#Chapter Fifty-Seven
"28 and you still look so young, Kitty," Barry said to her. She removed her white cardigan and placed it on the couch. "Everyone tells me how lucky I am to have a wife like you."
"Of course," she said.
"I wish we could have children," he said. "They'd all be little versions of you, adorable and pure."
"I wish we could too," she said as they walked up the stairway to the dining room. She sat on one end of the long table while Barry sat on the other far end. About fifteen chairs on either side separated them. "What's for dinner?"
"I had some pigeons flown in," he said. "You'll enjoy them."
"I prefer chicken."
"I know that but we're having pigeons today."
She sat straight up in her seat and inhaled sharply. "I can't wait!"
"Kitty," he said as the servants came out to place the food on their table. "I want you to know that I forgive what you did ten years ago. I don't remember it anymore."
"Yet you say this to me all the time."
"You sound mad."
"I'm not," she said. "I'm drowning in joy."
"Great. Now, let's have the pigeons." She used her fingers and peeled the meat from the bone. "Kitty, where are your manners?"
"Oh," she said, wiping her fingers and picking a fork up. "Sorry."
"So, as I was saying for the past month," Barry told her. "We are going to have a dance soon and I want every man to see you by my side, happy and joyful and perfect, just the way you are. Be yourself, and when you do what I say, you will shine - "
But she was no longer listening.