“You have my heart and soul.” Lifting my trembling left hand, I balled my fist and he put his up. Our rings clanked. “You have all of me—always have.”
I turned my head to the sky, feeling sharp pellets tingle against my skin. Brando’s hair collected rain, rushing between my breasts like a river, until the drops became fatter, softer. The wind picked up, a sharp whistling, and the sea responded with rocking waves.
“You are so beautiful, Scarlett.”
I looked down, rain collecting on my lashes, finding him staring at me. Our eyes met and held again, collecting whatever it was between us in that moment.
I kissed him gently on the forehead in silent gratitude, bringing his head back to my chest.
Even after Brando was able to move, I still couldn’t find the strength. He carried me inside thebure, bare feet quiet against the wooden floors, leaving a trail of water from the storm and sand from the beach. I shivered, tucking my head underneath his chin, trying to be as close as physically possible. The storm brought the temperature down, and the air inside was cool against the wetness that clung to skin.
“Let’s get you undressed, baby.” Brando set me down, going for his bag.
“Easy,” I said.
I peeled the thin dress off my shoulders, unfastened my bra—nothing else to remove—and hung them over the bird perch to dry. Brando handed me one of his Henleys and a pair of underwear, the entire time watching me. His shirt was soft and warm and smelled of him. It hung loosely on my frame, falling around my knees.
“Your earrings,” he said. “I’ll put them up.” He held up the box that Uncle Tito had given him before the concert.
I touched them. They swung, catching the light and shimmering with the movement. “No, I think I’ll keep them on.”
He watched me brush my teeth while he removed his sodden clothes, swapping them out for a pair of sweatpants. This should’ve struck me as odd. He hardly ever wore clothes to bed, but I was too tired to prod. He had loved the curiosity out of me for a while.
For the first time, I was able to slide under the covers, not hindered by heat, and I snuggled up closer to Brando’s bare chest. He smelled of rainwater, the faintest hints of beer, and the smoky tinge from fires.
Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, he kissed my lips. “Your eyes shine when you’re content.”
“It’s called afterglow.” I grinned.
He grinned. “No, it happens other times too.”
“When I look at you?”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “When you look at me.”
“And when I’m jealous?”
His eyebrows shot up, almost comically. “You turn into a creature not of this world. An avenging angel about to cause destruction.”
“No,” I said, yawning. “A creature about to destroy all those women who want her husband.”
He made a dismissive noise and kissed me again on the forehead before he kissed the palms of my hands. “Get some sleep, Ballerina Girl. It takes a lot of energy to run a crew of rowdy sailors off.”
I laughed, my voice raspy, into the pillow. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Yeah.” He laughed too. “You created a great sandstorm, and once it settled, the beach was empty. You quieted the crickets.”
“I wonder—” my voice floated “—if they’ll tell stories about me at their next bonfire?” Then I drifted, only to whisper somewhere between the worlds of awake and sleep, “Je t'aime, Brando.Ti amo così tanto, mio marito.”
Before his response came, I faded. Later, my eyes blinked open to the ravaging sounds of the storm. It had picked up. The sea no longer shushed but boiled. The faint outlines of coconut and palm trees bowed to sand and ocean, their fronds flailing madly, begging for mercy.
“Are we safe?” I mumbled.
“Yeah, it’ll pass soon.” Brando’s voice was a whisper, but awake.
I realized he stroked my head. I had moved closer to him in sleep, my head resting on his arm.Could he swim us out of here, if he had to?I wondered. I wasn’t even sure if I had said it, or if it was a meandering thought.
“This is nothing,” he said. “You don’t need to worry. You’re safe.”
