If a seat were underneath me, I would’ve fallen off. As it was, my legs felt like they were made of jelly.
Gemma’s mamma met up with us then, the little boy no longer itching at his pants. She took Gemma from Brando, but the look on her face matched her daughter’s. It took time for the women on the farm to get used to Rocco playing with thebambinos, but this was a true shock.
Tell me about it, I felt like saying, but kept quiet.
Gemma and company took off, headed toward the main villa. I sighed. “She’s cute, isn’t she?”
He glanced sideways at me from underneath the glasses. “Yeah, she is,” he said, his voice almost quiet. “I’m losing my edge.”
“I promise not to tell a soul.” I made the sign of the cross and then touched my lips.
Brando took the fingers and touched them against his own.
We became quiet as we strolled, lost to our own thoughts. Brando was unreadable, and that was fine by me. All I could think of was how much I wanted a baby that looked just like him.
“You’re happy, baby.”
It took a moment to realize he had spoken to me. The statement/question came out of nowhere. When it made it to my mind, I went to stop but he pulled me along. “Do I look unhappy? Did I—”
“No, it’s nothing you’ve done. Or not.”
“What makes you ask then?”
I looked over at him, the sun shimmering on his smooth skin, only a slight scar on his eyebrow slicing through the darkness of hair marring his face. It made him look fiercer. He was giving me nothing in terms of his mood.
“Your happiness makes me more confident in life. I can usually feel your moods. Lately, you’ve been more content. You’re not one to complain, unless I do something you think is foolish. I want to make sure you’re not hiding something from me.”
“My happiness makes you more confident?”
“Out of all that, that’s the highlight.”
“Yes.”
The property was bare here, some rolling hills, but mostly grass and the beating of the relentless, blazing sun. There were no groves, per se, but a few trees that were clumped together in the distance. Other than that, it was one tree by its lonesome scattered here and there. Sheep were out in the distance, white specks like small cotton balls dotting the hillside. Hundreds ofbaaaasseemed to echo for miles and miles.
“You answered my question with another question,” he said. “I don’t like it. I know what it means.”
I had a history of answering serious questions with more questions. Brando called it my attempt-to-confuse maneuver, but it never confused him, and he never lost track. So I doubted that it was a successful maneuver, just more ingrained. “I’m fine. Really. I actually like it here.”
“That’s all. You like it here.”
“Yep,” I said, swinging our hands. “I do. Apart from Theresa’s scary shenanigans, it would be ideal.”
“A world without Theresa would be ideal.” Brando shivered and then made the sign of the cross. “I think the beard makes her do things. Maybe it talks to her. Is it unchecked hormones? A woman thing? Or an Italian thing?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, trying not to laugh at him. He was being serious. “Women have hair too, Brando. Sometimes in placeswehate.”
He stopped and peered at me more closely in the sun. “You don’t have a beard. Or hair in the wrong places.”
This time I did laugh. His expression turned soft and wondering, almost like Gemma when she discovered something new. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a dream come true?” Even with the glasses on, I had to shield my eyes when I looked up at him. The glare was as fierce as fire.
The look, which at first was benign, simmered into something hotter. “Not lately,” he whispered, coming in close, nuzzling against my neck. “You’re starting to sweat. I like when you get salty.” His tongue flicked out, tasting me.
“Has anyone also told you that you’re a sex fiend? And kinky?”
“Yeah, this morning. That might be an Italian thing.” He started biting, making his way down my neck. “I’ve never met a position that I didn’t like. You drive me insane.”
No complaints here. Brando didn’t entertain languid, and if he became bored on the farm, he used me as his own personal source of entertainment. “Brando,” I said, breathless. “You’d have to tag me with a tranquilizer dart to get me to have sex out here. Theresa is probably lurking behind a blade of grass.”
