He exploded with laughter again.
The sound washed over me, and I became as quiet as the apartment to absorb the beauty in it.
I was never a guileless person. I wasn't sheltered against the beauties of the world. I had traveled all over, had been on numerous photo shoots with my mother, and met people that seemed to defy Mother Nature with their looks. But I had never set eyes on someone as beautiful, as fine, as Brando Fausti.
I wasn't biased either.
I had seen supermodels trip over their feet to get to him and over their words while talking to him. The girls at home, some of them too young to truly understand, would step aside just to watch him pass. Stunned beyond words to see him, but aware of the danger that lived beyond the surface of his skin. It was the classic scenario of hunter enchanting the innocent creature.
When Luca Fausti and Maggie Beautiful came together to create him, there was no doubt that every odd angle had aligned, leaving a few sharp edges to give him that unwavering element of don'teffwith me.
I was no ugly duckling. There were things about me that were attractive. My hair. My legs—they were built for dancing. My eyes. I had been told that my eyes were exotic. Not just by Brando. Still, the fact remained the same. Hewasbiased. I knew it.
“Why am I yours, Brando?”
His laughter tapered. The line went quiet a moment later.
“You're being serious.”
“Yes.”
It took him a while to answer. “I have the answer. I always have. So don’t even go there. You’re assuming that I have to think hard to come up with an answer. I'm fuc—upset that you would even have to ask.There was never anyone else. Why am I yours?” He returned the question.
“Because there was never anyone else. Never will be.”
“That makes me one lucky bastard.”
“I suppose.”
“It’s me. I should know.”
I pulled the covers back up, suddenly feeling tired. Though physical therapy and swimming was pleasant enough, doingwhateversounded pretty amazing too. “Tell me about your day,mio marito,” I said, yawning. “I think I’ll sleep a while longer. Before I go for a swim. Stay on the phone with me?”
He cleared his throat. “You want to hear about my day.”
“Yes. Please. Tell me about life under the sea.”
He began to talk about his day, all of the routine things he went through, all of the things that were not so routine. To the sound of his voice, I drifted off knowing he’d be with me in two days.
Chapter Five
Scarlett
A week after Brando left for offshore, I returned to the town of Pienza, enamored by the feel of it. It was as romantic as can be, with the four streets of love.
Via del Bacio,Via dell’Amore,Via della Fortuna, andVia del Buia.
Pienza sat atop a hillside, where city almost felt like it touched sky. Miles and miles of rolling hillocks spread out in hunter green waves, interspersed with Tuscan farmhouses, rising Italian cypresses, and vineyards bursting with grapes ready to be transformed into Chianti.
Her narrow streets were lined with terracotta pots overflowing with vibrant flowers. Even in the heat, the antique stone seemed to keep the city cool, and Italian Renaissance architecture could be found on every corner.
After our visit, I found myself dreaming of the sky there often. Nothing too symbolic, but I was always staring up, and I would gaze so long and so hard that eventually my eyes would tire and start to water. The sun would beat down on me so relentlessly that my skin would start to burn.
In this dream, I couldn’t escape the reality that I waited for something. I always woke up with a smile, as though whatever I had been waiting for came to me during the moment between unconsciousness and consciousness. Whatever it was that I waited for hadn’t come full circle yet.
I knew a part of it was spurred along by longing. Ever since my trip home, I felt like a puppet without a master. I longed for home, in a physical way, almost visceral in need. Brando was my home, but another part of me wanted feet on solid ground. I wanted, more than anything, to give him that—a place to call ours until we could make it back to our home on Snow.
So, I woke up before the sun rose, dressed in a simple white dress, and pulled my hair back in a low bun, and then covered it with a headscarf,à laSophia Loren. Not able to find a bus to take me on such short notice, I hired a driver, and he dropped me off.
