Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
EPILOGUE
MARIALENA
Six months later
I stand on the cliff that overlooks the rolling waters below The Castle and breathe in the familiar salt air. The air here feels different from the air outside our residence in Tampa. It’s cooler, more pungent, and when the wind whips over the water, it bites my cheeks.
“So that’s where you used to hide.” Salvatore’s deep voice rumbles in my ear as his hands span my waist. He jerks his chin at the perfect little dip below the line of visibility, where Mario and I used to hide to smoke.
“Yup. If you stand at the Pavilion outside The Castle, you can’t see anything below the edge here,” I explain.
“Isn’t that convenient,” he says with a knowing twinkle in his eye. When I first met him, I would never have believed that a man like him was capable of having a twinkle in his eye, but he so does.
“Salvatore,” I say, drawing out each syllable. I know exactly what that look means. “Nonna’s party’s in ten minutes. You know that!”
Nonna’s eightieth birthday only comes once, and this is a special one. It’s the first time all her grandchildren are married, and the first time Salvatore and I have come to visit The Castle as a married couple. After several months of business, travel, and events where he proudly showed me off as his new wife, we finally made it back up to New England.
“Like I need more than ten minutes?” he says, as his hands tighten on my waist. I know that insistent touch all too well. Before I know what he’s doing, he’s got me by the hand and we’re walking down the all-too-familiar steps that lead to my hiding spot.
“Mario could find us,” I say, but my protests are growing weaker.
“Mario and Gloria went into town with Orlando to get the pastries. You knew that.” His voice takes on a stern edge that makes my body heat deliciously. “Do I need to punish you for trying to deceive me?”
My skirt’s hiked up around my waist and he’s doing all sorts of wicked things to me. “No,” I pant. “I’m an angel, you know that.”
“You were an angel this morning,” he says, his voice warm with approval. My cheeks flush hot at the memory. “That I know. But now…”
I spread my legs and grind against him. “Now I’m your little slut,” I supply.
The wicked chuckle he gives me tells me he very much appreciates this response and approves. “That’s right.”
The fact that someone could find us sounds like such a silly notion now as my need for him thwarts all rationale. My head drops to his shoulder. I moan. My eyes flutter closed as the hint of a breeze kisses my skin, a wave crashes on the shore, and the first spasm of pleasure crests over me. “Shh,” he whispers in my ear. “We wouldn’t want anyone to hear you.”
My reply is a garbled mess of words. I slump against him, spent.
“Hey! Marialena! Salvatore! Where are you?”
I quickly right myself and glare at him, but the wicked glint in his eye tells me he’s anything but repentant. My body, still thrumming and heated, tells me it doesn’t regret anything either.
“What, baby?” he whispers as he pats my belly. “Do you think they forgot about the fact you’re pregnant?”
I shake my head and wag my finger at him because I’m not really sure how to come back from that.
“We’re here!” I shout, just as Rosa looks over the edge.
“Ah, should’ve known. Of course you’d show your husband your favorite hiding spot. Careful, Lena, Mario may never forgive you.” She grins. “Nonna’s already hit the wine hard and is ready to party, you don’t want to miss this.”
Salvatore takes me by the hand, and we follow Rosa back to The Castle. Romeo’s had spotlights installed, so The Castle’s lit up like a thing of beauty, majestic and timeless. I imagine I’m a fairy-tale princess. My eyes grow a little misty.
“You alright?” Salvatore asks, as I brush the back of my hand across my eyes.
“Eh, pregnancy hormones,” I say with a laugh. My heart is full. I love having the man that I love here, in my home, where I first learned the meaning of the word love.
“I love you,” I say tremulously.
He gives my hand a little squeeze. “And I love you.”
Uproarious laughter greets us when we enter the dining room. Romeo and Nonna are dancing to a lively tune piped in through overhead speakers. He can hardly keep up with her. With her ruddy cheeks and bright eyes, she’s shed decades here in this dining room.
“I feel like I’m in Italy,” Salvatore says. “A tune from the old country.”
“Here, drink this,” Mario says, plying him with a tall glass of wine. “Then you’ll really feel as if you’re there. You can drink two, one for you and one for Lena.”