Icouldn’t take my eyes off her.
One of the perks to not having a job that required my constant attention was that, when the kids were at school, we had time on our hands. Time to do whatever the hell we pleased.
We pleased each other.
Watching her scuttle back and forth from one side of the bathroom to the next, attempting to make herself presentable, made my cock twitch. Flopped over on my bare leg like a lazy fucking eel, it started to come alive with the electricity I felt when I looked at her. I had just had her, and I wanted her again. But time ticked.
The kids would be home from school soon, and each of them had something different to do afterward. Mia had ballet. Matteo had soccer. Mariano had baseball. Marciano had karate, but since Scarlett’s parents had him today, they were taking him.
I glanced over at the clock on the nightstand.
No, no time. Unless…
“Brando,” she said, shaking her head. “You need to get ready!”
“Ah,” I waved the thought of time off. “It’ll take me five minutes. Tops.”
Leaning up, I put both of my hands behind my head, watching her even more intently. She didn’t notice. If she did, she didn’t show it or comment on it.
I’d been watching her more than usual, ever since the night at her father’s cabins in the woods.
It had only been a week, and the bruises from that night were even more vibrant, about to start fading into green. The other marks were still red, but I knew those were more recent—five minutes ago more recent.
Still, that night kept coming back to haunt me.
Whatever had transpired between us kept me awake at night or made me have nightmares.
The way she’d sprang up out of bed, took off out of the door, heedless of the men around, and flew like a ghost through the night toward her grandparents’ cabin. The one immortalized with their memories—a bed of roses eerie underneath the bleaching moonlight. It made the crimson petals seem like they were frozen in silver ice, sharp thorns dripping mercury.
My wife’s mood hadn’t changed much since that night.
She was being more reserved than usual. Like she had more on her mind and couldn’t sort through it all. She stared harder at the sky, gazed at me more, the kids too, and more often than she had been, had been going to the cemetery to visit her brother and Mick’s graves.
Occasionally she attempted to tell me things again.
I stopped her. I couldn’t stop her from telling the kids, though, or hugging them tighter, kissing them longer. Or taking the kind of breaths against their heads that one takes when trying to inhale someone’s essence.
She had been spending more time in the studio with Mia, teaching her things that she felt were important. I watched from my corner, arms and feet crossed, taking in the lessons and the way the teachers even studied Scarlett’s every move—they were learning from her too, in awe at how she could move.
There wasn’t a dry eye in the room when she danced to “All I Ask of You” fromPhantom of The Opera. My eyes overflowed too, something only she could move me to do.
The song was one Luca had been known to sing to her because he knew it was one of her favorites. That aside, I couldn’t imagine hearing the song and not seeing her dance to it. It had imprinted somewhere deep and hidden, like when a smell clings to a memory.
When the memory came, my stomach dropped and my heart felt light, like I’d hit the biggest dip known to man.
“What’s on your mind, Fausti?”
I’d been so deep in thought that I hadn’t realized that she had come to stand over me, looking down with an eyebrow quirked up. The memory had turned into reality—that moment we were in. I was naked instead of watching her dance—when she did, I was vulnerable, something I never was even when my skin and bones were exposed to the world.
She had dressed in a soft grey dress that reminded me of a long t-shirt, and an old jean jacket. Her hair curled around her head in an auburn halo, and her skin seemed to shimmer in the dim light. We had closed the curtains earlier for privacy, but some sun still slid through the slats, touching her with kind fingers.
Her eyes glistened, emerald green, and so did the bangle bracelets and watch on her wrist. Her wedding rings too. No matter where we were, she always seemed to wear a piece of jewelry I’d given to her. She smelled of candied roses and me.
“Tu,” I said, sitting up, taking her hips in my hands, pulling her between my legs. Her legs were so damn gorgeous that a low whistle escaped from my lips. “Sempre.”
She grinned and touched my face, caressing the scruff that lined my jaw. “Me, ah? You’re not sick of me yet? We’ve been together a long time.”
Leaning in, I kissed her palm. “Never.” I bit her wrist and she pulled away before she came back to touch me—real hesitant.
