It was never something I allowed myself to think about before. What he did in his free time. Or who he did it with. I was so focused on dancing, so I wouldn’t obsess about him and the connection, that I didn’t even give those thoughts much of my energy. I knew what I could and couldn’t handle. Adding that to the things I could barely deal with would have broken me.
Plus, I was young, and that wasn’t really on my mind. He was older than me.
It must have always been on his mind because he’d left me with a warning. No one could touch me, and if they did—death. There was no room in my life for another man but him.
Crossing my arms, I narrowed my eyes at him. His face was peaceful. It seemed like he was deep asleep. But it was hard to tell with him. I had a feeling if I threw a bucket of cold water on his face, I’d find out, though.
I had no clue that seeing a woman look at him like she knew him intimately would freeze my heart and then make it sick.
Again, back then, it was something I refused to think about. All I could think about was how I refused to doom him.
Part of me had wanted him to kill me with his rejection. All of me would have died if he did. I’d been truly fucked either way. So I never really thought about what he was out doing in the world romantically. I focused on dance and tried to forget the rest. But we kept in contact so often, and nothing led me to believe he was ever interested in someone else.
Deep down, I knew I couldn’t truly blame him. I was the one who pushed him away. But…jealousy had its own mind, and it was controlling mine.
I sat up, the covers falling. I was completely naked under the thin blanket. I made sure he saw it last night. He’d come in smelling like a bonfire, his eyes just as hot. We made eye contact. I’d wanted him to come to me, but I’d be damned if I showed it.
I’d lifted my brow. He’d lifted his.
He stripped after, taking a quick shower, then sliding in beside me. Our skin was so close, crying out for each other, but neither of us would budge.
He turned over, and that big weapon between his legs poked me in the behind. It continued poking me all night. I thought he was teasing me, and it pissed me off. It looked like it hurt, though, so I felt we were even.
After sliding out of bed and doing the necessary things in the bathroom, I dressed in a purple tank top, sans bra, and cutoff shorts. I made coffee and took a biscotti out of the jar one of his great-aunts had dropped off. The end was dipped in chocolate. I took it outside to enjoy some fresh air. The sun was barely up, but it was hot already.
There was a reason southern Italy was calledmezzogiorno.It meant midday or noon. The sunshine at that time of the day couldn’t be matched. I could tell the morning was building up to it.
Saverio had an old table set on the side of the casa. The table was made up of a variety of colors set into a Sicilian mosaic pattern. The chairs were iron. I took a seat and watched as the sun fully made its rise, sipping my coffee and nibbling on my biscotti.
Saverio told me I was free to decorate our casa. It had no personal touches. Even the yard was plain. All the other ones that were inhabited had a style that reflected the people inside. I didn’t really feel like decorating, though. Or even doing yard work.
I tilted my head toward the sun, soaking up Vitamin D like a sponge, and twisted my hair up. I wanted to be on the beach, lazing around like a lizard.
The brightest part of my conversation with Carlo was when he brought up the beach. I loved going. Papà always took us, and it was one of my favorite things to do. The beaches in Sicily were my favorite. They were so colorful.
“You’ll be kicking rocks soon.”
I opened my eyes and looked to the side. Saverio leaned against the casa, nothing on but a pair of boxer briefs. The issue from last night was still afflicting him. His eyes went straight to my stiff nipples. I guess we matched.
“I’ll do,” I said, turning my face toward the sun again. He hadn’t come out here because he wanted to see me. He’d come out to see if I was trying to sneak my way to the casa Carlo was staying in.
Carlo had mentioned it the night before. One of Saverio’s great-aunts had invited them. He was always a shameless flirt. He’d find me every time he had business at the theater, asking me to go places with him in my free time. He even invited me on a family vacation once.
What a surprise that would have been if I had gone and happened to find out my husband had connections to them. My heart seemed to growl at the thought.
A dark cloud moved over my light. No. Not a storm cloud. Same mood, though.
My husband stood in front of me, one arm on each side of the chair, caging me in, looking down.
“Get dressed,” he said.
I looked up at him and had to hide the fact that my breath caught when I did. He smelled like peppermint and something undeniably male. Feral. Like healthy sweat.
“For?” I breathed out, cursing myself that my voice sounded breathy.
“The beach.”
I sat up in the chair and turned toward him when he went to walk off. “I’m not going!”
