My wife was sly. Or so she thought.
Commonsense should’ve kicked in. But it hadn’t. Consumed as I was.
Fucking excuses, Fausti.
I shook my head—I had been had.
Scarlett refused to leave the baby alone for a second, much less put her in her room by herself. Not until I came in.
She knew I’d go to her. Sit in her room. Watch over her.
Though I said nothing and did nothing, just sat or stood in the shadows, there was hope that she’d feel my presence. Maybe fall deeply in love with me too. I wondered if she was as afraid of me as I was of her.
“That’s why I married you, woman,” I said to myself, going straight for the nursery. “You know me better than I know myself.”
The little music box tinkled in the background. Scarlett was laying it on thick. An hour passed, evening melting into twilight. As predictable as clockwork, a screeching mewl penetrated the air around me.
Ruby let out awoof!and ran past me into the room, sniffing, checking the area for intruders.
The baby’s arms waved and her legs kicked, throwing a tantrum because she probably wanted her mother’s breasts. She was a little piggy, all right. I could hear her sucking when she was eating. Scarlett would rock her, laughing, muttering about what a healthy appetite she had.
“I’m coming, my love,” Scarlett called out, her voice soft, moving like a drunk down the hallway.
As predicted, she had on a long, flowing dress, a cream close to gold, with a rose pattern. It fell above her ankles, the fabric soft and flowing. Her hair stood around her head, out of control from the nap she had been taking. Before I went out to meet with all of the complaining members of my family, she had still been in pajamas.
“Oh,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “There you—”
Don’t look so surprised, I wanted to say, but didn’t. I hated how tired she looked. She even had a deep line indented on her face from the pillow. I could smell it on her, the warm scent of a woman who had found sweet dreams. She smelled of candied roses.
“Brando!” She went to touch my face, but I moved out of her reach. I didn’t want her to get blood on her hands and then touch my baby. “What happened?”
“Your brothers attacked me. All at once.”
“My brothers?” She scrunched up her nose.
“Yeah. The four stooges.”
“You only have three.”
“Add Mitch. And Tito in the background egging it on.”
“Ah, I see. Still mad at you, huh?”
The wails rose higher. Scarlett slipped past me, leaning over the crib to pick her up, and then sat in the rocking chair. Whispering words of comfort in Slovenian, she pulled down her dress and put the baby to her breast.
The question didn’t deserve an answer. She knew damn well that everyone was mad at me.
“Just give me a minute to feed her. Then I’ll get you some ice.”
“Rest yourself. I’m going to shower.” I had been out in my gym burning off steam when gang mentality took over.
“All right,” she whispered, running a fingertip along the baby’s forehead.
“Scarlett.”
“Yes?”
“Let them see her.”
