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April's growling stomach woke Jasmine from a deep, contented sleep. She was lying on her side facing the French doors that stood on the opposite end of her room, and opened out onto a large balcony that had it's own set of steps leading down to the side yard. She smiled as she felt April spooned against her back, her arms draped over Jasmine's waist. She felt good, happy, and knew that she and April were finally on their way to having a future together. A very long one, she hoped.

Looking around her room, she studied the big, brown leather couch that faced the fireplace that was built into the wall facing the bed. Her room was done in rich, dark tones, browns and hunter greens that were more suited for a man's room. Actually, the room had been her father's. He'd slept here whenever he and her mother were having a row, and had decorated the room himself. Staying here always made her feel closer to him. She always felt saddened at the memory of that day in the kitchen, when her world exploded apart. It had taken a very long time before she had finally understood what had driven him to destruction that day. Love, passion, could be a powerful, all consuming thing; a creature that drove all rational thought away. She snuggled against April and knew that she finally understood what that felt like, being so involved with someone that the rightness of your world depended on them. It was a scary feeling sometimes, but could also fill a person's heart with so much happiness; you felt like you were floating through air, your feet never touching the ground.

...

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