“No.” She shook her head, and then smiled sadly at me. “I just heard her say it.”
“Ah,” and despite myself, I laughed. “You have ears like a—”
“If you say mouse or elephant…”
This time I studied her. “Why are you so touchy about your ears, baby?” Even to my own ears, the tone of my voice came out soft. Nowhere near condensing. If anything, I sounded like a lovesick Romeo, desperate to right whatever she felt was fucking wrong.
I went to touch her ear and she moved her head.
“I never made a deal of this before. But I will. Tell me.”
She had odd ways when it came to earrings. She was specific about the style she wore. I always had to keep that in mind. The issue about her ears, though, didn’t start until after I’d traded her life for mine, after she was taken from me.
Until then, I hadn’t pushed the issue. The tone of her voice when she thought I was going to make fun of her ears pushed me to.
“It’s—”
I went to bite her breast again, this time in a more centralized spot, and she stopped me with a hand to my head.It’s nothingwasn’t going to fucking cut it.
“It’s not something I want to admit, all right?” She blew out a heavy breath and looked toward the window. “My ears. They’re mousy. Or some would say elephant like, maybe the tips.”
I thought about the difference between rodent ears and elephant ears—then I tried to connect both with hers.
“I don’t see the connection, baby.”
She shook her head, and I could tell she was bracing herself. She stuck a hand behind each ear and pushed out. I stared at her, dumfounded.
“You’re being fucking serious.”
“Yes, BRANDO! I am!” She moved a bit on my lap, finally letting her hands down. “Look. I made up the elephant-ear comparison, but I do have mouse ears. Nemours started the rumor. The likeness made its way down to his cronies. When I was on the boat pretending to be Collette, on my way to get you back, Dr. Kevorkian and her accomplice were making fun of my ears. They didn’t know it was me on the boat, but they were.”
Even hearing about that time brought back a barrage of memories. It was like my skin had been turned inside out and once righted, my mind never forgot the sensation.
We were almost killed, though, and she was still stung that those murderers weremaking funof her ears. Even though I thought about it in those terms, for some reason, she took it to heart.
Turning her face towards mine, I refused to let her look away. “I tell you you’re beautiful. He tells you—what, that your ears are small? Too big? Tell me who you believe—me or him.”
“You love me.”
“What’s love got to do with it?”
“Everything.”
“You’re perfect—love or not. Just the way you fucking are.”
“You sound like a song,” she said, shaking her head, but she smiled. “A cliché song.”
“I believe that’s called aclassicwith a twist.”
“Whatever it’s called—” She waved a dismissive hand. Her ring caught the light and shimmered, sending a quick, hot beam toward the window. “My ears are…what they are.”
“They are,” I said, leaning up to suck her earlobe, “perfetto.”
Her eyes closed and a shiver ran through her, and then through me. We didn’t have long to enjoy it, though. When our attention zoomed out of our private moment, Peter stood at the entrance of the kitchen, watching us. He had finally convinced Sue to leave with Silvio.
“I have that.” He nodded to us.
“I have that,” I said, “or we have that.”
