"Valentina."
"When I get home, don't be gentle."
I turn her around.
"I never am," I tell her.
She reaches up and kisses me again. "See you soon."
I watch them drive away, then head home to make arrangements for our honeymoon.
Because Valentina deserves a proper honeymoon.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Valentina
He won't tell me where we're going.
That's the first thing. The second thing is that there's a car waiting outside at five in the morning with two bags already packed, mine included, which means someone with access to our things made decisions about my wardrobe on my behalf.
Salvatore is standing beside the car in a white linen shirt, collar open, sleeves already rolled to his forearms. He looks like a man who has had exactly enough coffee and has decided today is going to go exactly the way he wants it to.
"You're not wearing black," I say. "Should I be worried?"
"Get in the car, Valentina."
"You packed my bag."
"Rosa packed your bag."
"That's not better."
The corner of his mouth lifts. "Get in the car."
I get in the car, holding onto my blanket knowing I'll be sleeping on the way to wherever it is we're going.
The drive is long enough that I fall asleep somewhere past the city limits, my head against the window, and when I wake the landscape has changed entirely.
No more buildings. No more traffic.
Just open road and the particular pale gold light that belongs to the coast.
"Where are we?" I ask, voice still thick with sleep.
"Almost there."
"Salvatore."
"Ten minutes."
I look at his profile. He's watching the road with that quality of stillness he has when he's thinking about something he hasn't decided to say yet. Not tense. Contained.
"Are you going to tell me anything?"
"In ten minutes," he says.
I settle back and watch the coastline appear through the trees.
