Her face was flushed from the heat. A few bubbles of sweat coated her upper lip. Ruby panted next to her.
She stopped the bike and set her Ray-Bans on her head. “Was that you I heard giggling over here?” She wiped Mia’s forehead before she placed a kiss there. “Or was it you?” She tickled Massimo and he scrunched up, laughing. “Or was itPapà?”
She leaned over on her bike and tapped her lips. I leaned down and kissed her, tasting salt and something sweet. Leftover strawberries from earlier.
“Can you still handle the ride, old man?” She grinned at me.
“Vecchio uomo,” I muttered, and Rocco laughed. “This old man will show you what he can still do.”
“Is that a promise?” She lifted her eyebrows.
“Come,” I said. “Let’s keep going.”
Rocco took off, heading toward Rosaria, who was a row or two away, chatting with Carmen and Dario.
Men swarmed the area, moving along the trails, around the trees, and every spot in between like solider ants ready for battle. Mia waved at a few of them, and they all blew her kisses as we passed. Some of them even hollered her name, making it into a song.
Scarlett laughed so hard that we had to stop peddling when Mia, enjoying the men singing her name, tilted her head and started bobbing to the sound of it.
“Ia,” she breathed. “Ia!”
When she noticed her mother laughing again, she mimicked her. Scarlett started up again, but the pause gave me time to think. And I was starting to think that my wife was being a sneaky mouse.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “You promised not to make a big thing of this.”
“Does it look like I’m making a big thing ofthis?” She sighed, getting control of herself. “You told me you didn’t want anything big for your birthday, so we did this. And I baked you a little cake to have at the pool. That’s not big.”
“All I want is to spend the day with you and Mia. Cake sounds good too.”
“But I—”
I held a hand up, stopping her. “No, Scarlett.”
She sighed again. “You’re no fun, old man.”
“Call me old man once more and you won’t be able to sit on that bike for a month.”
“Ooh.” Her eyes heated. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Fausti.”
Taking a handful of the top of her dress, I pulled her closer, staring into her eyes. “Be careful what you wish for, Ballerina Girl.”
“Happy Birthday,mio angelo,” she whispered, this time kissing me. “I thank God every day that you were born, but I always thank Him twice today.”
“You’re trying to butter me up.”
She shook her head. “No. You know I mean every word.”
She reached out to run her hands through my hair. I stiffened for a moment, then relaxed and let her. Those moments still seized me sometimes, the rush of emotions that came with them.
I turned my face, kissed her wrist, and let the moment settle. “What were you and Juliette talking about?”
“Having a party here after the olive harvesting. If we’re going to do it, we need to start planning now.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s everything.”
I eyed her suspiciously for a minute, not believing her. She was holding something back. I didn’t like it.
