“Sì, SignoraFausti.” She smiled politely at me, but I knew she was thinking I wasn’t all there. It was a voice full of pity. “You are beautiful, and so isCapitanoFausti.”
Boy, did Janis really fuck me up, but I was learning that my sister was right. It was time for me to start taking responsibility for the choices I made and moving on with my life. But it was hard sometimes to leave all the old baggage behind. And the strife in Nazzareno’s family was playing havoc on my nerves too.
We were almost to Naples, and I wasn’t sure what to expect once we landed, except for a smooth touch down. My husband was good like that.
I sighed and set my phone down. I picked it up. I downloaded the Instagram app, which Minnie loved, and created an account. I put my username as AF, which is my initials, but also the initials of Nazzareno’s airline.
Air Fausti.
There was something there to read into, and I did for a second, but then I decided to concentrate on what I was doing instead. Just…burning time so I wouldn’t keep thinking about what was ahead.
I looked through my camera roll and uploaded a picture of me Nazzareno had taken and set it as my profile picture. My side was to the camera, and I was pointing toward one of the pyramids, and from the angle, I looked like I was touching it. My other hand was on my sunhat so the wind wouldn’t steal it.
My bio:A bird who has wings and roots. Come fly with me through many skies.
I uploaded a picture from Cairo, another of the pyramids, and wrote a caption that spoke to the woman I was not even an entire year ago. I spoke of the deteriorating human condition, of how diseased our souls were, and how it was important to balance darkness with light.
This was my story. It had taken a turn when I’d found Tigran murdered on the floor, and it felt good to express parts of it in the caption of this photo, even if it was addressed to the public. I was speaking to those who understood where I’d been and hopefully where I was going.
I also added a little bit of travel info to the bottom and then posted it.
The stewardess let me know it was time to buckle up for the landing.
As expected, I barely felt it, and once we were off the plane, we took Nazzareno’s bike back to Rome, since Lucila, Lilo, and Minnie had gone back to the states.
I held Nazzareno tighter as we made a turn not far from his place. I was starting to recognize the roads. Beni had arrived before us and was walking down the street. He’d parked his car and was heading for the other side of the penthouse.
He stopped to wait for us, and Nazzareno took off.
I made a shocked sound in my throat when my eyes landed on a man who looked familiar inside of a strange car. I slapped Nazzareno on the side, pointing at ON, trying to tell my husband that was him—the guy who had drugged me.
It was too late.
ON revved the car and came straight at us.
Nazzareno turned the bike, trying to avoid him, but instead of getting plowed over from the front, we were hit from the side.
Everything happened so fast, but the moment that stood out to me the most was when my body hit the ground.
It felt like I had run into a steel wall going over a hundred miles per hour, and before I blacked out, all I could think in a panic was…
I can’t feel my legs.
THIRTY-EIGHT
NAZZARENO
The physical achein my side did not even hold a candle to the chaos going on inside of me.
My wife was in a hospital bed, hooked up to monitors, going in and out of consciousness.
I held her hand in mine, the heartbeat of a bird in a lion’s mouth, and set my head on her arm.
I was a man possessed by two opposing sides.
The angel in front of me.
And the devil inside of me.
