Page 118 of Secrets of the Brother
I may have the money for a large house with a full live-in staff, but I’d never really felt comfortable with that lifestyle and my short marriage to Renata had proved it. I had been miserable in that large house on the piazza. I preferred life at the villa, where the small household staff had their own homes on the vineyard property and were more like family than employees.
My real dream was to rebuild the cottage. I had already started construction. Since it would be a simple design and we were headed into the winter season at the winery, I would have it built in a very short time. Then I would move Bianca in, and we would be happy.
She would be happy. I would make sure of it.
I lifted the hand shower and rinsed her hair.
She tilted her head back as the spray turned her hair into a silky black waterfall down her back.
I set the hand shower back in its cradle and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her against my chest.
She sighed. “Tell me the truth, Enzo.”
Her voice was still a little hoarse from being exposed to the elements earlier.
I pressed my right cheek to the left side of her head. “Always, babygirl.”
She lifted her hands and rested them on my crossed arms where I held her. “Do you honestly think it’s possible for two people like us to have a happily ever after?”
I answered without hesitation. “Yes.”
She twisted to look up at me. “Truly?”
I looked down at her. Her full lips were a dark pink, bruised from my harsh kisses. “I love you too much to accept anything less for you.”
She turned back around.
I held her close. “You said the universe is telling us this won’t work. I don’t see it that way. Although the circumstances are tragic, I think the universe has given us a second chance, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to waste it.”
“I never really thought of it that way.”
She was quiet for some time. Then she spoke again. “I just can’t helpaspettare l'altro chiodo.It just seems wrong. Like we stepped through to the other side of the mirror and will pay a price.”
“It’s been a long day. You’re just tired.”
I wanted to tell her that she was wrong, but I had just promised not to lie to her.
I lifted her out of the tub and dried her off. Raising her arms, I slipped one of my softest, thinnest cashmere sweaters over her head. It reached down to her knees. She wandered into the bedroom as I drained the tub.
When I entered the bedroom, I caught her looking at one of the leather-bound volumes from my bookcase. Her brow was furrowed. “Where did you get these?”
I stood silently.
She removed a second volume and flipped it open.
Then a third. And a fourth. A fifth. A sixth.
Tossing them on the floor in her haste to open the next book.
She held a seventh volume open and crossed to me. “Answer me, Enzo. How do you have these?” She shook her head. “I threw all these away.”
I looked at the book of her carefully preserved sketch drawings. The volume she held was of her portraits. She had always been particularly good at portraits.
After Renata sprung her trap, things had unraveled very quickly.
Within days, my relationship with Bianca was over and two weeks later there were hints of Renata being pregnant.
Soon after, I learned Bianca was leaving for America.
