With Spain came change. The thin thread that had been keeping me together started to unravel, as though all that we had been through lately stuck its toe through the pattern of our life, our stability, and ran wild with it attached to its fungus-ridden toenail.
Our group split apart due to a difference in opinion of what was important. Rosaria, Abree, and Collette, in the place they longed to be from the start, were ready to continue thepartito. The Spanish football players followed them home, literally, since this was where they lived, and whatever transpired back in Ireland was set to continue. The three of them wanted to venture out and leave the shadows behind to find more life. They thrilled at our packed schedule—Barcelona to Cádiz to Seville to Tenerife. These were places that dazzled in their eyes.The parties! The bars!
While in Barcelona, we rented a hacienda fit for royalty, and we had use of a yacht. Rosaria, Abree, and Collette were eager to take advantage of the latter. It was a massive thing, a superyacht, which was more along the lines of a compact cruise ship. It had three decks, a glass elevator, six cabins fit for the most posh tastes, twenty six crew members (including a private chef), a dining room, a fitness room with wall-to-wall glass for the most stunning views, a beach club area that could host the most elite of parties, and an infinity swimming pool on the aft deck. Oh, and a hot tub somewhere aboard.
The owner of said yacht was a Fausti family friend who had offered up the use of their massive floating mansion as a gift to the family. The superyacht was going to bring us from place to place, more haciendas secured once we arrived at our destinations.
“I am so pale!” Abree complained, placing a hand to her forehead. “All thatmoodyweather!Ick!”
“It has made me want to stop singing,” Rosaria said, the same familiar flair of dramatics in her voice.
“We are here now, no?” Collette put in, fair hair fluffing in the heat-filled air. She turned her long nose up to the azure sky, enjoying the sun as it fell across her face. A long, thin cigarette bobbed from her plump lips. “Let us take advantage.”
That was how the rest of us felt—too much advantage seemed to run through their veins.
Guido had been hit with a metal pipe, splitting his head open and leaving him with a wandering left eye. He was soldiering on, but I was worried about him. So were Valentina, Violet, Chiara, and Carmen. He was stubborn enough not to leave me, but weak enough to accept our help when we gave it to him. I had never seen him so defeated, yet whatever it was that had made him a solider pushed him forward out of a thick sense of duty and a whole lot of pride.
I thought it was stubbornness, myself, knowing the symptoms when I saw them—it was the same hero complex that ran through my husband’s veins.
It seemed we were competing for who could apologize the most, him in constant sorrow that he was not the one to save me from themen who did not deserve to have mothers!, and me because I felt like the effing plague.
Glancing out of the window of the bedroom I was assigned to, the sea rocking the yacht just a tad, I blew out a hot, nervous, tremulous breath. Gabriel and Eva, along with Michael and Layla, had accompanied us to Spain. Brando had asked Gabriel to. I had a feeling, due to the circumstances surrounding me, that more Legion men were not far off on the water. Brando had sent me a text, as I hurriedly packed my things in Galway—he gave me ten minutes to get my things together and then he ordered me out—that he would be off the grid for a while. He was confident that Gabriel and his men could keep me safe.
That was it. I hadn’t heard from him since.
It wasn’t like him to not send me a text, or to make sure that I had arrived safely. Even in the most boring of times he always checked. With no response, I was left biting my lip, trying to keep the one thread in by pulling it back fiercely, which only seemed to shred it even further.
He was right. He was so right. I should have never agreed to this. As soon as the thought came to me, a wave of guilt threatened to suck me under.He needed this,I reminded myself.His brothers needed this. I needed this. I needed to know that something wouldn’t happen to me—well, it did, but I was alive, wasn’t I?
Still, his words during our phone call rang like truth amongst a world full of lies—“We weren’t meant for this, Scarlett. Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty because we are the way we are. Relationships are different. Not all of them are meant to be so dependent on each other. Ours is. I’m not whole without you.” I wanted to cry. The pressure continued to build, but I was never much of a whiner, and crying at this point felt so much like giving in. If I did, I might never snap out of it. It was either dig-in and find whatever courage was left, or give in and allow the world to ravage me.
It’s just a vacation!I yelled at myself. Then again, it wasn’t. Our normal wasn’t normal anymore. Our lives had become filled with betrayal and danger.
There was another thought that made me shiver.
All energy drained, I collapsed on the bed, all function lost. Brando wouldn’t take what happened to me in Ireland with a grain of salt. He could be off the grid riding a safari in Africa, admiring lions and how their teeth sunk right into a gazelle’s flesh, or he could be the lion searching for Taylor, who he considered a water buffalo.
Admiring lions in their natural habit? Wishful thinking on my part. I knew my husband. Ten to one, he had already left Africa for a different kind of hunt.
I sighed. His actions were out of my hands. There was nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t even try to stop him, seeing as every time I called it went straight to voicemail. “Oh.” I pushed down the strangled sob threatening, pulling myself somewhat together. “But I’ll be damned if I don’t want and need you so much, Brando Fausti!”
Violet peeked her head in. She was in her bathing suit, and had been enjoying a book out on the deck.
“Who are you talking to, Sandy?” She looked to the left and then to the right, expecting to find someone.
I waved a hand. “Myself.”
“Did anyone answer?”
“No.”
“You’re good then.” She came in further. She eyed the mess on the bed and on the floor, all of my clothes and shoes scattered around. “What happened here?”
It was unlike me to throw things around—unless it was at Brando’s head—but I had made a complete mess of the room. “I can’t find my bathing suit.” My lip trembled. I didn’t need it in Scotland or Ireland, seeing as we hadn’t visited any beaches warm enough to expose skin. But it must have been close to ninety here, and on the water, even hotter.
She nodded, her eyes flickering from the mess to me. She took a seat next to me on the bed, putting her arm around my shoulder.
“What I’m going to tell you is going to snap you right out of the blue and black balloon you’re in.”
