“Promise?”
“Promise.”
And he keeps it. Five minutes later, we’re walking back outside hand in hand. When Lorenzo makes a joke about how long we were gone, Matteo just pulls me closer and kisses my temple.
And now, I don’t know what the hell I am supposed to do or say when it’s clear that I am falling in love with my husband!
Chapter Six
Sofia
“Sofia… Sofia!”
A light tap on my arm has me jolting and my eyes snapping upward. I blink, a little disoriented as I take in my surroundings. Linen tablecloths, half-eaten plates, and the concerned faces of my sisters and cousins. They’re all staring at me with a range of expressions, from raised eyebrows to curved lips to concerned eyes. I flush when I realize that I wasn’t paying much attention to them.
“Should we be concerned?” Elena asks with a careful smile. “You’ve been spacing out a lot lately.”
“Isn’t that kind of her thing?” one of the twins asks with a smile, but there is a hint of concern in her voice.
"I'm fine, guys," I say with a smile, reaching for my glass of water and lifting it to my lips only to find it empty. I set it back on the table before raising my head to find someone who'll get me a fresh bottle. “Where’d the waiter go?”
“Have mine,” Gia says, uncapping her bottle of water and pouring it into my glass. I don't dare look at them as I drink.
"Okay, something is definitely wrong with you," Elena says, reaching for my free hand and clasping it. "You would tellus if something's the matter, right?" she pushes, but the truth is, I don't even know what's wrong with me. “Sofia?”
"It's Matteo," I blurt, uncertain what I can and cannot share with my sisters. None of them are married or have a boyfriend. Would they understand something that even I cannot?
“What about Matteo?” Elena asks.
“I just don't know what to make of him," I say honestly. "One second, I think I know him, and the next, he feels like a complete stranger."
Three weeks of marriage, and he’s still a puzzle I can’t quite solve. Every evening, he comes home for dinner—makes time for me, asks about my day, tells me about his work. He’s attentive, protective, and affectionate, even. But then he’s gone before I wake, leaving only notes and cold sheets. He hired a driver without asking, orders from my favorite restaurants, makes love to me like I’m precious—but does he love me?
I expected marriage to be cold and transactional, like my parents’. Instead, Matteo is... more. But is it enough? Is this care, or is it something deeper?
There is heat and affection when he looks at me, but those are the only things I can ever read from him. I know he cares, as he does with everyone else close to him, but…
Does he love me?
For days, I have driven myself to madness trying to figure out if Matteo feels more than just lust for me.
“He’s changed,” Gia’s quiet voice pulls my focus back to the present. “I talk to his brother, Dante, sometimes. We met at the wedding reception.” She quickly adds that last bit when I raise an eyebrow at her statement. “What? He was nice to me atthe wedding, and besides, we were seated at the same table and found out that we have things in common. We’ve just… kept in touch.”
There is a slight blush on her cheeks that makes me want to tease her for it, but I find myself focusing on her first statement. "What do you mean, Matteo has changed?"
Gia seems relieved that no one asks her about her friendship with Matteo’s brother. “So Dante told me that he leaves work early every day—”
“But he’s always late,” I cut in. “He comes home by seven most nights, just in time for a late dinner.”
“”Exactly,” Gia says, leaning forward. Dante told me that before you, Matteo practically lived in his office. He would leave way past midnight, and sometimes, he wouldn’t even go home at all, but since he married you, he’s been trying his best to make it home early. He doesn't travel out of state anymore. Instead, he gives the jobs that require an overnight stay to his brothers.” She paused to take a sip of her water. “Dante told me that Matteo doesn’t like when anyone talks about you, not even in jest. He’s fiercely protective of you, Sofia.”
Gia’s words send my heart racing, but I’m afraid to hope.
Still, a memory from last week’s family event slips in when one of Matteo’s brothers, Lorenzo, joked about how pretty I looked and how he was going to steal me from his brother if he dropped his guard. The look on Matteo’s face that day had been murderous, and the tension around the table spiked. I was shocked when Matteo threatened Lorenzo with his life if he ever looked at me as anything but his sister-in-law. I wanted to believe that his words were spoken in jest, but I saw his eyes and knew that he meant every single word of it. It wasn’t untilLeonardo intervened that things went back to normal, but not completely.
That night, Matteo made love to me like a man with one sole focus, marking every inch of my body with love bites. If someone didn't know I was married by the shiny diamond ring on my finger, then those marks on my neck were evidence enough; I had to wear a scarf to work for days.
But does possessiveness equal love? My father is possessive of my mother, treats her like a prized possession, and there’s no love there. Just ownership.
