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Her swallow is audible on the other end of the line.
Sabella and Sophie step out of the room just as I swipe the button to end the call.
“Trouble?” Sabella asks, placing a hand on Sophie’s shoulder.
I look at my wife and my niece. I love both of them but each differently. My affection for Sophie runs deep. I love her like I loved Adeline and my mother. I understand that kind of attachment. I have a framework for classifying it.
My love for Sabella is unlike anything I’ve experienced. It flows through my veins and beats in my heart. It’s as if we’re the same being living in two bodies. Without her, I’ll be like that plant in the broken pot. If she’s ever ripped away from me, I’ll shrivel up and die. Not physically. But in every way that matters. That’s why I need her. It goes deeper than sex. I can’t do this without her. I can’t handle the kids alone. I can’t live like before when she was nothing but a concept and a vague idea in my head. And yes, a part of me fucking resents her for reducing me to a man who’s no longer whole.
But I don’t tell her this. I can’t make myself that vulnerable. I have too many people depending on me now—the children, employees, and family.
Instead, I say, “I’ll tell you later.”
ChapterEleven
Sabella
After dinner, Angelo takes me aside and brings me up to speed with the trouble Johan caused at school.
“Are you sure he’s guilty?” I ask. “Maybe the other kid fabricated the story.” I can’t help but consider the possibility after the scene I saw in Roch’s classroom.
“I confronted Johan.” Angelo’s gaze is wary. “He admitted he’s guilty. It doesn’t surprise me.” He chuckles. “When I first went to see the old man in the valley, Johan tried to sell me weed.”
The concern keeps me awake when I go to bed. I lie in the dark, worrying about Johan’s future. I’m still afraid that Angelo will send them to a boarding school. I hope Johan understands how serious the situation is.
As the minutes roll into hours, I expect Angelo to open the door and get into bed beside me. I left him working on his laptop in the kitchen when I came upstairs for my shower, but it’s almost two in the morning.
Unable to sleep, I get up to go make a cup of chamomile tea. On the landing, I pause. Angelo is fast asleep on the sofa. His ankles are crossed and his hands are folded over his stomach. He’s still dressed in the smart slacks and button-down shirt in which he arrived this morning. He only removed his shoes, which stand next to the sofa.
With his head slightly turned to the side, he almost appears innocent, but at a closer look, he wears his habitual stern, harsh expression even in his sleep. He’s a man in control of his life as well as the lives of the people he’s responsible for. He never lets his guard down, not even in his dreams. Yet a weary tension seems to weigh on his body. Under the designer cut of his well-fitting clothes, the set of his hard, steel-like muscles is tense. Despite his brutal masculinity, there’s something vulnerable to him in his unconscious state, something that reminds me of the man I once loved.
The sight threatens to soften my heart, but I harden that treacherous organ and turn back to the room with my bitter resolve intact.
Saturday passes without any incidents.I spend as much time as I can with Sophie, trying to involve her brothers in some of our games. As it turns out, they’re more interested in hunting for treasures in the forest. Heidi cooks big, scrumptious meals that we enjoy in the sun on the veranda. During mealtimes, she and the kids act as buffers between Angelo and me, forcing us to remain civil.
Angelo doesn’t come up to bed on Saturday night either. It should make me glad. Instead, it bothers me. I became addicted to our passionate, uncontrollable physical bonding. Sex turned into an outlet for my frustration and violent feelings. But it’s best like this. We shouldn’t have wild, angry sex with the kids under the same roof.
When Sunday dawns, I’m anxious. I’m going to miss the kids. I don’t look forward to saying goodbye. I try to make the best of the time we have left without spoiling it with the dark mood creeping up on me.
In the late afternoon, the dreaded moment arrives when they prepare to leave.
I use the opportunity when Angelo and Heidi carry the bags to the car to pull Johan aside. “Mr. Russo told me about the marijuana.”
He looks guilty for all of two seconds before he snaps his teeth together and obstinance hardens his face. “So what?”
“You’re a clever and industrious young man. I’d hate to see you get expelled and throw a chance at building a good future for yourself away. I really don’t want Mr. Russo to send you to a boarding school in a different city.”
“Don’t worry,” he says with a wry smile. “It was my last batch anyway. We grew it in the valley, and we’re not going back there, are we?”
“I hope not.”
Sophie runs up to hug me. “Sabella! Sabella! Angelo says we have to go.”
Johan makes as if to leave.
“By the way,” I say, “I like your new haircut. It suits you.”
He blushes to the roots of his hair. Muttering, “Cheers. See ya,” under his breath, he spins around and sprints to the car.
