I grinned. “Chicken potpie.”
“Oh.” Her eyelashes were clumped, and she blinked up at me. “Did Eunice cook?”
“Yeah.”
She started to cry even harder. “You smell so good!” she inhaled me on a breath. “Look at me! I’m a mess!”
“I see you,” I said. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She looked down, wiping at her eyes. Her foot moved back and forth, creating a line between us. I moved in even closer, crossing it.
“Still?” she whispered.
I lifted her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Still,” I whispered, leaning in, kissing her forehead. “Always.”
She nodded and then threw her arms around my neck, kissing me. Once she had enough, she rested her forehead against my chest. “Thank you, for all of this,” she said, her eyes still closed. “I love you more than ever.”
“I know the feeling,” I said. “Now go take your bath. You’ll feel better. I have plans.” I winked.
She laughed, taking another long look at our constellations, before she disappeared behind the bathroom door.
* * *
Whiskey was no substitute for my wife, but they had one thing in common. Both could get me drunk. After making sure the table was set, I poured myself a glass and went back upstairs.
I had run her bath, but I could hear the water running again. She had a thing about her water. She’d wash, drain the tub, rinse it, and then refill it. Clean to a fault.
When I walked in, she was just rising up from below the surface. Eyes closed, hands running through her hair, clean water flowing over her slick skin. Candlelight bathed her in its glow, showing her true colors. She was an angel. The closest to heaven I’d ever get.
Her eyes opened when she heard me, so green and fierce in this light. Her wine glass sat on the edge of the tub, almost gone.
Just enough.
The air held the clean scent of her soap, melon from her shampoo, and something a little spicy. Not her usual rose.
We said nothing for a minute or two. I stood in the corner, in the dark shadows, watching her and drinking. Even through the darkness our eyes connected, the iron in her blood pulling at the marrow in my bones.
I didn’t move. I resisted. For now.
Her leg came up in a slow sweep, droplets pattering against the water in the tub like rain. The light made her softer, but at the same time highlighted all of her finest features.
Everything.
She caressed one leg and then another. Then her hand moved with slow deliberation, reaching out for the glass of wine. “Do you want some,mio marito?” She lifted a brow in question.
“You’re sharing.”
“With you.” She grinned. “Always.”
I set the crystal glass on the counter, each bevel in its design catching the light and reflecting a small rainbow. The whiskey burned amber.
“Feeling better?” I asked.
“Tanto,” she said, drawing out the word and then licking her red-stained lips afterward. “Are you going to keep me waiting? I thought we were sharing?”
I stood over the clawfoot tub, taking my time to roll up my sleeves. She looked up at me, eyes almost narrowed to slits, long, black lashes wet and dark. Her breasts skimmed the surface of the water, nipples hard, though the water was hot. Steam drifted from her exposed knees.
“Tell me who makes the rules, Scarlett.”
