The silence in the house became haunting, while outside the wind howled. I pressed play on the stereo system to fill the emptiness, not sure what to expect.
I grinned. “In The Still Of The Night,” by The Five Satins.
A pen had been left on the table, probably the one she had used to write in the book earlier, and I tapped it against the wood.
“Is this what you’re looking for,mio angelo?”
Scarlett stood in front of me, a smile on her face, holding up the book,Our Beautiful Years.I gave her a nod.
“Why didn’t you just ask?”
“I didn’t want to wake you up,” I said.
Her brows lifted, and she gave me a knowing smirk.Never stopped you before,it seemed to say. Then her face lost all playful expression.
“You have something on your mind,” she whispered. Not a question. A statement. The woman knew me inside out. There was never a chance to hide from her, not even in the middle of the night.
“Yeah.” My voice seemed as haunted as the silence. “I need our book.”
She came forward, her hair a wavy mess, floating around her shoulders and down her thin back. She had on one of my thermal shirts and a pair of thick wool socks. Nothing else.
Her perfect legs were on display, so smooth and toned, and chilled from the walk down. The shirt was oversized for her but still clung in all the right places. It outlined the shape of her breasts, the hardness of her nipples, and highlighted her small waist and the curve of her hips.
Just like that. I needed her again.
She set the book down, placed her palm against the cover, and stared down at me. The small lights around us reflected in her eyes, brightening them.
“Spostate la mano.” My tongue moved slowly with the words, my eyes steady on hers.Move your hand.
“Solo se mi porti a letto dopo,”she replied, her face serious.
My mouth twitched at her response.Only if you take me to bed after.
“Are you making demands now, Ballerina Girl?”
“Yes,” she said, leaning in closer, her lips brushing mine. “I can’t sleep without you.”
“Sleep.”
“And other stuff.”
I grinned and she laughed. Then she lifted her hand. She turned to go, but I stopped her. “Restare.”
I couldn’t speak the words out loud, but they were meant for her. Putting them down in our book meant that they lived on forever. I opened my arms to her and she came to me, her body fitting perfectly next to mine.
“Keep watching,” I said, opening the book. I found an empty page, after the one she had last written on, and bent forward with her, putting pen to paper. “Five words.”
You were right all along.
The words themselves didn’t make me go weak. She did, after she had read them. I felt hollow, like I had hit a dip in the road, my heart weightless, my soul jarred. Her face softened and her eyes bubbled with tears.
“You really think so?” she whispered.
“I know so.”
She nodded, not bothering to wipe the tear that had drifted down her cheek. I did. Then I spread it on my lips to taste her.
“So these were the words that kept you up all night?You were right all along.”
