You are the warm blood in my veins.
You are my wife.
You are my life.
There has never been a me without you. Not who I was meant to be.
You are who my heart longed for my entire life.
I longed to give and receive love—you made this possible. The only woman who was powerful enough to do this.
You were made for me and I for you.
La mia parola è buona come il mio sangue. I would bleed myself dry for you.
You are the most beautiful woman my eyes have ever seen.
“Your body is calling to mine in our secret language, a sacred language only the two of us can understand…” He lifted my hand and brought it to his mouth, breathing me in deeply, as if my blood was the bouquet of one of his finest wines.
I would’ve been afraid of this period ending, but my husband spoke the truth directly to my heart. He would love me this way for the rest of our lives.
Even more.
Even longer.
And rarely did I think about our age difference. But…he was older than me, and what I thought about when the age differencecame to me was how it felt unfair to me that we didn’t have the time we missed.
In that moment, though, I pushed it aside, as everyone at the table began to talk about the baby and how excited they all were. Everyone was guessing girl or boy, and Ermanno even asked the wait staff for a pen and paper to write everyone’s guesses down.
My husband drank his wine and massaged my neck, and I could tell the entire situation pleased him.
When Rocco wore that look, I noticed Massimo watching him more intently, almost as a young man would study his father while he worked with tools or fixed a car. Maybe because Rocco had never been that content before, that relaxed in his own skin. Occasionally, their eyes would meet. Massimo didn’t look away right away, but he’d move his stare first.
We were having such a lovely time, I almost didn’t want to see it end, but one thing about having Rocco Fausti to myself…the nights were ours alone.
On the walk back to our chalet, he had his arm wrapped around my neck, his warm body helping to keep me warm, and he pulled me even closer, my body tilting into his, whispering in my ear, “I remember my wife mentioning climbing me earlier.”
I laughed. “You have an amazing memory, my husband, because when we get home, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.You.”
We stopped walking and turned toward each other. Crazed snow flurries danced between our bodies, while millions of stars burned cold above our heads. Our breaths purled, and the scent of spiced bourbon, sweet wine, my husband’s rich cologne, my perfume, silver firs (an earthy pine smell), and ice seemed frozen in the thin air. The wind howled as it passed in a strong gust, pushing against us, but we held steady.
My husband was like the towering mountain in the distance, blocking all that could harm me.
A slow smile spread on my husband’s face, and a much faster one on mine, when a chalet nearby began playing music from a wraparound balcony. “You Make Me Feel So Young,” sung by Frank Sinatra. Nonna loved Dino, but sometimes she’d put it down to Ol’ Blue Eyes. I gasped, then laughed, when Rocco took me by the hand and turned me out. He almost rocked our bodies together for a moment, before he swung me out again and we started dancing.
He was singing the tune to me, and honestly…Ol’ Blue Eyes, who?
From a direction nearby, a howl went up.
Usually, my husband would’ve pulled me closer to him, taken a protective stance, but…his eyes were narrowed in the direction of the woods on the other side of the chalets. The woods led up to the mountain and the trees, and fauna grew on a slope.
“Is that…some kind of animal?” I whispered.
“Sì,” my husband said, smoke purling from his mouth. “An animal known as Romeo Fausti, myfratello.”
“I’m not sure…that sounded so real.”
Rocco cleared his throat and sang another line of the song.
