“Brando Piero,” she said, curt. “Scarlett Rose.”
I lifted a hand in a feeble attempt at a wave, not looking at her. Brando let out a strangled laugh and I pinched him, but it only made him shake harder. I slid down, standing in front of him to block out the sight of my husband at his finest, and put both hands to my cheeks to cool the burn.
My mother came for a beer; after she set it on the table, she started to rummage around in the cabinets next to the sink. It was hard to tell if she was really looking for something or drawing out the torture.
Brando went to slide his hand against my butt cheek and I slapped him. He laughed even harder, even though he didn’t make a sound. I felt it vibrating off of him.
My mother shook her head but said nothing. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was only a few minutes, she pulled two taper candles out and two crystal holders, putting them together and then setting them on the table. She took our trays—they were still on the counter—and started to prepare them, adding more to Brando’s.
In less than five minutes, she had set the entire table, two fresh beers included. The candles made waves along the wall, stretching our shadows, and caused the crystal holders to shimmer with rainbow colors.
“There is nothing wrong with a little romance.” She gave Brando a pointed look. “It goes a long way—and hopefully, not in my kitchen.”
I groaned, and Brando trembled with laughter. To give him credit, he kept the smile off his face. Then she took the beer she had come for, about to leave us to it. Before she did, she stopped at the door.
She spoke to me in Slovenian, and my mouth fell open.
“Tell me what she said,” Brando said after she had gone, holding out my seat for me.
Were we really going to eat after all of that? And before we…? I sighed. Yes, we were. I was starting to get irritable. Some people got hangry. I got Brangry when he denied me. It had happened twice in one day. If he tried to out me a third time, it was going to get physical.
“Shesaid. ‘Never take a man to bed on an empty stomach, especially one that has been running off steam all day—they last longer.’”
This time his laughter shook the candle flames, making them sway and the waves along the wall undulate.
“That was horrifying!” I said, picking a shrimp to peel. “What I learned about sex came from Violet—”
Brando lifted a brow.
I waved my hand. “You know what I mean! She drew me a picture once. Andyou—you taught me in the real sense. I mean,Matiexplained the basics, but she never got into specifics. It was real—scientific. More along the lines of, ‘this is what happens, but don’t do it.’”
“Ah.” He waved this off. Then he paused, a shrimp between his fingers, a sneaky smile coming to his face. “Are you ready to go home yet?”
“Smooth, Fausti.” I reached out and attempted to wipe a dried smear of blood from his chin. His bottom lip was swollen in one spot, giving him a pout. “Real smooth.”
He caught my hand and then leaned over, placing a long, tender kiss against my lips.
“Close,” I whispered, keeping my eyes shut tight. “So close.”
I thought he saidpersuasione, but I couldn’t be sure. He dug into his plate after that as though he hadn’t eaten in a week.
Chapter Seventeen
Scarlett
Verona in May was in full bloom. With summer on the horizon, wildflowers sprouted up from every green corner, and planters hung along the many balconies overflowed with life and color.
Being that Romeo was marrying into Juliette’s family, and our good friend Eva was Juliette’s cousin, the entire town of Verona seemed to be overtaken by a surge of people from Louisiana—where both Eva and Juliette were from.
The days leading up to the main event were packed and full of toasts, laughter, and tears. Also, the occasional grunt from Romeo.
During one specific toast, Juliette’s cousin by marriage had stood and lifted his glass. “Here’s to hoping that you don’t tradethisone in!”This onebeing Romeo. Apparently, the cousin-in-law was a friend of the Stones. After he made another similar toast, someone must’ve given him wise advice—knock it off.
Romeo was a genial man, for the most part. But once he started to loosen his tie and collar and roll up his sleeves, things went south fast. He was amiable, but on the flip side, he was a Fausti through and through. Romeo’s transformation could be scary. You didn’t expect it from him, not as much as the others.
What was a wedding without some family drama though? On the whole, the entire celebration was wonderful, and I basked in the love.
Romeo and Juliette had been through a lot to get here. They both deserved the love the other had to offer.
