“We’re just going back for Pisolino and our things, right?”
He laughed. “Sì.If I do not take you back soon, I will have to chase after you.”
I laughed. “When we rise to heaven, we’ll do it together.”
“There is no other way, Amora.You are the heart in my chest. The air in my lungs. The very blood in my veins. There is no me without you.”
I breathed out. “I could get used to this, Rocco Fausti, for the rest of my life.”
“My life’s work is to make you comfortable, but to never take for granted what we share—my hope is that my words of love will continue to shock you down to the soul of your heart. I will make you feel for the rest of your life, just as you have done for me,Vita mia.”
I turned to face him, my back hitting the door. “Because that’s what happened to you…you stopped feeling.”
“This world found a way to kill me—I was dead inside. Now.” He lifted my hand and inhaled the spot over my pulse. “Now I feel everything. Your love resuscitated me, and I am a man brought back from the edge of death. I am experiencing life for the first time. It has never felt so good in my lungs, in my heart, in my veins.”
I completely understood what he was telling me. The world had found a weak spot inside of my husband, through his vulnerability made by a lack of love, and was attempting to squeeze the life from his heart. It almost did. And then we found each other, and life was beautiful.
We’d saved each other.
I brought his hand to my mouth and kissed over his pulse. Then we looked at each other and grinned again.
We were only a few hours away from the estate in Tuscany, and it felt like endless miles. I couldn’t wait to get back to the villa in the clouds with Pisolino in hand. As soon as Rocco parked andopened my door, I was off. It pleased him how excited I was, and he even laughed when I told him to load up Apple Bottom. She could take the weight of all my luggage without an issue.
Even though Rocco ordered some of his men to assist with the haul, he personally saw to my things. He loaded them up, and in such a core way, it felt like exactly what we were, two newlyweds who couldn’t wait to get started, a black cat with green eyes our third.
As soon as we were back toNel Cielo, I changed into one of my husband’s old shirts, one he seemed to wear while working with the grapes, tied it at the waist, and paired it with a pair of stretchy shorts. I stuck my hair in a ponytail, wrapping a scarf around my head to keep my bangs back.
And…life began as we began to work on our home together. Rocco and I redid the wooden floors, painted the walls fresh new colors, and selected new tiles for the bathrooms and wherever we decided to add it.
Nel Cielowas rustic with touches of elegance, and we wanted to keep it that way. We wanted the wooden beams to keep their aged appeal, while the stucco walls and frescoes enhanced their solid appearance. The walls would keep their earthly color palettes while we updated them with fresh coats of paints. Sage, creamy white, golden ochre, and even forest green for Rocco’s home office. I wanted to incorporate wrought iron details, since they reminded me of New Orleans, and Rocco loved this idea, along with my idea for all the candle placements I wanted to warm up our home and make it more romantic.
Even Pisolino had his own space, a nook that looked out over the property, with his own fuzzy bed. He was already loving traversing the land, making a nuisance of himself with the donkeys who lived on the property. One day he’d get used to them, and them him, but…he enjoyed stalking them.
I started to give them all names, and my husband laughed when he realized I was naming them Doc, Grumpy, Happy… and when I said Sneezy and Wheezy, he really lost it. He lost it even more when I began to sing “Dominick the Donkey (The Italian Christmas Donkey)”, heehaws and all.
Pisolino gave Rocco a narrow stare and took off. He didn’t bother the donkeys after that. Maybe he figured a more dangerous cat was on the prowl, and he might get him if he didn’t leave them alone.
Rocco had hired men to complete the bigger jobs, including all the tile work. That was one of my favorite parts of the redo/refresh. I loved discussing all the different patterns with Rocco and what we both envisioned for the look and feel of our home.
While we were changingNel Cielotogether, growing closer—Rocco making his peppery pear and honey dish for me on the regular—the world outside our window was changing too. It was grape harvesting season, or as Rocco called it,La Vendemmia. It wasn’t only a time to collect the grapes, but to celebrate the bounty the land had given and show thanks. It was a mixture of work and celebrations.
BetweenLa Vendemmiaand the house renovation, and my actual birthday, which we spent at home, where Rocco gave me an opal that fit in my jugular notch, it seemed like we had no time to spare, though I was cherishing every moment of my new life in Piemonte creating a home for Rocco and I—a home we could both see us raising a family in, growing old in, living in forever.
Even thoughNel Cielowelcomed us in right away, I still wanted to take my time with each room. Allow it to get to know me as much as I was getting to know it.Nel Cielowas habitable, the kitchen and bathrooms worked, and Rocco and I both agreed the rest would work itself out in time.
Time.
I sighed.
On an evening when my husband was busy with the harvest, I was taking my time cleaning all the antique furniture in my writing room. I wanted to take a moment to do this before the important, traditional, and final grape harvesting celebration we were hosting.
In the meantime, every day, at midday, all the workers came together forpranzo di Vendemmia, where long wooden tables were set out for the communal meal. Local dishes were spread out on these tables, the workers enjoying them with wine, and there was always a lot of laughter rising to our windows. I oversaw two of them, and I thought I did well, but I wanted to know more about local fare and how I could honor the cooks that came before me. Make sure I was doing the dishes of this region justice. Sure, maybe my way of cooking said dishes might vary, but at the core—I wanted my hands to work in the traditional ways of the past.
Scarlett and Brando were coming by the next day to see the progress we were making, and since I’d be planning the main celebration, I had a feeling Scarlett was either coming over for moral support, or to help me if I asked for it. My sister and brother-in-law had been over a few times, both helping, but I noticed that the family was keeping their distance, and when I broached the subject with Rocco, he had shrugged and said…
“They are giving us time.”
“Time to be alone?”
