I hadn’t found the chance to tell him, and he hadn’t found the time to inquire, and the moment seemed right. I began from the beginning. From the moment we started walking until the last second of our dance. His eyes seemed far away, looking over the same space and time Marzio had. Another gust of wind and, unconsciously, his arms tightened around me.
Brando had a quiet intelligence about him, but even more, he could understand the extra sense that I seemed to have inherited. Too much empathy, if you asked me. It was probably a defect in my genetic makeup. But what he said next brought things into perspective.
“The connection we have—the warning—it’s not just for me.”
His comment caught me off guard. “Of course it is.”
“You knew that he was going to die. You were afraid that if you told me what happened here, you would somehow make it a memory and not feel like current time.”
Did I? The thought never occurred to me. I just felt protective over our time. Releasing it had felt like breaking it—if I had, Marzio would have been lost, not able to find her again. He had held her in his arms. I wanted him to have her forever. I wanted the memory to live again—
“I—” I licked my lips, and then attempted to swallow the hard lump of emotions down. “No, it’s different.” I looked away from him and he looked at me. His eyes could be felt through skin. “I never explained in detail why I was afraid of Jane Jones, did I?”
“No.”
“I knew, Brando. I knew she was a possibility for you. What could be. I felt it. Whatever threatens our connection, I can feel. But I don’t always understand it right away, unless you’re in harm’s direct pathway. It’s like comparing a foreshadowing whisper to a clear shout—the clear shout is such a…tension between my blood and yours. I’ve never experienced it with anyone but you. But both voices live in a place so far down that they echo in mind, in heart, in blood and bone.
“I—I feel things sometimes that I can’t understand. Other times I do. There are times I meet women who look at me like men do, when I dance in the secret clubs, like a fantasy. I’m a reminder of something they once loved but gave up.She is what I could have been.And not a word had been shared between us. Other times, it’s like what happened here.”
Rising from his arms, I came to stand in the same spot where Marzio and I had our dance. I kicked my slippers off. Closing my eyes, I opened my arms to him, like I had. The grass beneath my feet was chilled, even through my black stockings. The air billowed, mirroring the same cold temperature, freezing the tears to my cheeks.
Mimicking our same movements, I danced like we had. I was lost—my feet were warm, the tears on my cheeks a pleasant welcome, the perfume of lemons circling us. His romantic voice sang in my ear and his heart beat against mine.
“Stop it.”
Blinking, my eyes focused on Brando. He had taken me by the arms, his eyes lowered, his face pale.
“Stop it, I said.”
“What was I doing?” My voice was as tender as the breeze.
“Dancing with a fucking ghost.” He yanked me to his chest, holding me so tight that all I could do was melt into him. He began to move me, as though he wanted to take Marzio’s place. A warm body, a physical presence instead of what had been.
“That’s all he wanted,” I said, looking up at Brando. “A dance, to find her again. He loved your grandmother more than life itself.”
“He found her, baby. If he loved her as much as I love you, he found her. Let go. Let go of it.”
“Let go,” I repeated, a whisper. “I need to let go of a lot.”
“You’re going to resent me.”
The look on his face almost made me crumble in his arms. But, was I?
“If I did?”
He stopped moving. An eeriewheeeeeecirculated around us, borne on the wind. I shivered, and goosebumps rippled my flesh.
“I’m too selfish to let you go. I’ll live with your resentment, but I refuse to live without you.”
“No.” I shook my head, resting my hand against his cheek. “No, I love you too much—you never led me on, though you’ve never said the word no.” He was too superstitious for that. He was of the mind that if he said no, fate might want to show him who was in charge. “But it will always be something I lost, a hole that will never be filled. A missed chance at something wonderful created from the both of us. In the darkness, whenwhat could befinds me, I will always reply,such a sin to waste such a miracle.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Brando
There were things to say, but first, I had something to give her. I waited out on the terrace while she changed into her dance gear.
Healing quicker than the doctor had foreseen, Scarlett was released to dance again, and come December, she would be Juliet inRomeo and Juliet. Though she had kept a constant rehabilitation schedule after her surgery, her pace came close to madness after being freed from any restrictions. I forgot how grueling it was, how even on our honeymoon, she had practiced, even if it was only for an hour or two.
