We both laughed, though she slapped at my hip.
“Lingua,” she said, reminding me to watch my language.
I sighed, bringing my lips to her neck. She tasted of champagne, perfume, and the tang of salt.
“If knights and castles still existed, and my father would’ve said no to our marriage, would you have stolen me from the castle?”
“Depends.”
“Oh?” she said, the word entirely too curious. She seemed to expect an automatic yes. “On?”
“How good of a swordsman I was. And he was.”
“Pollo,” she said, smiling.Chicken.
I pulled her closer and she gasped.
Stealing was a boy’s game. I would win her fair and square like a man.
“Vorrei morire per il tuo onore,” I breathed on her neck.“E se avessi vinto il tuo onore, ti avrei portato al mio castello per vivere per sempre.” I would die for your honor. When I won, I would have taken you to my castle to live forever.
“Mio eroe,”she breathed out.My hero.“You’re so brave, Brando. You make me feel safe.”
“I’m brave because you make me brave. I have no fear because I’d never want to see you hurt or scared.I’m strong because of you.”
“So you ignore the fear because you don’t want me to be scared?”
I thought about her question. How to even explain?
“Sometimes,” I said, after a while. “Reality doesn’t reach me until after, when I start to think aboutwhat if. In the moment, I am who I am. Who I need to be.”
“A man,” she said.
“If it needs a label, call it what you want.”
“No, that’s what youare. You’ve always been a man.”
Her last words hovered in the air, and we became silent. Sounds of the party drifted out of the castle’s walls, still surging ahead. It would be a while until Monica delivered whatever had been left in their care.
Come morning, we were going home. I refused to stay another night—I couldn’t stand to see my wife scared of a lurking ghost.
Scarlett said something, but my attention was focused on Matteo—wondering if he was out there, or if he had only made an appearance in Slovenia to claim Maja and take her with him.
If it were me, I would have.
“Brando,” she said, and I realized she was irritated. “If you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to.”
It was clear by her tone that I had to answer. Marriage makes you wise to these things.
“Repeat that. Once more.”
She sighed. “Did she make you feel like a man?”
“Who?”
“The chocolate—Elin,” she said, and the woman’s name seemed to leave a bitter taste in her mouth. She pursed her lips.
Fucking Rocco. Monica’s mention of her being his first sent Scarlett down memory lane yesterday. I saw it while we were standing in the library. She was reliving the time I told her of my first—the woman who owned the chocolate shop back home.
