Page 93 of The Man with a Treasure

Her gorgeous eyes opened as she quietly replied, “Yes.”

“Then remember, he doesn’t have to be by your side for you to feel him.”

Her expression was so gentle and serene. “Like Faith.”

Deep inhale… “Yes, like Faith. Have faith he will come back to you.”

She exhaled. “Thank you, Sal.”

I don’t know if God is more present in some, or if it was simply her belief that made it feel so, but at times, Scarlett truly had an angelic aura to her.

She asked, “You miss him, too?”

“Scarlett, since I was a young boy, I can’t think of one day we ever spent apart. Even when his father was sick—”

She covered her mouth. “No.” She grabbed her belly. “He has passed, hasn’t he?”

I nodded, then tapped my chest so she would understand. “It hurt Angelo, deeply.”

Scarlett thought for a minute. “Maybe I can make him dinner to help call him back to us?”

What a beautiful soul. “I happen to think you can do anything you want.”

Scarlett may have been angelic, but when unsupervised, she was Hell on bare feet in the kitchen. When I had gone to piss out wine while we were working on a sauce, Scarlett became nervous that Angelo would return before it was done, so she turned up the heat.

Bubbles popped out of the little saucepan onto her hands, scaring her half to death. I quickly rinsed her hands in the sink to cool down her skin. Under the water, my fingers tenderly ran over her scarred wrists.

Scarlett noticed me and confessed, “They don’t look like the women’s hands do on TV.”

I eyed the broken plastic of the television, grateful Scarlett no longer could use it as her example of perfection. “Then those women are not as beautiful as you.”

She gulped. “Really?”

I dried her hands with a dishtowel. “Really.” I dabbed her scars. “These are marks of strength and perseverance. They are battle scars announcing victory.”

She peered down at her permanent marks. “Wow.” She looked at me. “Do you have any scars?”

I immediately thought of the one on my head from when I was unknowingly experiencing my final test to become a Suit. Now standing in that kitchen, it felt like centuries ago. “Yes, I do.” But I didn’t want to walk down memory lane. The only person I would keep seeing there was Angelo. And he had abandoned us. At least, that is what my wine-influenced brain was telling me. “How about you help me cook dinner?”

She eyed the stove as if it were a beast trying to kill her.

That caused a much-needed laugh. “Help me with the salad? I’ll cook the lasagna.”

Absolutely against Angelo’s orders, while we cooked, I spoke to Scarlett about her ‘fathers.’ After what she had seen on the TV, I believed there was no need to hold back. I explained how a father should never have sex with their child. I explained that the actors were making love and that sex should feel good. I wanted to vomit when she sounded so shocked, claiming sex was awful.

Maybe it was that horrendous belief, or all the wine, but I kissed her.

Telling her about how making love could make her feel, I kept thinking of Noemi and how she had made my body soar. How she made my heart full…

Now, I was missing Noemi and Angelo.

“Soar like a bird?” asked Scarlett.

In front of me had been an eager and beautiful woman, begging for just a taste.

That ended up being the second disaster in the kitchen.

My ego took a hit, but I was truly happy that Scarlett was already far too in love with Angelo to ever desire Sal Rossi. Nope, instead of appreciating my famous Italian kiss, Scarlett now wanted to experience her first glass of wine.