“Oh my God,” Juliette said, having a hard time breathing. “If that word doesn’t scream pregnancy, I’m not sure what would.”
“Schlong,” Violet said.
The laughter reached a crescendo. Mia mimicked everyone.Hahahaha!She copied Aunt Lola specifically, putting her hands to her chest just like she was. Maggie Beautiful squeezed her tight, laughing into her hair.
“Stop!” Juliette held her hand up. “You can’t do that to a woman who had a huge baby. My bladder was used as a trampoline. I’m going to have an accident!”
Sylvie slipped to our table then, asking if she could hold Mia. We welcomed her. She seemed like a nice person. I think she still felt guilty about what Nemours had put her up to doing.
Face to face, we looked nothing alike. The only resemblance was the color of our hair. Since Lou, Guido’s wife, had cut mine shorter, even that connection was slim.
Laughter still rang out in the restaurant from our table, but there was a sudden hush in certain corners that told me my husband had walked in, even without the humming in my blood.
It wasn’t just Brando. I knew it was a few of the men.
The snow bunnies from outside had made it into the restaurant, ready to shed some layers of clothes. Statuesque blondes, most of them. Women who belonged on a Swiss chocolate wrapper.
Why did it always come down to chocolate? Brando’s first experience in bed had been with a Swiss chocolate maker, much older than him.
Once upon a time I loved chocolate. Loved.Past tense. Even the thought of it made me nauseated.
A rush of cool air clung to me as Brando stepped up to the table, putting his hand on my shoulder in a proprietary move.
“Tell me what’s so hilarious.” He wasted no time easing into the conversation.
“You probably don’t want to know,” Violet said, and the women erupted again.
“I was giving them lessons in German,” I said, “Mein Mann.”
Brando understood that those words meantmy husband. He had asked me to give him a few basic German phrases, such asmeine Frau(my wife),meine Tochter(my daughter), and the word for hospital,krankenhaus. He was nothing if he wasn’t thorough.
“She attracts too much attention,” Brando said, his eyes softening when he looked at Mia. “Like her mamma.”
So, he’d already been briefed about the couple and why they’d stopped.Thorough.
Brando and his family had a prove-your-loyalty-to-mefirstmentality. No trust was given until it was earned in their world.
I, on the other hand, had a built-in sensor. I’d only felt curiosity from the woman; perhaps she wanted a child of her own. Like most husbands, especially newlywed ones, he had tagged along.
No more jokes were told at the table after Luca arrived, followed by Rocco, Dario, and more men, along with some wives. The table shifted to accommodate the people who had come in and the mood.
After what felt like a long day, I rested my head on Brando’s shoulder, using it as a pillow.
“You’regetting a lot of attention,” I murmured.
The women wouldn’t stop.
“Baciami,” he said, coming in to kiss me—thoroughly.
When he pulled away, I was dazed and feeling the absence in my bones. Even though we were together, lately it hadn’t felt that way. We were separated by opposing forces and trying to figure out how to get around them to get back to each other.
Talk soon turned to what the men had been doing on the slopes, and what they wanted to do—scale the Matterhorn and ski down it. Rocco, Dario, and Donato kept expressing opinions about it from their table.
My eyes started to droop, listening to familiar voices. The soup settled like a warm hug in my belly, along with the flickering ember in my womb that made me feel drowsy.
“Explain the thought,” Brando whispered in my ear.
“Hah?” I asked.
