“Mamma’s worn out, too,” I whispered, running my hands through her hair.
Instead of taking a warm bath, I settled for kicking my heels off and stuffing my feet into warm wool socks. After what happened last time, the thought of bathing without a chaperone, quite frankly, freaked me out. Since the thought of sleep turned me off, as well, I decided to take some time to write.
Eunice offered to keep an eye on Mia while I did. She couldn’t sleep either, so she sat with Donato while she crocheted, the portable crib next to her. My parents had gone to dinner at the castle, along with Aunt Lola and Uncle Tito. Maggie Beautiful had invited them.
The house was quiet—which helped the words come.
Brando and I had decided to write a book together. His agreement had come as a shock. It never occurred to me that he would want to. Rarely did he agree to anything public.
“That’s your deal, Ballerina Girl,” he’d always say.
He had made the decision at a weak point, though—after he’d found me reading the letters Maja had my mother keep from me.
Sighing, I sat down, turning on the desktop lamp.
I wasn’t sure if he’d complete his half after so many things had changed in such a short period of time. I wasn’t sure ifIwanted to complete my half. It was supposed to be a joint collaboration.
With nothing better to do, though, perhaps it would help distract me. Because if I had to sit and stew, I’d go insane or go looking for him, which also felt like insanity.
An hour later, I finally hit my stride. All that existed was me, the screen, the tapping keys, and the words flowing onto the page. Music played softly in the background, and my feet moved back and forth underneath the desk.
Nino tiptoed in, a glass of—I sniffed—cinnamon something in his hands. “I do not mean to disturb. Signora—Eunice thought perhaps you would enjoy this.”
“Grazie,” I said, holding out my hands for the cup. The tea—it was tea—was creamy and full of cinnamon, a welcome balm to the nip in the air. “Brando?”
He shook his head. “No one.”
I nodded, taking another tentative sip. It was piping hot. “Can I ask you something, Nino?”
He looked behind him, then back at me, and then pointed to himself.
I hid my smile in the cup. I nodded again. “Yes. You. Your name is Nino?”
“Sì!” His voice came out high and he cleared his throat. “Sì.” He took it down a notch.
My nails tapped against the cup. “If…if you had a son, would you want your life for him?”
His thick eyebrows scrunched down. It took him a few minutes to answer. “I do not know.”
“I see.” I sighed. He wasn’t completely being honest with me. I couldn’t blame him.Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.
Ruby let out awoof!, and Nino and I both looked toward the door. A voice rushed toward the room before either one of us could react.
A female voice.
Violet.
A few seconds later, she burst through the office door, almost waylaying Nino in the process.
He pointed over his shoulder. “I will be going now.” He took one look at Violet’s face and hightailed it out of there.
I lifted the cup and thanked him again before I asked Violet, “What’s going on?”
Pacing the floor, she wrung her hands. “Hismajestyhas ordered us to get married!”
“Who’s us?”
“Mitch.” She pointed to herself. “Me.”
