“Tomorrow.”
“Sicilian Sunday. Or would it be Napolitano Sunday?” I muttered. “Sunday gravy.”
“Sleep, Rosalia.”
After taking a trembling breath, I gave myself over completely, falling into a deep sleep.
26
Rosalia
It was way too early for Bambina to wake me up. She kept nudging my hand with her snout.
“I’m so tired,” I muttered. “Five minutes. I only need five minutes. Or maybe Cilla will—”
The thought of Cilla made my heart drop like a stone. All the pain from the night before rushed me, and I lost my breath.
Warm lips touched my cheek, and when I turned my face, my lips met Aniello’s. He kissed me once, then did the same on my forehead, on my chin, on my cheeks, and then another one on my lips. Then he kissed both sides of my face, up to my eyes.
Bambina hit me with her paw and whined a little before she barked at me. She had a new toy.
“I took her out earlier. She has food and water. She’s worried about you.”
“Where did she get the toy?” I took it from her and flung it. She went after it, but instead of bringing it back, she jumped on the bed, keeping it with her at the bottom.
“Here,” he said.
“Here,” I repeated. “I’ve been here before?”
“Twice, but the toys are new. Quentin thought she’d like them. Everyone thinks she’s a cool little dog.”
I didn’t think my heart could sink any lower, but at the reminder that I couldn’t probably remember the best times of my life, it did.
“I need a shower,” I said, sitting up, trying to put some distance between us. But when I’d sat up, my entire world tilted before it righted itself, like I had a touch of vertigo.
Aniello was suddenly next to me, watching me like I might disappear.
“What?” I whispered.
“You’re pale,” he said, holding out his hand to me.
I took it, and with a grip that was almost too tight, he led me to the bathroom. I knew he wasn’t doing it to show me around. I could tell he was worried about me.
“Rosalia,” he said, before he left me alone.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t leave me again.” With that, he shut the door.
After he left me alone, I thought about his words. Did he mean literally? Or figuratively? He wasn’t a man for metaphors when it came to me. He liked concrete, totally rooted in reality. So maybe he meant leave him like I might have done before? When (maybe) I didn’t give him a choice and was going to marry Richie to save his life?
Maybe Big Bismo had scared me by threatening Aniello, but I put myself in my shoes back then—would I do the same again,ifI even did it? Would I not give him a choice if I thought it meant I’d have to watch him suffer? But I honestly felt there was more to the story than what we both knew.
Then again…
Maybe I was different back then? Maybe Big Bismo had succeeded in scaring me enough to send me running? Then I’d lost all that we’d shared, I almost lost my life, even though somewhere deep down I hadn’t.
Then again…
