“Come now,” I gritted out, not wanting to release the frustration of the last few months on her. Ultimately, it was my fault for allowing this marriage, for thinking an eighteen-year-old girl could be a wife and mother. The idea that Giulia could become Gaia 2.0 turned my stomach over.
Giulia opened her mouth as if to say more, but I sent her a warning look. She’d need to learn when to shut up. She pursed her lips but remained quiet.
I led her to Daniele’s room first. I opened the door but didn’t turn the lights on. Daniele’s bed was empty.
“Where is he?” Giulia whispered, worried, as she crossed the room toward the bed.
My heart clenched. Turning on my heel, I walked out and strode down the corridor. Steps followed me, and Giulia appeared at my side.
“Cassio?”
I didn’t say anything—couldn’t.
The door to the last room on the left was ajar as I knew it would be. I pushed it open. The light spilling in illuminated Daniele’s small form on the huge king-sized bed. He was curled into himself on top of the comforter, half covered by his own blanket. I took a deep breath, hating the feeling of guilt wilting my insides. Anger toward Gaia was an emotion I could handle better.
I could feel Giulia’s eyes on me, the myriad of questions she wanted to ask. In the silence of the room even her unspoken words frustrated me. She took a few hesitant steps toward Daniele. My hand shot out, clamping down on her upper arm with more force than intended. She winced, looking up at me in a wounded way that had nothing to do with my hard grip. I released her at once then walked past her toward the bed. For a moment, I watched my son’s tear-stained face. He was only two, three in a month, an age when tears were still okay. Soon, they wouldn’t be anymore.
I bent down and carefully picked him up, trying not to wake him. Whenever I did, he’d squirm away and start crying again. He didn’t wake, however. His tiny head leaned against my chest as I cradled him against my body, the blanket swaddling him.
Giulia followed me without a word as I walked out of the bedroom and carried Daniele back to his own room. I put him down on his bed, covered him, then stroked his hair lightly. Feeling Giulia watching me from the doorway, I straightened and headed to her. She stepped back so I could close the door.
Giulia scanned my face, her expression filled with compassion. “Does he always come to your bedroom at night?”
“It’s not mine,” I pressed out. “It’s Gaia’s. I sleep in the master bedroom.”
“Oh.” Confusion showed on Giulia’s face. “You didn’t share a bedroom with your late wife?”
I gritted my teeth, trying to stifle my anger and worse, that heavy feeling of sadness. “No.” I headed to Simona’s room. Giulia hurried after me. She couldn’t let it drop. She was too curious. “Because you don’t want to share a bedroom?”
I glared. “No. Because Gaia didn’t want to share a bed with me. Now stop the questions.” My voice was harsh, threatening—a tone meant for soldiers that displeased me, definitely not for my wife.
I turned away from Giulia’s hurt expression. My grip on the handle was crushing as I shoved open the door. Not waiting for Giulia, I crossed the room and headed toward the crib. Simona slept soundly. Some of the darkness in my chest lifted, never all of it though. I couldn’t even remember a time when my thoughts hadn’t been dominated by darkness. I stroked my daughter’s chubby cheek with my thumb then leaned down and kissed her forehead. I was on the way out when Giulia spoke up.
“What about the baby monitor?”
I froze. She was right. Tonight was the first time Sybil or one of the maids wasn’t staying overnight. They had always taken the monitor during the night. Simona’s cries had still woken me, and she’d only settled down when I’d consoled her. Returning to the crib, I grabbed the monitor from the sideboard. When I stepped back into the corridor and closed the door, I said, “How did you know?”
Giulia shrugged. “I read about baby monitors, and when I saw it sitting there, I thought we needed it.” She bit her lip. “Have you never taken it with you before?”
I stared down at the small device. “No. Gaia or Sybil kept it at night...” I trailed off then held the monitor out to Giulia. She took it with a small frown.
“It should pick up the smallest sound, but unless Simona starts crying, you don’t need to get up.”
Giulia only nodded, not saying anything when I could tell she wanted to. I was glad for her silence. I nodded down the corridor. “Let’s go to bed. I need to get up early, and Simona will probably wake us a few times tonight.”