Sometimes I found myself even missing him. Toward the end, he’d almost called mestregain a playful way, and I was sorry that things couldn’t have been different. Especially for him and Brando. They both deserved to have a relationship like the one Brando and Uncle Tito had.
Brando refused to admit it, but he really loved the old doctor. Considered him a grandfather even. Some people titled what Uncle Tito was to Brando, what he had been to Marzio, as aconsigliere. The term was much simpler to the Faustis—confidente—and Uncle Tito was even more to Brando than that.
Surprising me, Maggie Beautiful pulled down the neckline of my dress. I went to slap her hand away, but she was too fast. She saw.
“Maggie Beautiful!” I did move her hand away this time.
She laughed so hard she gulped for air. “You have love marks! Fresh ones. Like a teenager!”
“So?”
“I’m glad to see the attraction between you two is still strong. I always knew it would last forever. The beautiful years have brought you adoration and love to last beyond your days.”
Her words were beginning to worry me. I hadn’t felt anything wrong with her, and I had told Brando as much as often as I could. My words put him at ease, but not for long. Every chance Luca got, he brought it up. In turn, Brando would bring it up to me. We both knew it was only a matter of time before he requested this “walk” with me.
I started to wonder then if there was something going on with her that I hadn’t noticed.
I stopped her by putting a hand to her arm. “Give it to me straight,” I said, not mincing words. “What’s going on?”
“Scarlett Gorgeous,” she breathed, “you’re even turning into him.Sobossy.”
I narrowed my eyes. She sighed.
“This walk you’re taking with your father-in-law, tell him I’m all right when you go on it.”
“You want me to lie to him?”
She bit her lip, thinking that over. “No. It’s not a true lie. He believes I’m sick, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, though he hasn’t asked me directly. Brando’s the messenger.”
“He’s worried,” she whispered. “Worried that I’m going to be taken from him. And that explains the way Brando has been looking at me too. They’re both worried.”
“I’m worried too,” I whispered. “I wasn’t, but now…” I squeezed her hand.
She looked up at me, her eyes so expressive. “I’m not sick, doll. But—he thinks I am.”
“Why?”
“It started in Positano. That’s where Aberto and I were married. And.” She sucked in a breath, then released it in a slow sigh. “Dammit, I still have feelings for the man!”
“Aberto? Of course you do—he was your husband—”
“Yes,” she said, her voice soft, but firm. “But a man like Luca could never understand that. You and I both know it. While we were there, visiting at the villa, I couldn’t help but look out over the Mediterranean with its huge moon shining over the sea, and remember.
“I told you that I was touched, the first time we met. I am. I mean, I hid the feelings from him. If I didn’t, I knew he’d go mad. I blamed it on not feeling well. A man comes to his own conclusions after a filtered version of the truth. He took it as sickness. I guess in a way, I was. Sick over the fact that I’m the reason a good man was killed so violently.”
We stood staring at each other for a minute or two until I cleared my throat.
“Yet?”
“When I compare the feelings, it’s comparing apples to oranges. Passion to friendship.” She shrugged. “The guilt eats me up, Scarlett Gorgeous. Being there, it became acid in my blood.”
“Now?”
“I’m better, but I have my days.”
I nodded. “He mistook your feelings for Aberto as sickness.”
