Right before we faded into sleep, I brought his hand to my mouth, kissing his fingers. He lifted his free arm above my head and started to play with my hair. I knew it fluffed out on the pillow like some wild nimbus strewn about by a storm.Him.
“Tell me you know that I’ll always come back to you, Brando Piero Fausti. Even if you release me, like you did my wrists, I’ll always come back. I’m not going anywhere—ever. There’s an invisible line between us that no one else can see. It connects us, keeping us tangled, even when we’re not physically. I’m yours. All yours.”
Keeping his hand close to my mouth, I enjoyed the feel of his fingertips against my lips. I wanted to breathe him in during dreams, feel him touch my tongue and my lungs.
He breathed deeply, releasing it, a warm wind drifting over my skin, before he said, his voice laced with weariness, all of the stress catching up to him, “You are, my baby. My only truth. The one thing in this world that’s truly mine.”
31
Scarlett
My husband slept as though he had never won the battle against sleep in his life until that moment.
He kept me in a firm embrace, and after sleeping for a while, he must’ve turned me toward him, keeping my head and breasts pressed against his chest. His heart beat a steady, reassuring thump that made me feel safe.
The sun glared through the windowpanes, hot against my bare back, and straight into my husband’s face. He didn’t seem to mind the light.
My husband—two words that still gave me a thrill.
Two words that made my heart race, made me feel weak in the knees—he still gave me butterflies. I found that it was a simple matter to fall in love with him time and time again.
Then the thrill was followed up by a sense of deep, profound pride. In the both of us. We both had made vows in that church on an island in Slovenia—and we planned on seeing them through, come sacrifice, loss, the most challenging metamorphoses, hell or high water.
No, he didn’t seem to mind the light. He allowed it to touch his face, illuminating all the things he kept secret, only offering them to me.
The thinness of his face was shadowed by scruff that should’ve been shaved long ago. The wildness of his hair that I usually set right. That too needed a trim. Deep-set circles underneath eyes showed that he hadn’t had decent sleep, or anysleep, in much too long.
My mother used to tell the boys that sleep was a monster every boy should slay. To my own chagrin, I found myself repeating the words to my own sons.
If that was the case, though, the monster had been keeping my husband on his toes for much too long. It was about time my beast conquered his own.
He had been through hell for me—and had carried me back, absorbing most of the elements without me even knowing. Most likely, I’d never know by his words what he’d been through. I couldfeelthe aftershocks of the ordeal coming off him like steady breaths, and I wanted to absorb them as much as I could.
Leaning forward, I pressed my lips against his heart, wishing it was as simple as that to make him better.
He stirred at my touch, and I whispered, “Dormi, amore mio.” At the sound of my words, he held me tighter, causing the breath to escape from my lungs. I squirmed a bit and he released me, but not by much.
Sighing, I allowed the contentment to seep through me, enter my bloodstream…relax me. The sun at my back made me breathe easier, and after a few minutes, I thought sleep would take me again too. But it didn’t.
I felt wired, something inside of me at odds with the atmosphere in the room. The water at my back, it felt like it was pressing in on me, pushing me toward the shore.
Move. Do it.
I sighed again, this time louder, harder.
Tired. I’m too tired.
You’re not. Get up.
Seeing as Brando had me practically trapped, I found this as good as of an excuse as any to stay right where I was. Then again, the kids would be up soon, and he needed sleep. I’d take care of them. Besides, at this rate, I’d start moving like ants had invaded our bed. That too would wake him up.
If I could slip out without…
He made a noise in his throat, a restless noise that reminded me of a sleep-deprived animal that was on the verge of tears. At the sound, the pieces of my heart that had been made thin shattered into a million pieces.
“Brando,” I whispered. “Sleep. I’m not going far.”
“Where?” Only he could make a question sound like a command.
