Then I’d sighed. “It would have been nice to see more of California before we leave.”
That was all it took.
Matteo didn’t say it, but he didn’t need to. He extended our time. He started taking me to the beach, which was different from the ones in Sicily. The Pacific was gorgeous, and the sand felt so nice against my toes, especially in the evenings, but the water always felt ice cold, even during the hottest times of the day.
On two different evenings, he took me to outside concerts at the Hollywood Bowl, the same place Oscar had taken Noemi. She left right after the date, and Oscar went totally silent about it, but for some reason, I got the feeling that, even though she left, Oscar was satisfied for some reason.
After that, we seemed to explore every inch of Southern California. Museums, food, small events like comedy shows, hiking, dancing, evening rides to watch the sunset, the Griffith Observatory where we used telescopes to see the Hollywood sign and stars, even the Santa Monica Pier. One day, Matteo drove a motorcycle, me behind him, men surrounding us, and took a trip to San Diego to see Auggie. He was in some type of flight program there. We explored that area for a couple of days, and when we got back, I dared Matteo to take me to some of the theme parks to ride all the rides.
“You dare me?”
“I didn’t whisper, Matteo Leone Fausti.I dare you.” I said it even louder, firmer, poking him in the chest.
We stared at each other, the distance still between us, but maybe not as far.
He took my finger, brought it to his mouth, and bit it. “I accept.”
“One more thing,” I breathed out. “No suits. We both go casual.”
He’d dressed causal for the motorcycle ride, bundling me up in riding gear until I thought I’d lose every ounce of liquid in my body and dehydrate, but he was almost always in a suit. I didn't want that day to be so formal. I wanted my husband, for just a day, without the rules of his family to keep him behind invisible lines.
I had a blast on all the rides, and if the lingering grin on Matteo’s face meant anything, he did too. He even exploded with laughter when Placido compared one of the wildest rides to a woman named Varvara, except he said the actual ride didn’t leave as many bruises as she did. Armando had to stop walking, he was laughing so hard.
Marciano called us on the way to the house and demanded to know why we were having so much fun, and he wasn’t invited. He said Mariano never had fun, so it didn’t matter that he wasn’t invited, but it hurt him—the funfratello—to the vessels of his heart that he was left out.
I cracked up, and Marciano’s raspy laughter echoed through the car. Matteo had him on speaker, and he hung up with him. Matteo’s eyes were hard on the road. He’d decided to drive.
Matteo sighed when he had to press on the brake yet again. “So much fucking traffic.”
“I’m not sure I could get used to it,” I said. “But while we’re here…” I turned the music up and sang along until a song came on that sucked.
He turned the music down, and since we were stopped again, he looked at me, my hand still in his from the beginning of the ride.
“Grazie.” He kissed my hand over and over. “La mia stella.”
I held the shark stuffed thing he’d won for me closer to my chest. “For what?”
“For being the light in my darkness.”
Seven words that choked me up.
For being the light in my darkness
“It’s my honor,” I whispered, borrowing words he’d spoken to me over and over before.
It was his honor to be my husband.
To be the man who would love and protect me for the rest of our lives.
It was his honor that I was his.
“Mine,” he’d always said, hitting his chest, the spot right over his heart. “La mia luce.”
“I’ve always been yours, Matteo Fausti. Will only be yours.”
“Always have been, and always will be, my light, my life, my wife.”
I hugged the shark even closer, willing myself not to cry. The things he said to me were heartbreaking at times. I thought they might break his heart to say them. To soften up a spot in himself that allowed those thoughts to breathe in air instead of being trapped in his blood.
