Eva waved a hand toward the house. “You two go get ready! You don’t want to be late for your own party!”
We were, in fact, late. How could I be on time when my husband and I showered together, and, when he was all wet, my hands couldn’t stop touching him? It was somehow harder to keep my hands off him when we stepped out of the shower, but he had put so much work and detail into the party…
Rocco dried me off while I forced my mind to ignore the needs of my body. After I did my makeup and styled my hair—curling it and pulling it up on the sides—he helped me into a silky, plum-colored halter dress that fell to my feet.
“This is such a beautiful dress, Rocco,” I whispered as his hands caressed the fabric clinging to my body. “I love it.”
He was so pleased with how happy he made me, he only nodded, leaving a lingering kiss on my shoulder, before he dressed in a black button-up shirt and slacks. When we stepped out of the house together, Mia (Scarlett and Brando’s daughter) was there to take our picture. A band had set up, and music was floating miles down the bayou, it seemed. Even Luca and Maggie Beautiful had showed up, and when she asked the band if she could sing one, she serenaded the crowd with Billy Joel’s “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant.”
It made me cry, thinking of my grandparents and how much they had loved the song. Rocco kissed away my tears and then serenaded me with the birthday song in my ear. The band began to play “It’s My Birthday” as I cut the enormous cake, and all the guests sang along.
I had no idea who had taken my hand after the cake cutting, and when I realized it was Thandie, I screeched and pulled her in for a tight hug. “You came!” I shouted over the music.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” She raised her eyebrows at Rocco. “Besides, your husband said he’d come get me himself if I didn’t show up for his wife’s party.” She grinned at me.
My eyes widened when I noticed Giovanni,the guard whohad walked her out of the house in New Orleans. The way he wasstaring at her made me turn my eyes back to hers and lift my eyebrows.
She raised her hands. “Don’t ask!”
“All right, all right, all right,” I said. Snagging a drink from a passing server, I handed it to her.
“Your husband doesn’t miss details, does he?” She lifted the drink he had designed and named after me for the party.
I sensed Rocco’s grin from behind me, and I reached back to touch his thigh. “Not one!”
Rocco and I started laughing, and before I knew it, the entire party was on the “dance floor,” and we were celebrating into the night, the bayou reflecting all the music, laughter, and lights. Maggie Beautiful seemed especially lit up. She was getting down something fierce to “Dancing Queen.”
By the time Rocco made another speech in my honor, setting diamond and opal bracelets around my wrists as his gift to me, my face was flushed, as if I could feel the pulse of the leftover sun from that day. The cool tears streaking down my cheeks, mixed with the hot air, made me feel almost feverish. The dress was sticking to me from sweat. My heels had long ago been set to the side, and I was ready to get out and celebrate some more.
The party was only the icing on the cake. My husband had laughed so hard during our fishing trip, and after, it seemed to open something inside of him. I could feel him slowly becoming human—even if it was only for me. I wanted more of the man. I wanted to free him.
That was the true gift.
Who he was in Italy, I had accepted the moment I welcomed him into my life. But when it was only the two of us, he deserved to be more than his role in the family. I deserved that.
I wasn’t sure what time it was when I took a seat on my husband’s lap and took a breath with him. My hand was in his, our fingers intertwined, and he kept kissing my shoulder withice in his mouth. I shivered and rested the back of my head against his front. I looked up at the sky, tiny stars overcoming the darkness, and sighed.
“Besides the first time meeting you, and our wedding, this has been one of the best days of my life, Rocco,” I whispered. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d already spoken those same words to him. Always beginning with…Besides the first time meeting you, and our wedding…
“Bene.” He placed a lingering kiss on my shoulder. “I live to serve my wife—inside the bedroom and outside of it.”
I didn’t know how to respond to such a powerful statement, the truth in it, and all I could do was nod before I whispered, “The same for me. Together we are one, working for the good of our marriage.”
“It is in these moments in time, in the truth you speak to my heart, that I find a life I never knew existed. A life that gives me life.”
I squeezed his hand, and he lifted mine to his mouth, placing a kiss on each of my knuckles, before he set me on the chair and went to make me something to eat and refill my drink. He had made me a plate earlier, but he was always wanting me to eat. Or wanting to feed me. I wasn’t all that hungry, but I understood the motivation behind his actions and couldn’t refuse him.
A smile came to my face when I really took in the party in front of me. All of our closest family and friends…all together to celebrate me. A rush of warmth flooded my chest, and I began to tap my foot in tempo to the music, or maybe it was my own happiness. Especially when a brass band took over the stage and announced the second line parade. All the guests grabbed napkins, handkerchiefs, whatever they could find, and got in line to do the traditional dance. Weddings, birthdays, even funerals, this was a staple at most parties in New Orleans.
I picked up a napkin and waved it above my head. As soon as Rocco got back to the table, we’d join the line. Fireworks exploded over the bayou, and it made me breathless for a second, before a smile lit up my face as bright as the lights above my head.
“Daughter of the heart.”
The deep, Italian-accented voice seemed to come out of nowhere. I looked up to find my father-in-law staring down at me. I thought he was going to ask me to dance, which he usually did. At our wedding, he was one of the first, apart from my husband, to get me on the floor. He was a smooth dancer, and a much better singer, which was saying a lot. Even Scarlett said she had a hard time keeping up with his dance moves at times. And she was a pro.
But no.
The look on my father-in-law’s face stopped me cold.
