, is a gift. It means she’s thinking about me, focused on me. I make sure there’s always something for her to do, something that requires her attention, something that keeps her coming back to me. It’s a game, I suppose, but it’s a necessary one.”

She laughs. “You’re such an asshole. You kept me busy for your own personal gain.”

I smile, and she continues reading out loud.

“When she’s busy with work, she’s not just thinking about tasks or deadlines—she’s thinking about how to make me happy, how to meet my expectations. And in doing so, she’s always in my orbit. There’s a loneliness I felt before she came into my life that I can’t even begin to describe. It was a constant, gnawing void that no amount of work or distraction could fill. I used to think I could find solace in my career, in achieving professional success, but it was all empty without someone to share it with. Now, having her here, having her in my daily life, it’s like a lifeline. Every sigh she gives, every question she asks, every bit of annoyance—it’s a reminder that she’s there.”

Francesca swallows, taking a step closer to me.

“I know some might see it as manipulative, keeping her working late, giving her tasks that seem endless. But for me, it’s a necessity. I need her. Because the truth is, without her, I’m lost. And I refuse to go back to that dark, lonely place.”

She locks my phone and sets it down, and then she comes to stand in front of me. I never thought I’d let her read any of those entries—especially not the ones from the beginning, when I would wax poetic about the smallest interactions. Even now, when I read them back, they sound… sad. She takes my hands, but I don’t know what I say. In order to make her feel better, I laid myself completely bare before her, and it’s a vulnerable feeling that I’m not entirely used to.

“You should use those lines for your vows,” she murmurs, her hand coming to my face.

“Which ones?” I ask, hardly breathing as her other hand trails down my t-shirt.

“The truth is, without her, I’m lost.”

“Liked that, did you?” I ask, capturing her hand before it drifts too far south. I have plans for her tonight—our wedding night—and I’m not going to let her spoil it with a pre-wedding quickie.

“I loved it. You… you’re…”

Her eyes are dark as she stands on her tip toes. And then she presses her lips to mine—softly, gently, a caress of emotion.

“I love you,” she whispers. “And I need you, too.”

Pulling her close, I let my eyes drift closed as I rest my chin on the top of her head. We stay there for several minutes, swaying and holding each other. After a minute, I pull away and point to the door.

“Now get out of here. It’s bad luck.”

She smirks. “See you soon?”

I grin. “See you soon, baby girl.”

Once she closes the door, I walk back over to my phone and pull the note from today up again. My fingers fly over the keys as I write.

Tonight, when dance under the soft glow of the chandeliers at the hotel that started it all, I can’t help but think of how she’s dancing with the Devil. Isn’t that what she used to call me?

We’ve found our way through the shadows, carving out a place where love and light flourish despite everything we’ve endured. We’ve created something beautiful, something lasting. Our child, our future—it’s all within reach now. I know some would say it’s wrong, that my methods were flawed, but today, none of that matters. We’re a family, and nothing can change that. Nothing will ever tear us apart.

This is the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. I’ve gotten everything I ever wanted, and these notes will most likely stop now. I’ve found my peace, my purpose. Francesca and our child are my world, and I will protect them, cherish them, and love them with everything I have.

We’re finally home.

Forever and always.