The men, except for Cass, are all ready. They file out with no delay and Julian is the last to go. He gives me one final glance that’s probably meant to be encouraging but only makes my chest squeeze with fear.
He’s already gone when I finally gather the wits to rasp out the words, “I love you, Julian.”
How terrible that the first time I say those words he doesn’t even hear them. This is my fault. I’ve accused Julian of so much. I’m not entirely innocent either. I’ve held back, keeping my own feelings locked down rather than share them and risk rejection.
Cass Tempesta is staring at me. Even though there is so very much at stake right now with all four of his sons marching out to defend their home, sympathy still softens his eyes.
“I should have told him that sooner,” I say to Julian’s father.
He doesn’t disagree but he guides me into the hallway. “You’ll tell him later,” he says,
The voices of the other men are receding. I don’t know which way they went but Cass keeps his oversized gun handy while tensely steering me all the way to his study. The fire still crackles beneath Teresa’s portrait. Louisa is sitting in Cass’s brown leather armchair. Her posture tenses and she observes us with wide eyes like she’s wondering if we’ve lost our minds. Cass shuts the door and makes a beeline for his huge desk. He reaches underneath until he finds what he’s looking for and then points.
“In there,” he says as a section of wall separates.
Today I’m learning all kinds of secrets about the house I live in. There are hidden arsenals behind bookcases and now a concealed room built right into the wall of Cass’s study.
Inside the small room, he flicks a switch. This room is the size of a large closet and the walls are lined with the same wood paneling found in the study. A bench seat runs the length of the wall and doesn’t look very comfortable. There’s also a small refrigerator, a large safe that likely holds more weapons and a table with a small lamp.
“Do you have your phone?” he says.
I shake my head. “It’s up in my room. Dinner rules, remember?”
He breathes out a tiny laugh. “Right.” Then he pushes his chair into the safe room. Louisa, unwilling to move from her seat, comes along for the ride. “You’ll be more comfortable on this. If you need to open the door, press this red button on the left. But Cecilia?”
I’m struggling to focus. For a few seconds I don’t realize he’s waiting until he has my complete attention. “Yes?”
Julian’s father leans closer. “Do NOT open the fucking door unless it’s one of us. You hear?”
Crying would be the most pathetic thing I could do right now. I exhale and force my head to nod. “I understand.”
He backs up and pulls a pistol from the holster on his hip. “You don’t know how to shoot, do you?”
I look at the gun and notice it’s very similar to the one Julian taught me how to fire during our honeymoon picnic. There were no bullets in that gun. I’m sure there are bullets in this one. I can almost feel Julian’s lips on my neck, his hand under my skirt as I lifted the barrel and fired. Even though the chamber was empty I felt so good, so powerful. Or maybe I felt that way because Julian’s hands were on me.
What I’d give to return to that moment in time…
“I can manage,” I say.
He points the weapon down and shows me the loaded chamber. “Six shots. If you need to use them, don’t hesitate.”
The gun feels much heavier in my hand than the other one did. Bullets must weigh a lot.
“Got it,” I say.
He tries to smile. “Don’t worry, Cecilia. My angel is watching over you.”
I can hardly nod. I bite my lower lip to keep it from quivering.
With the utmost care, I set the gun down on the small table beside the lamp. Louisa allows me to sit on the armchair beside her and she promptly snuggles close, already purring. I keep my tears at bay until Julian’s father shuts the door. As a sob shakes me to the core, I cover my mouth with my hand in case this room isn’t soundproof.
That solitary cry is the only one I’ll allow to break through. I refuse to grieve. I insist on believing Julian will be back soon, just like he promised. Julian always keeps his promises.
I haven’t prayed in so many years. I forget where to start.
Spreading both palms over my belly doesn’t nearly cover the bulge. My left hand is bare, my rings left behind in their velvet box because my fingers were too swollen this morning. This feels like a bad omen now, as if I’ve severed a connection with Julian.
My babies can surely feel my level of distress and I breathe in and out, shutting my eyes, summoning calm. It’s not easy to come by here in the safe room while wearing a bulletproof vest with a loaded gun sitting nearby.
