I didn’t want him leaving me, either, but Angelo hadn’t given him any other option. “I won’t be alone. I have my siblings. And even Philippa.”
He scowled. “It’s not the same. When he does shit like this, I want to…” Romeo didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t have to. Everything about his body language told me he’d dearly love to rip his father to shreds. “I never imagined him bursting in here and violating our privacy like that. He hasn’t done that to me since I was a teenager.”
I felt tempted to tell him it was okay, but it wasn’t. Not even a little bit.
Romeo raised my hand and kissed the back of it, then he carefully shifted his legs until they fell over the side of the mattress. I backed up a step to give him some room, watching as he ever so cautiously rose to his feet. Favoring one leg, he stumbled forward, limping. When I tried to help, he waved me away. “I need to do this on my own,farfalla.”
Standing back to let him go by nearly killed me. How on earth could he possibly carry out his father’s wishes when he could barely get around at all?
Surreptitiously, I hung out near our bathroom, keeping an eye on him as he took a long hot shower. He seemed to be moving more fluidly when he trudged out, but his movement remained much more sluggish than normal.
I observed silently as he booked passage on a plane to California, then we ate lunch together. I helped him pack up some belongings—about a week’s worth, which made me want to grab his arm and refuse to release him—and when the time came for him to go, I did my best to keep the sorrow from my face as I kissed him goodbye. Only after I went downstairs and saw his car depart through the tall security gates did I allow myself to cry.
I tossed and turned all that night, unable to rest peacefully without Romeo beside me. Before he’d departed, he’d written down his cell phone number and told me to sneak a burner phone out of their headquarters. I’d done as he said and slipped into the room he’d given me directions to, feeling like some clandestine spy. It might’ve actually been fun had I not felt so much trepidation about Angelo possibly being around. I’d located the burners, dashed back to our quarters, and called him.
“Yes?” It was good to hear his voice, even as impersonal as he’d just made it sound.
“It’s me.”
His tone altered to a much more loving one. “I miss you already,farfalla. How are you holding up?”
“By focusing all my attention on reading more baby books and looking forward to my appointment.”
“The driver will be out front waiting for you at two this afternoon.”
“I’ll be there.” I promised, annoyed when a tear rolled down my cheek.Not now, I told myself.That isn’t something Romeo needs to hear.
“Call me when you’re through, okay? I want to make sure I’m up to date.”
“I will,” I promised again. Then, to lighten the mood I changed my answer. “Or maybe I should say, ‘Yes, husband.’”
“Oh,dio, not that. You’ll make me hard when I need to remain professional.”
I forced a laugh and heard him chuckle in return, but his didn’t sound any more real than mine had. “I love you, Romeo.”
“I love you,farfalla. Call me tomorrow.”
“After my appointment,” I confirmed with him.
“Talk to you soon.” Then, he disconnected.
I slept a little better after that, mostly because I held onto the phone. It might be a poor substitute for my husband, but it felt almost like a talisman, a link to him from his home. Still, it felt like I had only just relaxed into a doze, when someone shook me awake again.
“Signorina…signorina… you must get up.”
“What…” I asked, out of it. “Philippa?”
“There is anemergenza. You must go downstairs.”
“Emergency? What emergency?”
“WithSignoreRomeo. Hurry, hurry!”
Bewildered, I looked for him before I remembered. “But he’s not even here. He’s in California.”
“He has come back for you. That is why you must run.”
I rubbed at my eyes feeling like I had brain fog. “He came back?”
