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Giulia’s eyes widened when we entered the cigar lounge, which rarely functioned as that—only when my father or business acquaintances insisted on cigars. The faded smell of smoke lingered, but it wasn’t very prominent because Sybil always worked her magic with air freshener.
In the beginning, I’d occasionally played pool by myself or with Faro, but even that seemed like forever ago. Work had filled every waking second of my days recently as I tried to stop people from talking about Gaia by creating new incidents to talk about. But my brutality in the job hardly drew the necessary attention to take away from the gossip surrounding my wife’s death—it was old news after all.
Giulia took everything in. Apart from the four armchairs in front of the fireplace, there was a professional pool table. Giulia rushed over to the cues and took one. “Show me?”
Fuck yes. I’d suffered sleepless nights with less entertaining things than teaching Giulia how to play pool.
Giulia was bent over the table, trying to hit the eight ball. Her tongue was wedged between her lips in concentration. My chest was pressed up to her back. I’d sent most of the balls into their respective pockets and again, my hand guided Giulia’s as we sent the eight ball flying into its hole. Giulia grinned, twisted her face, and pressed an enthusiastic kiss to my lips.
Simona’s cry blared from the speakers, reminding me that our life couldn’t only be filled with nights of pool and sex. I straightened, the weight of my responsibilities returning to my shoulders and with it the worry that this wouldn’t last. Giulia snatched up the baby monitor, and we headed up to Simona’s room.
As usual, Simona’s cries escalated with every passing moment, and the longer she cried the harder it would be to calm her down. Giulia turned on the lights and walked into the bedroom, but I waited in the doorway, wanting to see how she fared.
Giulia leaned over the crib and lifted my daughter up, cradling her to her chest. I was always the one who took her out of bed when she cried.
Simona fell silent and was staring up at my young wife. I waited for the inevitable outburst, an even worse crying fit than before, but Simona only let out a small cry. “Shh. You’re the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen.” And then Giulia bent down and kissed my daughter’s left cheek then the right. “With the cutest chubby cheeks that I can imagine.”
My heart thudded in my chest, an uneven staccato I could feel in my ears. I couldn’t move. Simona reached for Giulia’s bangs and tugged, but my wife only laughed and blew out air, sending her hair flying up, causing Simona’s eyes to widen. Then she giggled.
Simona giggled.
Giulia looked up and smiled, unguarded, happy, hopeful. I turned around and stalked out. “I’ll prepare the bottle,” I pressed. Even though I wished she wouldn’t, Giulia followed me downstairs. She watched me the entire time as I prepared the formula. I could feel her questions hovering in the room between us. She didn’t ask, only kept cooing at my daughter.
When the bottle was ready, I went over to her. She leaned into me. “Why don’t you feed her while I hold her?”
I stared into those blue eyes, feeling reminded of the way I felt when I stood on the dunes in front of my beach house, peering toward the ocean.
Cassio kept his promise. The next day he came home at dinnertime. To be honest, I was surprised. I hadn’t thought he’d keep his promise that he’d given with my naked body on top of him. Maybe I had my own trust issues to work through.
He looked surprised when he walked into the kitchen where we had dinner the last few days. Sybil stood from where she was seated, obviously unsure how to act. Elia stood as well and inclined his head before he grabbed his plate and headed through the backdoor, probably toward the guard house. He and I’d cleared things up in the morning after Cassio informed him that I knew what was going on. Elia had been awkward after that, obviously embarrassed, but I’d told him that he’d done his job and that I wasn’t angry. He couldn’t have told Cassio “no” after all.
“Why don’t you eat in the dining room?” he asked. Simona grinned when she spotted her dad. Her fingers and cheeks were smeared with smashed peas, but Cassio didn’t seem to mind. He walked up to her, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and barely escaped her dirty grabby hands before she could ruin his suit.
Daniele didn’t react in any way, only clutched the fork with the speared carrot slice in his little fist. For a moment, I caught the longing in his eyes, though. He wanted to be close to his dad, but something stopped him. Cassio turned to Daniele and kissed the top of his head before he walked up to me. Daniele watched us closely. Cassio touched my shoulder and squeezed lightly before he took a seat across from me. I couldn’t deny it. I was disappointed. I wished he’d have kissed me. Maybe he worried how Daniele would react. After all, his mom had been dead for only six months.
