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We walk until we reach my backyard and sit on the chaise lounge.
I plop my ass down next to her. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“I tucked Leia in, tucked Hayden in, and now I have to see what my other child is doing.”
“Not funny.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“And I didn’t ask you about your mood.”
“She’s . . .” I throw my head back. “Intriguing.”
“Intriguing is a good start.”
“On the one hand, I want to actually lock her inside so nothing can touch her, so she’ll be safe. On the other, I want her out and being brave.”
Alessandra leans her head on my shoulder. “You need to build a foundation of trust.”
“Go now, before you fall asleep and drool on my suit jacket.”
She punches me lightly on the arm and stands up. “I’ll give her a few days to settle in, then I’m coming to visit.”
“I’m surprised you can.”
“It’s a wonder we’ve been able to make Chiara wait.”
I nod and push myself up, going inside.
Light pours from the crack under the door of her gaming room. I follow it, incapable of bringing myself to go to my wing. I push the door open a crack. She’s so engrossed in the screen that she doesn’t notice me. She is in her element, and I feel like a bastard for having to drag her out of it, at least partially.
I close the door, and a thought takes hold once I am inside my room. She’s more courageous than I expected. Accepting things you can’t change with dignity is hard, especially since every molecule in our bodies yearns and fights for freedom.
I crash into bed.
Images of a car spinning over, of blood and empty eyes, the last words of my mother repeating endlessly on a loop in my head.
I wake up, sweat covering my naked chest. As my pulse steadies, I toss the sheet aside and go downstairs. When I flip the light switch on, I see Violet sitting at the table, sipping tea. She freezes, her cup suspended mid-air. Her eyes blink wide at my body. I’m wearing sweatpants, but if I had known I would find her here, I would have worn just boxers. I smile at the thought. Rattling her brings me incredible joy.
“Alone in the dark?” My voice snaps her out of her blatant perusal.
She swallows. “Darkness is not one of my fears, and I like the silence.”
“It’s four in the morning.”
“I played for over ten hours. At least.”
That can’t be healthy.
“One hour outside.”
Placing the cup down with more force than necessary, she huffs. “Not this again.”
I don’t have the mental space to argue with her. I prepare myself a cup of tea.
“Didn’t take you for the tea sort of guy,” she says.
