“You have a curious nature.” His tone was almost…dubious.
“Is this bad?” I lifted my sunglasses, wiping the sweat collecting underneath them, before I set them back.
He shrugged. “Could be,” was his answer, and he seemed content to keep me in suspense.
I was about to ask him more about this, being curious again, but was stalled by a break in the trees and what existed beyond it.
Chapter 45
Sistine
“Cascata,” I breathed out after Mariano held the two trees apart and allowed me entrance. I was so taken by the view before me, it took me a hot minute to remember the English word for it.Waterfall.
It was not only the waterfall, although that was the center of this dream.
The land around it was lush from the flow of fresh water. I could smell it in the air, how clean it was. I breathed in a cleansing breath, allowing it to touch my lungs and flow out. The humidity seemed to make the air thicker, but at the same time, I did not find it hard to take a breath.
Through the many breaks in the shading trees bowing toward thecascataand round pool it poured into, sunlight flowed through, highlighting the area and making it glow. Surrounding the pool, a variety of bright flowers bloomed, stretching to reach the heat of the sun from above. Coconuts still in their protective coverings were hidden in the grass.
“Mariano,” I breathed out, trying to catch a—white?—butterfly with the camera as it stretched its wings, floating in front of us, not getting too close to the sprays of water. I thought perhaps the droplets were coming too hard and too fast for itswings to survive a hit. “This is…I do not have the words. This truly isparadisoon earth.”
“Come,” he said, taking my hand, leading me closer to the bank of the freshwater pool. It was clear, so clear and so cool looking. I could not wait to be immersed in its welcoming arms.
He held my hand until we reached a rocky area of the hill we had to climb to get to the waterfall. He stopped. His hands went to his hips, which seemed carved into his skin. I did not think I could keep up with counting all the muscles he had. I took a picture of them instead.
He turned to me and, without a word, swooped me off my feet. “The rocks can get slippery.” He nodded in the general area of them.
I could see they were slick with algae.
“What if you fall?” I whispered.
“I’ll protect you with my body,” he said. “But as long as we’ve been coming here, no one has slipped.”
“Not even your mamma?”
“Nah,” he said. “My old man wouldn’t allow it.”
“Neither will you.”
His eyes cut to mine.
I smiled.
He turned them forward.
At times I sensed something…something he kept close to his chest about his parents. It was not outright…resentment, but something murky lurked on the edges of his eyes when the memory, or memories, came to him. I could not fathom what his parents could have done, but again, the Fausti family was complex, and their rules were not for everyone.
Perhaps in time he would share with me, but knowing him, he would not unless he was pressed.I would not do that to him. If he ever wanted to share with me, I was his ear.
It grew silent between us as Mariano navigated the rocks. The waterfall, this close, sounded as if water was being poured from a lifted teapot into a lowered cup. Splashes of water hit him in the face, on his chest, and some clung to the small baby hairs around my head.
The humidity had to be almost one hundred percent, which was the only reason he was wet. Even climbing this elevated surface, me in his arms, would not make him sweat. It took hard exercise to get him panting and sweaty. I leaned up a little and licked his throat. He was salty and so delicious.
He shivered. “You do that again, and we won’t be going for a swim.”
I laughed, and it was breathy.
We entered agrotta(or cave) from behind the waterfall. It was not a small space, but it was small enough that we could not lose each other. The waterfall cascaded in front of us, and some of the water splattered inside, but the back of the cave was safe from it.
