My phone buzzes on the nightstand. FaceTime from Livia. I ease out of bed carefully so I don’t wake Jess, grab a shirt, and step into the hall to answer.
Ben’s face fills the screen. She’s got flour on her nose and powdered sugar in her hair.
“Daddy! Nonno let me makesfogliatelle!”
“Did he now?” I can’t help smiling. “How many did you eat?”
She holds up three fingers. Then four. Then shrugs like honesty is negotiable when it comes to pastries.
“Good girl,” I tell her. “Save some for me.”
“Frederick says you have to come get them yourself.”
Of course he does. That snail is a tyrant.
Livia appears behind her. “We’ll have her home Friday morning. Nine sharp.”
Tomorrow.
“Appreciate it.”
“And Marco?” Her voice drops. That tone that means she’s about to say something I won’t like. “Be careful with her when you’re out there.”
Like I need the reminder.
“Always,” I reply.
The call ends.
When I return to the bedroom, Jess is awake, watching me from the pillows.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Ben’s making pastries. Nonno’s spoiling her rotten.”
She smiles. “Good. She deserves it.”
We spend the morning like that. Easy. Domestic. I sent a text last night, informing all house staff to arrive later this morning. So we have the place to ourselves for a while longer.
After a quick fuck and shared shower, we dress, and she helps me stage the gear in the mudroom while I walk her through each piece.
Permits. Check.
Laminated rules. Check.
Shotgun cased and locked with the chamber flag visible through the small window. Check.
Ammo box locked separately. Check.
“You really are intense about this,” she observes, watching me check the ammo box for the third time.
“It’s important.”
“I know.” She touches my arm. “I get it.”
I look at the gear. “I still remember that first trip with my dad. The way he showed me how to respect the woods. How to move through the treeswithout fear. That’s what I want for Ben. Not fear. Respect.”
“Totally get it,” she says.
