This is it. I’ve done it. I’m married.
Once the bath is ready, Maria comes out and signs again, asking if I need anything else. I sign back No, and she slips out.
I step out of my dress and relieve myself of everything else as I enter the bathroom. The water is hot, scented with lavender andsomething citrusy. I slide into it with a sigh. This is exactly how I like it. Heat that sinks into bone. Bubbles that rise just high enough. Silence that doesn’t pressure.
I busy myself with scrubbing, rinsing, and soaking. I try not to think about what comes next. But my mind goes there anyway. Our wedding night.
He'd said he wanted me. That he’d wait. But why? Why would someone like him want someone like me? When he could have women who speak, who hear, who know how to move through the world without stumbling over it.
I didn’t believe him at first. But that kiss… that kiss has made me start to wonder.
Maybe he has a defect kink. Maybe it’s my silence that draws him. Or my inexperience, my innocence that appeals to him. Perhaps he likes the power of it.
I close my eyes and throw my head back. Suddenly, I’m imagining him here. His hands on me, his mouth following the path of water over my skin. I imagine him lathering soap across my breasts, down my thighs, his hands slow and deliberate as they slither across my skin. I imagine him pulling me into his lap. Heat licks at my skin.
My breath hitches. I clench my legs together. I shake my head to clear the vivid imagery. No. I won’t do this. I won't think about what comes next.
I finish my bath and step out, toweling off quickly. I choose something plain to wear. Soft cotton. High neckline. Nothing that says take me. If he takes one look at how I'm modestly dressed, maybe he’ll change his mind.
I lie face up on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I think of my father. I’m glad he didn’t come. He would have glared at me the whole time anyway. He doesn’t deserve the right to give me away. He was never my father in the true sense of the word.
I think of my mother. She would’ve made today something beautiful. She died trying to give me a sibling. My father had insisted that she give him a child who is not broken. I was ten. God, I miss her every day. If she were alive, my life wouldn't be this much hell. But at least now, there's something new to look forward to.
I yawn again. Dio, I'm unbelievably tired. The ache in my limbs has finally come to lay claim. I don't resist as I let sleep take me.
Something rouses me. I wake, disoriented. I don’t know how much time has passed. It's dark. A lamp is lit somewhere. Have I slept through the whole afternoon?
A shadow flickers over me and I turn, startled. It's Giovanni. He's here, standing over me, staring at me with an unreadable expression. My eyes clear of sleep. Is he here to collect?
He looks fresh. Clean. Changed. He’s in a simple dark shirt and low-slung trousers. His shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled, and I catch a glimpse of… is that a tattoo? I lift my eyes to his. His hair is damp. His masculine scent clogs my nostrils. He looks deliciously like the kind of sin you want to dabble in.
He says something. I see his mouth move, but I don't hear him. My hearing aid isn't on. Did he say, “It's me?”
I blink up at him. He must have seen my confusion because he looks at my ear and realization crosses his features. He signs, It’s just me.
I nod. My body tingles with sudden awareness. Damn, he’s beautiful.
My throat tightens. Surely he’s here to claim his wedding night. I shift a little.
Sorry I woke you, he signs.
I don’t reply. I brace myself. If he's here to collect, he should get it done and over with.
But he doesn’t move. He signs again. I came to check on you. To get you for dinner.
I stare at him. What?
Are you hungry?
I shake my head. No.
His brows draw together. It tells me he doesn't like that. He signs again. I’ll have Maria bring dinner up. You need to eat.
Then he leans down. This is it. I tense.
He kisses my forehead, then ruffles my hair.
Goodnight, cara, he signs.
