Okay.I needed to go in another direction. Sighing, I set another pair of boxers in the suitcase and walked over to him. I slid my hand over his shoulder, and he turned his face some, kissing my fingers.
“I will be your advisor, your secret keeper, your lover and your best friend. Isn’t this the way of it for a king’s queen, I mean.”
“Sì.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “You are my wife.”
“Being your wife means all those things?”
“It means my life.”
“All right.” I sighed, and the next words out of my mouth were spoken in, what I hoped, was proper Italian. “Massimo is hurting. You hurt him by not…stopping Rosaria from hurting his love, or so he feels.”
“He has spoken to you.”
My face pulled in. I hadn’t told him about my interaction with Massimo the night of the harvest celebration, but my husband was the next king of Italy—he had eyes and ears everywhere, and when it came to me, an intuition that was unmatched.
“Not about that,” I whispered.
“Tell me, what did my son have to say to you the night thecinghialewas sent after you.”
I should’ve known the interaction, not how Massimo had knocked into me, since there was no one else around, would make it back to my husband.
“Nothing. He said nothing to me. So there really wasn’t much to tell.”
“You did not tell me.”
“I want him to trust me,” I said.
“At the cost of your husband not trusting you.”
Sighing, I turned around and went back to the bed. I sat down, and our suitcases Rocco had set on top of the mattress slid down some. Even before I was pregnant, he refused to allow me to pick up anything heavy. He was really going to treat me like I was made of glass now that I was pregnant. All the signs were there.
I looked my husband in the eyes. “Do you trust me any less?”
“No,” came his automatic answer. “You are a healer, a woman of great love and faith, and family. You want to heal what is standing between my son and I.”
“I do. Your sons are a part of you. I know how it feels, Rocco, to feel like I don’t even belong with my parents. So, as your wife, a title that means all the things we spoke about, I’m going to give you an official piece of advice. Make peace with him. That way he can make peace with his life, attempt to salvage what he can—his relationship with the woman he loves, and if not her, his son.
“His brothers and the rest of his family too. Healing all seems to start with the fathers in this family. You’ll be a great leader, Rocco, but being an amazing father comes first. Your sons, your wife, our children…when all this is over, we’ll be who is left when the world moves on.”
He cleared his throat, and in a couple of long strides, came to stand before me. He stared down at me for a moment, and then took a knee in front of me, resting his head against my stomach. I slid my hands through his hair, feeling his warm, even breathing against my skin.
“You are the good in me,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around me. “You will protect my good.”
“I’ll always be,” I whispered back. “And I always will.”
He was talking about his sons and the children we’d have together when he saidyou’ll protect my good. His children would get the best parts of him, and our children would get the best parts of me too—even if we all struggled against the not-so-great parts our parents had handed down. It was up to us as parents to nurture those good parts and attempt to better the not so good ones.
His phone rang. He didn’t move. It continued to ring. When he didn’t answer, a knock came at our door. His eyes went to it, and I whispered, “Do you think something’s wrong?” My heart raced in a panic when I thought of Maggie Beautiful. I’d been waiting on any word about her visit to the doctor. Scarlett said she’d keep me in the loop.
Rocco rose to his full height and kissed me on the top of the head. While he went to answer the firm knock, I went back to packing. I disappeared inside of the bathroom for a moment, grabbing my curling iron.
The reflection in the mirror stopped me for a moment. The cut made me look more mature. It was short, shorter than my hair had ever been, and it waved around my head. The cut put more emphasis on my face, especially my eyes.
I wasn’t one to cave to pressure, but the new cut, new clothes, new skills…that was the version of me my husband’s world would see. I’d tried to be truthful about who I was, and I got booed because of it. I made my peace with knowing that, the next time I showed up, because I would, I wouldn’t be so open. I’d keep my eyes and nose up, shielding all I loved the most.
The rest of Italy, though? The small places we visited, the amazing food and people…those would be the sides where I’d keep my true self front and center.
I couldn’t replace Rosaria, and I wouldn’t even try. Why would I want to follow in her footsteps when my love was in an entirely different direction? Which was home with me.
