The thought did things to me.
Things my body took and converted to a wild energy that ran through me and then through her. Even though the weather was mild, almost chilly, we were both sweating. My body was working to please hers, the grunts from my chest deep, and she was climbing, climbing, climbing, until she shattered with a cry that seemed to make the leaves tremble above us. I spilled myself into her and then pulled her close, using my jacket to cover her.
“I think I need sleep now,” she said, yawning. Her eyes closed, and I kissed her between them.
She was a silent sleeper unless her sleep was restless. Then she tossed and turned and said things I couldn’t understand. Butafter that night in the hospital where I’d first touched her in the bathroom, she’d slept soundly. She said I tired her out in the best way. She’s told me that even when she danced in Sub Rosa, she never truly felt tired after she got back. She said her room made noises and she didn’t like it.
The thought made me pull her even closer, and she clung to me, entwining our arms and legs in a way that could have made a knot. I sighed. I could die this way, so close to her. In her arms.
My eyes rolled to the top of the tree, where the morning sun was just starting to lighten the spots between the branches. I lost track of time as I watched the leaves tremble and sway with the cool winds that would breeze by. It was a moment of complete peace.
A white butterfly, or maybe a moth big enough to be a butterfly, came flitting down. It hovered over our heads before it ducked even lower, flying around Stella. I tried to wave it away, but it seemed to come even closer, and something about it made my heart race. Like it was fucking trying to tell me something.
I didn’t fucking like it.
Without disturbing her too much, I was able to extract myself from her. I went for our clothes, dressing in record time. I brought her clothes over, ready to wake her up, but stopped cold. The thing with wings fluttered around her stomach, dipping like it was looking for a safe place to land, or maybe water.
“Baby,” I said, swatting at it. “It’s time to get dressed.”
“Ah?”
It came back for her head, and I shooed it again with my hand. I hit it and the top part of Stella’s head, making her hair stand up even more. The white winged creature took off in the opposite direction. I had no clue why, but it made all the hair on my body stand on end.
“Stop messing with my hair, Matteo,” she said, voice full of sleep.
She was like a puppet, and she let me dress her without hardly opening her eyes. I had her clothes on her in record time and picked her up. Leaving the blankets and everything else behind, I rushed toward the villa, bathed in buttery light as the low Tuscan clouds broke around it.
Mamma was in the kitchen, making coffee. The scent of it, so familiar and so rooting, floated through the air, along with rose perfume. Papà sat at the table, his eyes on my mother. I could tell she was antsy as she toyed with the straps of her white robe. When mamma turned to look at me, I swallowed hard and then nodded toward the steps. She nodded back.
I carried Stella upstairs and tucked her into bed. I kissed her, and she cracked her eyes open. “Again?” She stretched her arms.
“Sleep, baby,” I said, kissing her on her lips again. “I’m going to go for a run with my father.”
“Okay.” She turned over, wedged my pillow against her body, and fell asleep again.
I turned the fan on for her, changed my clothes in the bathroom, and then got a few things together for her. I left them on the table next to the bed, then went downstairs.
Mamma and I faced off when I walked into the kitchen.
“Tell me,” I said in Italian.
My father stood, but she held a hand up.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“You don’t know.”
She shook her head. “I don’t. If I did, you know I’d tell you.”
“Something’s wrong,” I said.
“I don’t know,” she repeated again. “The white moth?”
I nodded. “Whatever it is.”
My father looked at her and then at me.
“We saw it the night Ettore held Mia from me,” mamma said. “I dreamed of it last night.”
