"Oh my God," I shriek, spinning back around. "Use a towel, you perv."
My hands fly up to shield my eyes as Violet giggles beside me.
"It's my bedroom," he says unapologetically, disappearing into the closet.
"That's one sight that'll be burned into my eyes for years," I groan.
"I have the number of a good therapist," Violet offers, grinning.
Despite myself, I laugh. I've been doing that a lot more lately, and I like it. Marcello returns a minute later, in sweats and a shirt, and pulls me into a hug. I feel how tightly he holds me, how long he doesn’t let go. He told me it was fine when we met at Don Edoardo’s, but neither of us was ready to talk then. Not really.
"Is he here too?" he asks quietly after a beat.
I shake my head. "No, we wanted you to see that I'm free to come and go as I please."
The word lingers in the air.
We.
Raffael and I.
I wonder if they catch it. If they realize what it means.
"Are you going to fill us in?" Marcello prompts gently.
"It's still pretty… raw," I admit, suddenly wishing the floor would swallow me. "But I want you to know that I'm safe and loved. Raffael has loved me for a long time, but he could never tell anyone. He saved me… twice."
My throat tightens, and my eyes sting. "I’ll tell you. I promise, just not… today."
Marcello nods, his expression unreadable, but his fists curl tightly at his sides.
"Sophia agreed to be one of my bridesmaids," Violet says quickly, steering us away from my unraveling.
"Good. It'll be in Vegas, I’ll let you know," Marcello says, hugging me again.
I pull out my phone. "Here’s my number, for both of you. I'm not a prisoner…" I laugh awkwardly. "Anymore. So call me anytime. I’d love to have lunch with either—or both—of you."
A soft sound from the bed draws my attention.
"Oh, you have a kitty!" I smile, genuinely delighted.
"It’s Violet’s," Marcello clarifies.
I’m already kneeling. "Can I pet him?"
"He loves pets," Violet nods, and the cat walks toward me like he owns the place.
I reach out slowly, afraid I’ll scare him, but Violet encourages me. "His name is Felix, and he’s more like a dog. You won’t scare him."
Sure enough, Felix presses his head into my hand, purring, and then flops dramatically on his back for a belly rub.
I giggle.
Marcello makes a sound of distaste, but I catch the way he’s watching me. Fascinated, but also… relieved.
"I never knew cats did that. I always thought they were afraid of strangers," I say.
"Not this one. This one likes to shred strangers," Marcello replies with a smirk.
