front of her, played a few chords to remind his fingers how to move on the frets, and then he began to sing to her. No singing over another voice this time, it was just him and the guitar. He sang a few songs he’d written himself and when she clapped her hands, her eyes wide with glee, he felt a new pride start to warm its way through his chest.
He refilled their glasses while she gushed over his performance.
“I hate it that I’ll be the only person to ever hear those songs, Matteo. You have to record those somewhere. You really do.”
“Nah, I don’t have time for all that.” He waved her praise away and came back to sit down with her. He hit play on the sound system and let a new song play. “I have you, work, and you. That’s all I need.”
“Then do it for me. I’d love to be able to play that when I need to smile.” She leaned into him and he put his hand down on her thigh, just as a way to touch, not as a prelude to something else. Sometimes it was nice to just sit and talk to her.
“Would it make you smile when you’re sad, Marie? Really?” He looked over at her, serious for a moment.
“It would. That song was beautiful, Matteo. Lonely, but full of hope.” She turned her face away. “I think we both know about being lonely, don’t we?”
“I think so. You haven’t told me a lot about your life, but I can guess.” Matteo sipped carefully at his own drink. He wanted her to be the one that was smashed, he wanted to be there for her while she was.
“No, you can’t.” Her head rolled away as if her neck bones were made of liquid. She was getting there, then. She was on her fourth glass, though.
She began to talk then, to spill so many secrets that she’d never told him before. By the time she was done, he wanted to go back to Louisiana, resurrect her mother, and throttle her. Marie had fallen asleep on his lap, tears staining her cheeks, but at last, she’d got it out. He picked her up, carried her in his arms, and took her to bed. She’d mentioned a counselor at some point there, said something about a doctor appointment yesterday. Maybe it would be a good idea. From what she’d just told him, she needed to talk to someone with professional skills he didn’t have. He’d be right there for her, though, every step of the way.
24
Matteo kissed Marie goodbye and she went into the bathroom to get ready for her appointment. She’d set up a spa day with Trina, an attempt to relax, as suggested by the psychiatrist she’d seen a week after her doctor appointment.
The woman was nice, had listened to what Marie had to say on their first appointment, and had suggested they start slow. She wanted Marie to practice some relaxation techniques and do everything she could to relax. Matteo had agreed, which surprised her.
She’d woken up the morning, after he’d decided to get her drunk, with a slight hangover and the distinct memory of spending hours telling him about her childhood. He was supportive and stayed home the next day to make sure she was alright. They’d spent some time talking about it all throughout the day and had come to the decision, together, that counseling would be good for her.
After a shower and drying her hair, she got dressed in casual clothes: a light-blue skirt that billowed softly around her knees and a white silk camisole. The clothes wouldn’t be on her for long so she went for something she could slip off and on easily. A pair of flat sandals replaced the flip flops she was used to wearing.
For a moment she stared down at her feet. The sandals were a camel brown leather with gold and turquoise beads along the panel that stretched across her feet and around the strap that ran around her ankle to close on the outside with a gold clasp. When it was warm in Louisiana, she’d pull out her old flip flops and carry on. Sometimes, she’d splurge a little and buy a new pair at the closest discount store.
Now, she could afford fancy sandals and that fact took her breath away. She didn’t have to wear flip flops, even though she was used to wearing them, but she could if she wanted