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“No one,” he said. “But someday I’ll do what dad does and he’s a lot older than you, mom. So you don’t have to worry about when you get old because I’ll take care of you and make sure no one makes you cry or does mean things to you. Okay?”
My lips parted in surprise. He squared his skinny shoulders and I looked right into the iron wall in his blue-green eyes. There was no ice the way there was in his father’s gaze, but there was a stoic harshness that caught me by surprise.
“Marco, your father is fine,” I said.
“I know he is,” Marco said. “But just in case, you won’t have to do everything alone. Okay?”
The coldness of his stare shook me right to my core. Since his birth, I’d done my best to keep my oldest son from the kind of harm that had turned my husband into a man of ice, but clearly there was more to it than that. Maybe Lucien’s edge didn’t come from trauma, maybe it was just part of who he was as a man.
In the city, I’d spent more time with the boys. But here on the island, they followed Lucien around and soaked in his every word. I saw it in Marco right now, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and a belligerent look in his eyes.
“Your father is coming home,” I said firmly. “But thank you for being willing to step up and take responsibility. You’re a good son, but I don’t want your childhood to end just yet. So you don’t worry about me, okay?”
“I already do,” he said.
“Alright, you keep helping me with your brothers,” I said. “That’s what would really help me out. But if you feel overwhelmed or like you don’t have time for yourself, you tell me. Understood?”
He nodded. “I’m good, mom.”
My fingers tightened around my warm cup and I looked down at my white knuckles and the wedding band on my finger. My engagement ring was in a box upstairs. I rarely wore it anymore because I was always cooking or out in the garden.
“Hey,” said Marco. “I believed dad when he said he was coming back too. We just have to…give him some time to do his work stuff and he’ll get it figured out.”
I nodded, offering him a watery smile. “I love you, baby.”
He scowled, embarrassed by my term of endearment. I crossed the room and ruffled his dark hair and gave him a quick hug, which he returned before ducking away. He was almost a teenager and being hugged was his least favorite thing. I watched him slope away down the hall and the door banged shut.
Enza came over in the afternoon and we canned vegetables and talked about nothing. I wasn’t sure why we were canning food for the winter because if everything went well, we would be back in the city before then.
But I needed something to do that felt like reassurance so I planned for a future I hoped would never happen.
After dinner, I got the twins to sleep and left Marco and Hugo reading in their beds. Alone, I treaded down the hall to my empty bedroom and shut the door.
Silently, I moved through my evening routine. Scrubbing my face, braiding my hair, putting on my silk slip. I crossed another day out in the calender and went back to the bedroom where the open window looked out over a darkening sea.
Cool air moved through and fluttered the linen curtain. The lamp sat on the sill. Each morning I put it out and refilled it in anticipation of the evening. Now I knelt on the pillows on the windowseat and struck a match and lifted the glass lid. The wick crackled and sparked, lighting up with an orange glimmer. I turned the knob and put it on low and slid the cover down.
I sank into the window seat and rested my chin on the sill. Overhead, stars began appearing in the pale blue galaxy overhead. The air smelled clean and it reminded me of Lucien.
My brain began sorting through memories of him so I could replay my favorite in my head before I tried to sleep.
It was after he’d fucked up and given me a thousand white roses as an apology. We barely knew each other and the world had changed so quickly I was reeling with the impact. He was the boss now, Romano was freshly dead, and we were both working to discover our place in a new world.
He came to me early that night, which was unusual. The pressures of being the new boss kept him out late, but tonight he’d returned around six.
We ate together and I asked him about his day. He said all the right words in reply. Everything was fine, he was settling in. Yes, he was happy.
We went upstairs after and he joined me in the shower. I’d already washed my hair that day, but I didn’t protest when he unpinned it and let it tumble down my back. His scarred fingers rubbed my scalp in slow circles.
I moaned and he went harder than before, his cock brushing my ass.
“Do you want me?” I whispered.
“In bed,” he said.
He rinsed my hair and dried me, his eyes lowered. Not that it mattered. I couldn’t read him anyway.
In bed, he shifted over my body. The sheet was up over our waists and it caught around his leg, making him pause to tug it away impatiently. His jaw twitched.
