In that moment, I could believe it. Believe that we could stay this way together forever. Snuggled close in the warmth of our small cocoon under the boughs of the olive trees.
Since the weather was cooler, we didn’t have bugs to worry about, which made me relax.
Brando seemed to read my mind again.
“No frogs to make a nest in your hair.” He grinned at me.
I touched my head out of instinct, still feelings its long, muscular legs and the heartbeat in its throat. “I was afraid I’d have warts on my scalp. He was effing possessed.”
One night while we were camping out, just like this, but in Natchitoches at my parents’ house, a frog had made his way from the river and decided to challenge Brando for a spot in my hair. Every time Brando would attempt to shoo it off, he’d puff up his chest and go—
“Eeeeeeee.”
Brando and I made the noise at the same time. It sounded like the frog was trying to get dial-up internet.
We both laughed so hard that we somehow pulled apart.
Brando rested on his back, hands over his chest, sighing. I did too, but I laughed at the memory every so often.
Settling once again, my fingers stroked the sides of my breasts, roving underneath, the weight heavy against my chest. They were aching more than before. I should’ve relieved myself before we made off for the groves.
“Are you hurting, baby?”
“No, not hurting. I feel…full.”
“You wouldn’t complain if a car ran over your foot,” he said, turning over to face me.
His hand slid underneath the blanket, coming to rest between my thighs. Another pulse had started to beat down there from the soreness. He was gentle, though, caressing me with such tenderness that it made me close my eyes to the stars.
They opened when his mouth closed around my nipple, sucking gently, his hand now splayed against my stomach. My hand came to his head, my fingers stroking his hair, while the pressure eased immediately, and the breath sighed out of me in sweet relief.
Mia couldn’t have this milk anyway, not after all the wine I had. Since she was eating more solid foods, her demands on me had lessened some.
There was nothing overly sexual about what he was doing. Nor romantic. Just tender; he wanted to ease my discomfort and was doing a good job of it.
“Oh.” I sucked in a breath, blinking up.
It was as if a star had fallen from the sky, and on its way down had grown gossamer wings. A white moth flew out of the darkness, perhaps out of a tree, fluttering above me.
The glow of the moon made the winged creature seem almost opalescent, neon in the night. Her wings were diaphanous, dancing on air.
Against the charcoal shapes of the branches, long arms reaching out into the night for the light of the moon, she stood out, almost mythical, even a bit whimsical.
“Do you see her, Brando?” I nodded with my chin toward it. “Are they common here, do you know? Or even out at this time of the year? I’ve never seen one. Ever. Even back home. Or any of the places I’ve been.”
“I’m not sure.” He watched her hover and dance. Then his eyes followed her path until she came to rest on a branch, wings moving in and out. “She probably came from one of the trees.”
“I hope we didn’t disturb her hom—”
Before I could get the words out, it was as though someone simultaneously wrapped a steel hand around my throat and my heart, squeezing with all their demonic worth. I was on my knees, gasping for breath, ready to leave my effing dress if I couldn’t find it in under a second.
“Scarlett.”
“My dress!”
He handed me my dress, and at the same time, was pulling his pants on with one hand. “Talk to me.”
He went to hold me still, but I shook him off.
