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"Are you sure?"
"I don't like how frequently you travel to New York."
It's the first time he's complained about it. Well, not really. He always says he thinks I'm going to be gone too long. He gets downright grumpy before the annual month long visit I make in August.
With the exception of the last trimester of my pregnancy with Neri, I've been making four trips a year to see them since we got married. And he's never before told me I go to see my mom and brothers too often.
"I know going without sex for two weeks is a challenge for you…" I let my voice trail off teasingly as my heart squeezes.
I assume my husband remains celibate while I am out of town, but fidelity in a mafia marriage is not a given.
"I don't just miss sex,amate. I miss you."
My heart skips a beat. He calls mecara,darling. Notamate, beloved. It's a typical Italian endearment and doesn't necessarily mean he has feelings that he's never given voice to. Like love.
But it feels significant.
My knees wobble and I sit down on the bed with a thump.
"Don't you miss me when you are gone?" he asks sounding almost like a petulant child.
"You know I do."
"Do I?"
"What is this about, Raff?"
"If you missed me, you wouldn't leave Las Vegas so often and take our son with you."
Oh. This is about me taking Neri away.
"He enjoys his time with hisnonnaand uncles."
"I know he does."
"I'm sorry you miss our son, but if I left him here, he would spend more time with the nanny than you." Raff is a good father and way more present in Neri's life than I expected from his parents' example, but he is still a mafia underboss and busy CEO.
His hours away from our home exceed his hours here by many.
"I think it would be hard on Neri to be away from me for that long," I add.
"Of course, it would. He's a young boy. It is hard on me having you gone for a week and I am an adult."
"Now, you are just being dramatic. Hard on you?" I scoff.
"You find that difficult to believe?" he asks, his tone almost angry. "Maybe because it isnothard on you."
"Seriously, Raff, what is this about?"
"Do you remember who that tight pussy belongs to when you are in New York?"
"My body belongs to me," I assure him. Though we both know that's only part of the truth.
Idobelong to him. I only wish I was as confident that he truly belonged to me.
"What you are really asking is if I let another man touch me and that is insulting." If deep down, I am also just a little bit thrilled by his jealousy, I'm not admitting it out loud.
That's for sure.
