Making love is not something he does.
“I’m not fucking you out here.”
Apparently, sex is too tame a word for him as well.
“That’s fine. We can do it later.”
“Merda, Gia. What is this?” He tears away from me and keeps walking up the path to the house. “Three weeks ago, you hated me. I was your kidnapper and forced you into marriage. I fucked your virginity from you, and now you’re throwing yourself at me? And I thought I was the fucked up one.”
“If I didn’t know how much you were hurting, I’d be offended.”
Stone spins around and squeezes my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “I don’t want or need your pity fucks.”
“No, you don’t. What you do need is a friend.” His fingers loosen. “And I could use one too.”
He drops his hands and heads back to the house, this time not as fast. We walk in silence. When we reached the patio, it’s set up with two place settings, a mason jar of wildflowers in the middle.
“Maria is happy to have us both back from our honeymoon. You’re gonna want to erase that ugly scowl or she’ll think you have second thoughts about marrying me.”
She appears on the patio with a glass pitcher of ice water. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat right away or shower first.”
“We walked the last mile and are plenty cooled down. I’m ready to eat one of those cinnamon rolls now.”
“I’m not hungry,” Stone says.
“Your wife made cinnamon rolls last night, sir. They’re quite good.”
“You made them?”
“Don’t act so surprised. I’m full of many talents.” His eyebrow quirks. A good sign. “Okay, so maybe this isn’t a talent yet. Maria is an excellent teacher. I made the bread we’ll be having with dinner as well. Garlic rosemary focaccia.”
Maria sets the water on the table and goes back inside.
“Why is she giving you cooking lessons? I pay her good money to cook for me. For us.”
“Because I’m bored. I need something to do. You work all day, and I’m not used to sitting around being a pampered princess. Two years is a long time to do nothing.” I sit, hoping he will join me.
I bite back my smile when he takes the chair across from me.
“What is it you’d like to do?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been waitressing for so long and don’t have a university degree. My private tutors made sure I had the finest education in English, mathematics, and sciences, but I’ve never been given the opportunity to think about a career.”
Stone pours our waters, which we both guzzle, then he pours our coffee as if we’ve been having breakfasts together for years.
“If you hadn’t left with your mother, what would you have studied? You said you and your mother had visited universities.”
“I have no idea. I lived a sheltered life. I read a lot of classic literature, but I can’t imagine a career with it. I cruised through calculus but have no desire to be a mathematician.”
“What did you do when you weren’t studying?”
“I snuck in romance novels and fantasized about boys.”
Stone chokes on his coffee. I cover my mouth and laugh. “It’s true. The only time I even saw boys my age was at gala events, and those were boys who were dragged by their families, or arrogant narcissists who were only interested in me because of my family’s money.”
“I would have been one of those arrogant narcissists. I am one of those arrogant narcissists.”
“Truth.” I sip my coffee and smile again when he frowns. “When I was little, I enjoyed being in the kitchen with mama and Teresa, our cook. I don’t remember recipes, but I remember baking cookies and cakes.”