Part I
Chapter One
Brando
It was so quiet in our refurbished brownstone in Brooklyn, in the Park Slope Historic District, that I could hear the snow swirling outside of our picture window, a million susurrations floating around in the night.
The temperature had hit negative long ago, staying with the theme of a brutal winter. Even the night was affected. Instead of it being black and void of stars, it almost looked blue, as if the air itself had hypothermia. Snow fell at manic speed, swirling, sticking to everything.
Blue and white and silver.
The colors reminded me of another night in the snow—December 11, 1995. Standing outside of her parents’ dance studio along Front Street in Natchitoches, Louisiana, where snow is not a common occurrence. I should’ve known then.
My entire life was about to change.
That first real connection between us was frozen in time as I watched her dance in that picture window. The weather had encased the moment in ice, keeping the warmth for us only. Head down, eyes up, heart gone. Lost to the tiny dancer twirling in her soft-blue, frilly tutu—she hadn’t remembered that I existed outside of that window, not until she saved my life.
She was only fifteen. She’s saved my life numerous times since that night.
It had been two years since we left Italy and all that mess behind, after she’d saved my life, moving forward to New York. Scarlett had taken a position with the American Ballet Theatre as Principal Dancer, which meant numerous performances that led to standing ovations. Countless offers to choreograph and dance and act, on stage and on the television. Some taken. Some not.
Potential. She had lived up to it—and then some. Yet she still levitated higher and higher. Heaven was no hill for a climber like her.
As far asus, we were deeper than ever. Two years was not a long time, considering, but in terms of growth, we had it without pause. The freedom of the last two years had taken us there. We were not a couple that did well with separation.
Grinning, I pulled her closer. She sighed and pressed deeper into my front. The midnight perfume of her and deep sleep was sweet, making me inhale more than once, her scent sweeping through my lungs.
I refused to think too long on the freedom we had found. Fate might hear. I’m Italian. I’m superstitious to a fault. I give thanks, but I don’t linger.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
I had five fucking words on my mind that refused to allow me to fall asleep. They were insistent. Demanding. Stuck in my fucking throat. I cleared it, attempting to unstick what felt trapped. Nothing budged. Looking down at her, my heart melted, even with all of this cold. The beast that she controlled rattled his chains and punched me in the gut, starving for her love.
Say the fucking words, Fausti. Just say them.
I couldn’t.
They were simple enough. A child could get them out. But in terms of weight, they were heavy enough to stick to the bone, but light enough to carry around forever. Not even a burden.
Still.
Tell that to the fool in this scenario and see if he'll listen. There was no reason for my behavior, except for the fact that I sometimes wondered if Luca made me part stone. I’d never been rejected or had my heart broken. Not in a way that had counted.
The only woman who had ever broken my heart—still does—slept next to me.
My best friend, my wife, my lover, my life.
I couldn't even whisper the five words to her in the still of the night.
Yeah, sometimes I was able to blurt out other words.You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I have too much fucking pride.Other times, in the stillness, I could whisper things to her while she slept, all in hopes that the whispered secrets made it to her heart, where she’d collect them in her dreams.
Words can come out all wrong though. Can make a man feel like a stupid-ass fool as soon as they’re out.When I thought too hard or for too long in those unguarded moments, I choked.
You overthink,she had told me,and those feelings are sticky.
If she only knew how right she was. I pissed my own self off.
She deserved to hear them. She deserved the entire world and beyond. Being married to me could lead to sainthood.
