"I'm your bodyguard, Frankie. Many would try to hurt you to get at Carlo. I won't treat you like a child if you don't give me reason to, but lunch at home is safer and easier for me to protect you both. Next time, I'll make arrangements so we can go wherever you ladies wish, okay?"
Sighing, I know arguing is useless on this front. "Fine. You called me Frankie."
"Did I? I beg your pardon, Mrs. Vicini."
I roll my eyes at him, and he smirks.
***
Hours later, Aurora and I are on the sofa, looking at her wedding photos. "Faro, you look grumpy even in these," I comment. "Your dress was gorgeous."
"Thanks. There are generally only two occasions when my husband is not grumpy," Aurora says, snickering.
"Do tell," I pry, gleefully.
"You've both had enough to drink," my bodyguard grumbles.
Aurora lifts an eyebrow and purposefully pours us more wine. "I'll pay for that later," she admits when Faro steps out onto the terrace, cursing.
My good humor stutters, thinking of my father. "He doesn't hurt you, does he?"
"Never. He saved me, remember?"
Relieved, I nod. Over chicken scallopini, tiramisu and a lovely crisp white wine, Aurora and I have spent the afternoon bonding over terrible fathers and past trauma. Not the happiest of childhoods but we survived them and found ourselves married to very protective men.
"I'm glad we did this," I tell her sincerely when she passes back my drink.
"Me, too," she agrees, and we clink glasses.
When my husband arrives at last, Aurora is snoozing peacefully, her shoulder resting against mine while my head bobs. "Francesca?"
I press my finger to my lips and make an exaggerated shushing noise. Thankfully, Aurora keeps snoozing.
"Your wife is a bad influence," Faro tells him, stepping back inside.
"Watch it, Warden. Snitches get stitches." Both men's jaws drop, and it's suddenly the funniest thing ever to me.
"See what I mean?" Faro huffs as I'm giggling like a loon.
"Your wife is older than mine," Carlo argues, obviously more amused than anything.
Even Faro doesn't seem angry when he lifts Aurora off the sofa and tells me he'll see me tomorrow. "Can your wife come over to play again soon?" I cheekily ask as Carlo sits down and pulls me into his lap.
"Like I'd ever tell Rory no," Faro mutters.
My head is spinning from the wine, but I can feel Carlo's chest vibrating with suppressed laughter as they leave.
***
“This is more like it," Bianca Vicini declares, her fingers sinking into the tray of lotion a few days later. At fourteen, she reminds me a great deal of Sofia back then, and a momentary wistfulness strikes me.
"Tell me you didn't have fun earlier," I challenge.
"Oh, I did. Mother, I think we should get one of those box gardens at home… for Giulia."
Fiorella starts tapping on her phone at her oldest daughter's suggestion, always happy to buy, buy, buy. She had a manicure yesterday, but I'm pleased she agreed to join us.
Anna nudges Giulia's foot where she sits beside her. "How long until something blooms?" she asks so that Giulia can read her lips since their hands are occupied.
