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“I love you,mio marito.”
“I know. I love you too.”
“Never stop saying those words to me, Salvatore. They keep my heart beating.”
“Youkeepmyheart beating.”
Epilogue
six years later
I had my espresso on the balcony, looking at the sky. My head was still groggy after last night, but the coffee helped. When the cup was left empty I decided it was time to go back in the bedroom and ask Grazia to forgive me.
My wife was in front of the vanity mirror, dressed in a silky, short night gown with puffy feathers on the rims that was driving me insane. She was putting lotion on her hands and watching me in the mirror. The shadow of a smile I could spot on her lips gave me courage to come closer and hug her body from behind.
“I’m sorry,Tesoro.”
“You’re sorry? For what?” Trick question. “You’re sorry that you didn’t come home all night, or that you got drunk like a pig and Garon and Pietro had to drag you home? Which one is it, my dear husband?”
“All of that.” I kissed the curve of her neck, on that spot that always made her weak in the knees. “The guys wanted to celebrate and they had reasons. Giovani and I had to show face.”
“Yes, but I talked to Rebecca. Giovani didn’t celebrate enough to crawl up the stairs on all fours.”
“I had a little too much bourbon, Grazi, but I had a good reason. It was a good year. Between your brother and I, we cleaned over thirty-five million.” I wiggled my eyebrows at her. “We have a lot of money.”
“I don’t care about the money, Sasa. I care about my husband sleeping on his pillow next to me.”
I wanted to grovel more, but there was a loud bang on our bedroom door before it was pushed open and our daughter marched in like a general leading the troops. The only troop following her wasBiscotto[64], the stupid puppy her uncle Gaspino gave her and was now making my life hell.
“Mama. Let’s go. Let’s go now!” For a four year old, she was demanding. Just like her daddy.
She was dressed in a white blouse and a fluffy, pink tutu skirt around her waist. I melted, seeing how beautiful she looked in her small pointe shoes and with that chocolate bun on her head. She had Grazia’s eyes and grace and I loved seeing them together more than anything. My pride and joy – my daughter and my wife.
“I’ll get dressed and we can go in a minute,bambina.”
“Where are you two going, Giana?” I asked my baby daughter.
“Ballet class. Mama is teaching me today.”
Grazia’s ballet studio was only a few blocks down the street. We couldn’t find a building large enough for the school she wanted to open, so I built her one. I built her a whole damn sports center, with studios, and fitness classes, and music rooms, and show stages. My wife turned that into a money maker with her passion. She started teaching ballet classes to young girls and then expanded to a full ballet school with female personnel only, so her students could feel safe and comfortable.
Giana grew up next to her mother’s leg, watching class after class of girls learning to dance and she fell in love too. I lost both my girls to ballet.
“Baby girl, go downstairs and let Biscotto in the back yard. Mama will come in five minutes.”
“You promise it’s only five minutes?”
No. Once I had my hands on Grazia, time flew past us.
“I can promise if you give me a kiss.”
Giana flew into my arms like a little butterfly and kissed my cheek. Those little moments were everything. Grazia was right, none of us gave a shit about money when we had this treasure in our home.
When she left the room, I stared at the door, smiling.
“She’s perfect.” I whispered.
“She is.”
