Carmen was usually more reserved, but at this, her face became a hard mask. “You didn’t almost lose your wife!” she hissed at Rosaria. “Stop the damn car!” she shouted at the driver.
The car came to an abrupt halt, sending us all forward. I flung open the door and bolted for him. We collided somewhere in the middle of the sidewalk. I collapsed into him, his hands in my hair, forcing me to look him in the eye.
“I can’t,” he whispered, breathing heavy. “I can’t. I’m a fucking man and I can’t let you go.”
“Brando, I swear to you. I’ll be all right.” I was shaking him, or shaking both of us—my nerves had reached the surface of skin. “I’ll be all right.”
“Il sangue del mio cuore mi lascia,” he kept repeating.The blood of my heart leaves me.The desperation in his voice almost broke me. He still hadn’t gotten over me almost dying. Watching me leave, not knowing what was going to happen, trapped him underneath the wreckage.
“I’d feel it,” I promised him. “You know I would.”
He shook his head. He didn’t believe me. Still, he released me, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie to hand me the box I had left next to the bed. “Open it,” he said, pushing it into my hands.
“You bought me a watch too?” It was a pink gold bangle watch, plenty of diamonds dotting the thick band like stars. I could tell it was from the Fausti family’s private jeweler—they had a certain elegant style to their work.
“Don’t fix it,” he whispered.
I looked up at him in question, and then to the side, when someone cleared her throat. A middle-aged woman with purple hair stood with her back against the wall, eyes wide, watching us over her romance novel. If the situation didn’t feel so heavy, I would have laughed.
Brando turned my face toward his. “Vai ora.” He kissed my lips softly. “O non ti lascerò.”Go now, or I will not let you.
It wasn’t until we were almost to Scotland that I realized what he meant bydon’t fix it. He had set the watch to the time we would be together again—in three weeks. He texted me upon my arrival in Edinburgh and instructed me to check my back pocket.
He had slipped the card I left on the bathroom counter into the pocket, along with a note:
Baby,
Use the card. I’ll know if you don’t and I’ll come for you. No excuses.
The time on the watch belongs to me—mine. I’ll hold my breath until the hands start to move again.
Always,
Brando
Part II
Chapter Eleven
Scarlett
“I love Ireland!” Violet stuck her head out of the window, basking like a dog in the sunshine and cool air. A beautiful breeze filtered in through the opening, making fresh ribbons dance around the rest of us.
Since Violet was the most experienced driver, meaning that she wasnotItalian and wouldnotspeed up around death-defying turns, she got the job when we went on driving excursions. Our chaperones were in a van behind us, following at close range. In fact, I wasn’t sure if they could stop in time if Violet came to an abrupt one. She was known to do this when something caught her eye.
I hoped nothing caught her eye for a while. She was riding the brake as though her foot was indecisive, and the cliffsides here were not perilous.
We had left Scotland and were in Galway, Ireland, with two days left before we jetted off to Spain, and we had just finished visiting the Cliffs of Moher. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel the history beneath my feet, smell the brine in the air, and hear the waves crashing below in monstrous roars that called to some sailors.
A rainbow had arched across the horizon. For some reason the sight of it had brought Gabriel and Michael Roberts to mind, their Irish brogues and bright smiles. I had also thought about them when we biked through the Aran Islands, islands that were lined with stone and thatch cottages, sitting at the mouth of Galway Bay. Being in Ireland, it was hard for me not to think of the friends Brando and I had made in New Orleans. And Eva. I thought of her often, and always with a warmth that seemed to light my soul.
“Isn’t it nice to enjoy a place for being the place it is? No shopping, no bars or clubs, or fancy restaurants. Nothing but the natural land to make you always see the beauty in life.” Carmen sighed and turned to the cliffside, taking out her camera and snapping off a picture or two of sheep bleating their way across emerald grass. The scene was almost too perfect to be real—it seemed more like a painting.
Carmen had picked all three destinations, much to the dismay of Rosaria, her sister Abree, and Collette. Rosaria’s temper had never flared so brightly as when she had to ride a bike or a horse. Or generally enjoy nature. She looked forward to the yacht on the water, bars with sensually named drinks, and hot sunshine on her flawless skin. At Carmen’s comment, Rosaria made a derisive noise in her nose, digging in her bag for her perfumed lotion. A few more windows came down to allow more fresh air in.
“What’s wrong with Ireland?” Chiara asked from the very back of the van, where she sat next to Valentina. “Or Scotland for that matter?”
“Yes,” Valentina put in. “You seem to have grown a grampus in your nose due to visiting these places. You should get that checked out. It does not sound healthy.”
