I was one lucky bastard. I married the woman of my dreams, and then some. My wife was my own Eve in the Garden of Eden.
After Bob brought out our bags and I packed the trunk, we said our goodbyes. Promises to come back and visit more often were shared. An open invitation to stay with us in New York was offered. Her parents would see us soon. Everyone congregated around the car to see us off.
I opened the door for her.
“Shotgun!” She laughed, sliding in.
“Always, baby,” I said, leaning in to give her another kiss.
She slid over afterward, cheeks flushed, unlocking my side.
“The door test.” Colt nodded. “She passed with flying colors.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t forget to tell Maggie Beautiful I said hello, now.”
“Will do,” I said.
We shook hands and I slid into the driver’s seat, a rush of memories flooding over me all at once. The smell of leather, the radio playing, the girl of my dreams sitting next to me, naïve and in love, but already stating with an adult’s conviction that she wanted me and no one else for the rest of her life.
Yeah, lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Scarlett scooted next to me; her legs vibrated with the power of the motor. “You broke a lot of rules in this fast car, Brando Piero Fausti. You broke barriers this small town hasn’t broken since.”
“Only one that counts though.” I pressed the gas down harder, feeling her power underneath my hands. She was ready for the burnout.
“Which one?”
“You.”
“Not the entire truth,” she said, pinching me.
“I didn’t know at the time you’d be the only one that’d count. I didn’t know it until I did it, and I was able to look back to understand how significant breaking the rule had been.”
“That makes sense.” She smiled. “I broke a rule too. The most dangerous one of all! More perilous than anything evenyoucould’ve ever done.”
“Yeah?” I lifted a brow. “Let’s hear it.”
“You,” she grinned, looking as wicked as she was in bed. “Think of it. All those hearts I broke just by marrying you! Thenerveof me! Ooh, and if they only knew how rich you are now!”
“How richweare,” I corrected her.
“We.” She sighed, shaking her head. Then she perked up again. “I can feel the pins in me now! We’re talking voodoo-doll level of insanity here.”
“No doubt. You’ve always been audacious to a fault. Breaking hearts is messy business, Ballerina Girl.” She hit me, and I laughed against her hand as I kissed it. “Want to hear a joke, baby?”
“It’s never really a question with you.”
“Why are so many Italians called Tony?”
She thought for a moment, her brows drawn down in concentration. She looked like a little girl when she thought hard. I could hear all of the voices in her head chatting at once, trying to figure it out, and I almost laughed again.
“To…” I prompted.
“Oh!” Her entire face brightened with the answer. “New York. TO NY!” She laughed harder than probably necessary, but she sincerely thought the joke was funny. “You’re a trip, Brando!”
“Yeah, a trip,” I said, taking her hand and kissing it again. “You ready for this change?”
“Are you?” she asked, her face serious.
“Change can’t touch us.”
