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‘I told the store not to supply him with whisky,’ Nico said to her.
‘There is home delivery now.’ Aurora shrugged. ‘Even your father has worked out the Internet. And there’s always Pino stopping by, or Francesca. You can’t stop him.’
‘I send money, but then I wonder…’
‘If you didn’t send it he would drink cheap wine instead,’ Aurora pointed out. ‘Come on, it’s time to get back. Supper will soon be ready.’
‘I need to speak with the doctor first.’
The news from the doctor was the same.
Geo needed to stop drinking and he needed a more comprehensive level of care—except there was no staff to provide it in Silibri.
‘I have spoken to the agency,’ Nico said to him. ‘And I am looking to purchase the house across the street. That way—’
‘You could purchase ten houses,’ the doctor interrupted. ‘No one wants to live here. The village is dying faster than your father.’
Why did Aurora choose to remain here?
Nico thought of long-ago evenings at the Messina dinner table. She would talk of her photography, and how she would pester the manager at the winery to change the labels on his wine. To rename, rebrand. She had passion and dreams—but they had been smothered by this village, like the smoke that blanketed the valley now.
‘Come and sit down,’ Bruno said as Nico walked into the Messina home. ‘Good food and family and my day is complete. Come now, Aurora.’
But Aurora did not join them at the table.
‘No, Pa, there will be food at the party and I have to get ready.’
‘And will there be firemen at this party?’ Bruno checked. And though he spoke to Aurora, he looked over to Nico.
‘I think they are a little too busy fighting fires.’ Aurora smiled sweetly as she left the room.
Nico’s gut tightened.
‘Aurora has a thing for one of the firefighters,’ Bruno said, and rolled his eyes. ‘Per favore, mangia, mangia, Nico. Come on—eat.’
The pasta, though delectable, tasted like ash in Nico’s mouth.
Worse still, he could hear the pipes groan as Aurora turned on the shower…
It was bliss to have the hot day and all the grime slide off her skin and to feel the dirt and grease being stripped from her hair. This morning she had risen before six, and had worked every minute since, and yet though she ached, Aurora was not tired.
She looked down at her skin, brown as nutmeg, and saw her fleshy stomach and full breasts and all too solid legs.
She was too much.
Too much skin and bum and boobs.
Too much attitude.
Although as it had turned out for Nico she was not enough. Never enough for him.
How, Aurora pondered as the water drenched her, could Nico manage to turn her on even from the kitchen table?
Last week she had kissed a firefighter, and all she had felt was the tickle of his beard, and all she had tasted was the garlic on his breath, and all she had smelled was the smoke in his hair.
There was something socleanabout Nico.
Even if his morals were filthy.
