“Indeed.” I guided them to the exit. “Davide’s restaurant is not far away. We can meet there.”
I pulled the door open, smiling at the sound of my wife chattering about paint colors and how she might go about constructing another wall. She would certainly not be doing that alone, but her enthusiasm was addictive. As I came to close it behind Francesco, I pulled on the handle to click it shut, and the glass panes shattered around my hand.
Sicily and Francesco gaped for a moment before they both burst into laughter that seemed to make even the shattered glass catch the sunlight.
“Yeah… It needs some work,” Francesco said, tugging on his neck.
“Some?”I echoed, shaking the glass off. “Sicily has an affinity for residing in buildings without adequately locked doors. I will fix it.”
She rose on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to the corner of my lips. “I know you will.”
The estate agentwas sitting on a table in the darkest corner of Davide’s restaurant. She was young with dark hair, dressed finely and expensively, but did not appear to fit in well within the casual elegance of my territory.
Francesco led us forward, shaking her hand and then pulling my wife into the forefront and introducing her and the project ashers.
My jaw began to ache, and it took me a moment to understand that I was smiling so widely that it was causing physical pain. I had not smiled this way in years, ten to be precise, but it was only natural that the woman I loved was the one to cause it.
The woman I loved.
Admitting those words, that claim on her, was simple within my own internal systems. All I was capable of doing was loving her; all my brain functioned on was her, but out there, beyondme, the world could take that away. It could tell me that I did not feel, or that I was defective and could not experience love.
That she was not mine.
“Let’s take a seat and talk through the paperwork,” the agent said with a smile that was as enthusiastic as my own. She flicked open the caps to two tall glass bottles of iced water, pouring a glass from both and handing us one each. “Do you have an idea of when you’d want the keys?”
My brow rose. “I do not believe keys to be necessary; I am able to walk right through the door. It is smashed to pieces.”
Francesco bit his lip beside me before clearing his throat and saying under his breath, “She obviously meant metaphorically.”
“That was not obvious to me,” I replied quietly.
Sicily sipped her water, ignoring us. “As soon as possible, please.”
The agent’s eyes lingered on me for a long, uncomfortable moment before turning to my wife. It was only when they hit Sicily and softened that I noticed she had been viewing me through her brows as one did in severe anger. Perhaps she did not understand me as I did not her metaphorical speech. It was a regular occurrence for people to dislike my social difficulties, but her evident anger toward me seemed extreme for somebody that had said only a few words to me.
The agent smiled as she continued to Sicily, “Have you discussed the cost?”
“The cost?” Sicily swallowed.
“Fifty million dollars for the building.”
She choked and her hand found mine against my thigh. Sicily required reassurance and assistance when it came to finances and legalities, but I did not provide this. She was intelligent and was capable of working out what was required.
“Sorry.” She tugged at her collar. “Could you repeat that?”
I knew that this would be new to her, but I had underestimated the levels of stress this would cause. Sicily was flushed pink, sweating from her temples, her knees shaking in the confines of her tight skirt.
Francesco shot me a glance, and though I was unused to reading people’s emotions by merely a glance, Francesco looked very similar to Adriano, or perhaps it was just that I cared about him enough to look closer.
“You okay, Sicily?” Francesco asked as she stood abruptly, coughing a little.
“Yeah, I just need some air.” She grimaced, stepping toward the front door. “It’s hot in here.”
It was not. The restaurant had the air conditioning units blasting.
I rose with her, but she shook her head, and I sat instantly, not truly understanding why I did not possess my own brain when she gave me an order.
I was Capo dei Capi, but not in my own life and certainly not in hers.
