“Okay,” I said, taking a bite.
“Yes, people have done things to me, and despite my hurt feelings, I understood the drive behind the behavior, whether I really wanted to or not. Sometimes it’s like watching a wildanimal do what it does, hating that I’m watching a stronger species eat another for dinner, but understanding that, for that wild animal to survive, it’s programmed to do what it does.”
“Yeah,” I’d said. “But…isn’t our conscience what separates us from beasts?”
“You’ve been talking to Uncle Tito.” She took a small bite of cookie and smiled at me.
I returned it. “I like talking to him. I like talking to anyone who challenges me to think. After so many years in solitary confinement, even basic conversation feels so good.”
She leaned over, took my hand, and squeezed, then sat back. “That is what separates us, but when someone is taught a certain way and can’t see past their own world, they don’t think the behavior is wrong. Most of the time, the behavior is justified in their eyes.”
“Rosaria?”
“Ah,” she sighed. “Exactly. Except, neither of her parents have the, er, drive she does, but she’s always had money and status. She married Rocco thinking he would be the next King of Italy, and he will be, but since Matteo is first in line to rule after Rocco, instead of Massimo, their line will only be temporary. That’s not what she wants. She wants her name tied to this family even after she’s gone—through a son. Her blood mixed with Rocco’s.”
“I don’t understand it.”
And I still didn’t, but maybe being out in the world would give me some perspective on how the world viewed this family, not just from the inside. Maybe that was what Rosaria was addicted to? Status? I guess that would fit in with money and power, though.
I sighed, pushing those thoughts aside when Matteo asked me, “Ready, baby?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
“You guess.”
I nodded, and he just stared at me. Then he hauled me off my feet, taking a seat on our bed, and cradled me to his chest.
“You’ll be with me.” His voice was rough.
“I know,” I whispered.
“I’m not going to let anyone, or anything, hurt you, if it’s in my power.”
“I know that too.”
We sat there for a second, quiet settling around us.
“Tell me,” he whispered.
“After…after our honeymoon, I want to go back to Louisiana. I want to find…my mom. I want the things you found from her.”
He closed his eyes, leaned in, and set his lips on my forehead. He said something in soft Italian and then repeated his vows. “All that I am I give to you. All that is mine is yours.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, letting my heart beat against his. Again, he’d stolen my words, my breath, and the only thing I had to speak for me was my heart. To say these simple words to his:I understand why you chose to remind me of one of your vows.
All that is mine is yours.
He’d meant his strength in this situation.
He knew I was going to need it.
It seemed like the entire family saw us off. Mariano and Marciano would meet us in Paris, our first stop, but everyone else who was central to the family was staying behind. After France, we would head back to Italy to go to Sicily. Mia and Saverio, their two twin boys, and Graziana would be there. Theywere going to stay at Mac and Mari’s place in Modica for the rest of the summer.
Matteo had the rest of our itinerary, but each designation kept slipping my mind. I was too caught up in Paris to think of much else after. I was both excited and terrified to go back. A rush of excitement would overtake me when I thought of seeing it as a free woman, when I thought of visiting all the places me and mom had been to. I was terrified because I knew it was taking a Fausti army to pull the trip off, and how dangerous it could be. But Matteo assured me Saverio was extremely competent at what he did, and all security measures had been put into place. Saverio was working remotely so he could be close to Mia and their three kids.
Matteo drove us away with a honk of his horn, and I waved out the window as all the ladies waved us goodbye. It felt like a nice thing to do. It was like they were seeing me off into a new world with the best of luck.
I looked at Matteo, and he looked at me. I took a deep breath and nodded. He hit the gas of the fast car, and we sped toward the airport. Armando and Placido arrived before us and saw us to the plane. It wasn’t Augusto Aurelius who would be piloting the plane, but his father, Naz. Matteo had mentioned that Augusto had gone to America for a while.
