At least that’s what I keep telling myself over and over and over again. I have to remember that he can also be shallow, petty, demanding, pompous, selfish, cruel, and hateful. But he saves that kind of behavior for others, not for me. He only treats me with what he thinks is the utmost respect. Oh, since he and I separated last summer Whizzy has regarded me with a great deal more deference, thought, and concern than he did when we were married. Hands down, he neglected me and our marriage when we were still married but since our divorce I feel that our relationship and our friendship have become much stronger and more meaningful. It’s just strange that after all the mistakes he and I made, both together and apart, that we would end up with each other again.
Sometimes I’ll be sitting in his penthouse flat, well, he insists that it’s our penthouse flat…anyway, I’ll be sitting in the flat, looking out one of the many surrounding windows and gazing across the London skyline and I will think “If only Whizzy made this happen for us when we were married, moved us out of Ollerton, away from his mum, and in our own place, he and I might still be together, still married”. Right now it feels so very bizarre to be technically and legally divorced from him when we are at this moment living together like a newlywed couple in the throes of nuptial bliss. But we are divorced; and the marriage was annulled as well, so it is as if we were, in principle, never married at all. He did that for me; I don’t know why because I never asked him for more than a divorce, but in return he insisted on giving me enough money and a home in which to live comfortably for the rest of my life. And he made arrangements so we would be granted an annulment.
“Whizzy?” I turn toward him as we lounge side-by-side on the brown leather sofa. He looks up from the book he is reading. “Why did you arrange an annulment for us? I only asked for a divorce.”
He is quiet, thoughtful for a moment before he closes the tome in his hands and reaches over to brush an errant curl from my face. “Well, it was because I knew you were no longer in love with me. I wanted you to have a clean start with the rest of your life.”
“A life with Charlie,” I respond.
“Yes…a life with Charlie,” Whizzy hesitates, “I wanted you to be happy even though I lost you.”
“You didn’t lose me to Charlie. You know that, don’t you?” I ask. “I didn’t know that he was coming back to England at the time. I hope you believe me.” I look down and notice that our hands are clasped.
“I know,” he whispers, “I know. I did not lose you to Charlie Weasley. I lost you to my own selfishness and stupidity.”
“But now you’ve made up for it,” I sigh as he lifts my hand to his lips and reverently kisses its palm. My fingers slip from his face across his chin, and to the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Not quite yet,” he smiles, “But I am working on it.” He leans his head back against the sofa while still maintaining eye contact with me. “How are you feeling, darling?”
“Much better tonight,” I respond as I snug up against him.
“Now that mother is home at Ollerton and doing well I am glad that I shall be available to meet you for your appointment with Paddy tomorrow after you are finished with work,” he tells me as his free hand draws lazy circles on my upper thigh. “I am going because I do not want you to cancel this engagement just because you are feeling better at this moment. He still needs to examine you.” Whizzy raises his hand and runs it across my head gently. “I am anxious to find out why you are having trouble staying in the pink.” His smile is to cheer me; I know. I haven’t been able to morph at all in nearly a week, not even my hair color. That fact is starting to get to me.
“Thank you, Whizzy,” I nuzzle into his neck and catch the heady scent of his cologne. “Thank you for being there for me. I couldn’t have made it through the past few months without you.”
“Dorrie, I owe you my life. The least I can do now is give you the world.” He rubs his cheek against mine, his mouth stopping as I feel his breath at my ear. I lift myself up on my knees and the cushion of the sofa presses down below me as I hoist myself across to straddle his lap. His breathing quickens to a low moan and his blue eyes captivate as he gazes up to me.
“Thank you for loving me so much,” I whisper as I bend forward to place a kiss on his warm lips. “Whizzy,” I stop and softly speak his name, “Worthington.” I kiss him once more…