I haven't really seen anything in a long time that's inspired me.
Anything.
Anything except for you.
Your big brown eyes beam at me as though I am their everything. I want to be.
Belle cries in your arms like an angry kitten, fisting tight little hands. She has your doe eyes of course- those perfect orbs- those chocolate irises that could get anything they want. So different from a dull, clear, Barbie blue.
The brown is beautiful- like a rich, liquid, mahogany puddle, torched gently by the sun.
Belle Bear cries and valiantly reaches out for me. I'm late for work. But the briefcase slips from my hands and I reach out for her. She's so tiny, and as soon as I catch her for her she stops crying at once.
Belle is pacified in my arms. She cocoons around me comfortably. She has your popping dimple too, but her hair is a softer brown, a smoother texture. It's mine. She rests that little head on my shoulder and latches on, determined not to let go.
Belle is beautiful and demanding just like you.
I look at you uncertainly. You smile.
"I'll send the papers in the evening," you say- and I can't really hear you over Belle's sweet babbles.
A rush at your feet takes your attention- it's a whirlwind. It's our Prince Henry. He's being mischievous as an imp as usual. His eyes are a slanted coffee brown like mine. He's me in miniature but I love Belle more because she's like you.
You love Henry more because he's me, only purer by far.
"Blair," I say as you lift Henry in your slender arms. "Blair- don't."
Henry is quiet now, listening. You stiffen as I plead with you. My voice is dangerously threatening almost- but surely you hear it. That plea. That desperate, undercurrent plea.
"Expect the papers by tonight." You say burlesquely. You smoothly take Belle from me in your other arm. You carry both our children like trophies- which they are. Beautiful, beloved trophies. Gems. Family jewels.
The Bass Crown Jewels.
"What papers?" I ask through grinded teeth. "Just say it then. Say it to my face."
You look at me. The only inspiring thing I knew were your eyes- so trusting, so innocent, so viscous sometimes like a tigress, pondering.
Then the gems came and I found inspiration in our miniatures. Yet nothing hooks me as you do. You know that don't you?
"Divorce papers." You say sweetly, smiling. On cue, Belle starts crying.
She doesn't understand of course but she sees the dark hatred on my face.
Without a word you walk away to your end of the penthouse, taking my crying baby and quiet son with you.
I loved you so dearly that it cost me this dearly.