I nod because I can’t speak yet.
“Can you tell me?”
I shake my head, and he presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“If not me, then you’ll tell Marie.”
Anger flares within me, and I find my ability to speak. “You can’t command me to speak about what you think I should in therapy. I’m not your subordinate.”
Rather than get angry, because I never see this man as anything but calm and controlled, he smiles. “I know you’re not my subordinate. You’re my equal. My wife. My queen.”
“Then, as your queen, I’m telling you to back the hell off,” I snark, which makes his smile broaden.
“I’ve always loved your spine and fire,il mio sole.”
Rather than focus on the pleasure that the preening wench inside of me loves with his praise, I unload the questions that have been bothering me. “Why aren’t more people coming to our wedding tomorrow? Why are we doing it here?” And because I’m on a roll, I demand, “Why don’t you take me anywhere? Why don’t we entertain guests here?”
With each question, his smile dims. Oh, it’s still there, and maybe anyone else wouldn’t be able to tell that it’s now forced, but I can.
“What aren’t you telling me, Tommaso?”
“Many things, Gina,” he admits, making my stomach fall. “And all things I’ll tell you once you’re ready to hear them.”
“Stop treating me like I’ll break.” But it comes out as a choked whisper as I suddenly fight tears.
“I promise you, I’m not.” He wraps me in a tight embrace, and I spread my legs so he can get closer as I wrap my arms around him to hold on tight. “We just need to do this in steady drips.”
“I hate this.” I sniffle. “I hate not remembering, and I hate feeling like the other shoe is always about to drop.”
He stiffens almost imperceptibly, but I catch it.
“Tommaso…am I safe?”
He pulls back from me only as far as he needs to in order to look at me. “Always. I’ll never let anyone hurt you. Never.” His tone and the fierce protectiveness in his eyes emphasize his claim.
“Is that why you don’t take me anywhere?” I chew my bottom lip. “Is that why you don’t have anyone here other than your brother and best friend?”
His thumb runs over my lip, telling me without speaking to stop gnawing on it. “Partly.”
I should be frightened, or at least ask a hundred more questions. Maybe part of me knew this, or maybe I don’t ask more questions because I trust him to keep me safe.
“The biggest part, though,” he continues, “is that I don’t want to overwhelm and upset you.”
“But now that I’m healed—”
“You’re not completely recovered.”
“Mostly.” I roll my eyes, making him smirk and mutter, ‘Brat.’ “I want to start doing things. I can’t be a kept woman for the rest of my life.”
“Why not?” He looks insulted, and I laugh.
“Because. I had aspirations… Right?” It comes out as a question because I honestly don’t know.
He wraps his hand around my nape. “You wanted to travel and see the world. And I will show it to you. Just not yet.”
“Can I contact my friends from back at school?”
If I didn’t know better, I could swear panic flashes over his face, but I blink and it’s gone. “Soon,il mio sole. Now, I want you to get some sleep before tomorrow.”
