Benjamin lied to us.”
He nods. “That’s what I’m thinking. But we’ll keep digging. In the meantime, this shipment isn’t going to take care of itself. Shall we get to it?”
He lights another cigarette as he stands. I step forward, grab it, and toss it onto the ground. “You want to give yourself cancer,” I growl, “then do it when I’m not around.”
He laughs. “Okay, Mama. Perdonami. Let’s go.”
We head out back to the car.
26
Hazel
These past few days have been surreal and cool in all the best possible ways. Ever since Carlo told me he didn’t want to keep me prisoner anymore, I’ve been able to leave the mansion whenever I want—with guards, if I choose, which I always do—and it’s like there’s something different about us. We’re closer. Things are easier. Without that big old sword of Damocles hanging over us, it’s like we can finally be a normal couple. Well, normal for us, anyway.
We’ve been eating dinner together every night. And now, when we have sex, Carlo will sleep next to me unless he has to bail because of work. I’m even sort of teaching him how to make a soufflé. I say sort of because so far he’s nuked every single one, but still. It’s the thought that counts, right?
“I’m thinking about culinary school,” I say one night as we’re intertwined in bed, sweaty from lovemaking. “I’m self-taught, y’know. I never got the chance to learn from the pros. I’ve learned lots from Alda. But it might be good. Especially if I want to open this restaurant one day.”
He kisses me on the forehead in that way that has just become so him. “That sounds perfect.”
Even Lucille notices a change in me. One morning during our Skype sessions, she tosses her head sassily and says, “Okay, either you got a man or you pregnant. Which one is it?”
I hope she can’t see the look of pale dread that falls over my face. “The first one,” I lie, masking it with a smile. “How could you tell?”
Lucille tuts. “You all shiny. Enamorada. You in love, girl.”
After the call, I shut off Skype and fill out the post-lesson report, but there’s a pit in my belly. That’s the one downside to this new turn in our relationship. I still haven’t told him about the baby—or about me, who I really am. I’m scared it will ruin everything.
The baby, maybe we could survive that. But my real name? My real past?
I shiver at the thought. I just don’t know what to do. But can you build a relationship on lies?
It turns out I’m pretty darn good at pushing things from my mind to deal with later. I spend a lot of time in my studio, painting in fits of frenzy, but now they’re bright, vibrant pieces, some still surreal, but others landscapes of gorgeous lakes I find on my phone.
This afternoon, as I paint, I hear Carlo walk in behind me. I can tell it’s him just from the way his footsteps creak on the floorboards. He makes a distinctive sound, oh-so-Carlo, that I’d know anywhere.
“If you’re thinking about jumping out to try and scare me,” I tell him without looking backwards, “you better ask yourself how much you value your life.”
He grinds out a laugh as he stalks up behind me. His arms loop around my belly, reminding me of what I need to confess, and he rests his chin on my shoulder in a way that would’ve seemed crazy weeks ago. Now, the intimacy feels natural.
“This is beautiful.”
I nod at the unfinished valley. “It’s not done yet.”
“Who said I was talking about the painting?”
I gag. “Oh, God, I’m choking on cheesiness.”
He tickles me and I leap to my feet, running around the studio until we’re both flecked with paint. Then he grabs my shoulders and shoves me up against the wall. Our bodies press close together, fusing. Our kiss is like coming home.
I love him. I actually think I love him.
I haven’t said it yet, though. I’m the queen of not saying really important things. Who I am. Where I’m from. What is living inside of me in this very moment.
He presses his lips to my cheek, tracing up to my forehead. “Come to Sole Nero with me tonight,” he whispers. “We’ll fuck in the booth again, but this time in the raised one above the dance floor. We’ll be able to hear them all on the other side of the door. We’ll fuck until we can’t stand up