Things were changing. I could feel it.
So, when I woke the next morning, alone but content, I happily jumped out of bed. I brushed my teeth then slid into the shower, humming to a song I’d forgotten the words to. I dressed quickly, slipping on a pair of cream-colored satin panties and a matching bra before working the distressed jeans over my legs and buttoning up the sheer white blouse. I tied my hair into a high ponytail, applied ChapStick to my kiss swollen lips then exited the bathroom with a small smile that had a shorter lifespan than a fly.
All of the drawers were open. All of them lay empty. And movement in the hall garnered my attention. Marco was carrying two suitcases down the stairs and I fell into a full-fledged panic.
What the fuck?
My throat tightened and my knees shook. I lifted a hand to the wall and spoke through a croak, “What is this?”
Everything was going so well. I didn’t understand.
Careful not to fall head first down the stairs, I called after Marco, “What is this? Where am I going?”
No.
He’s finally doing it. You goddamn fool. A few kisses and you fell for it.
No, no, no.
He played you, and you fell for him.
Shit. It was happening. He was finally getting rid of me.
My eyes widened in fear. “What did I do?” But Marco just kept walking. “Talk to me. What did I do?” I watched him take the suitcases down to the foyer and, without stopping, he moved to walk them right out of the front door. My heart was in my throat and I was on the verge of tears when I cried out a rattled, “Marco, please. What did Ido?”
Without a second thought, I rushed down what was left of the stairs and followed him out. And when I saw where Marco was taking my suitcases, barefoot, I skidded to a halt.
“What’s all the commotion?” Ettore stood on the path, peering down at me with a knowing look. A single brow rose when he uttered with feigned disinterest, “I thought you wanted to come home.”
Oh my God.
My heartbeat thumped in my chest.
Oh myGod.
My lips trembled as I took off, running at him. I jumped and he caught me, holding me to him. I wrapped my legs around his middle, threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tight as I sniffled loudly. Ettore pulled back to look at me. He cupped my cheek, brought his face to mine and kissed me lovingly through my tears. Overwhelmed, I both laughed and cried, and when we separated, Tor used his free hand to gently wipe away the wetness from my cheeks.
“Ready to go?” he asked quietly.
It burst out of me when I replied through a hitching cry, “Yeah.”
My husband didn’t smile openly, but his eyes did. Like a baby koala, he carried me as he walked. I rested my head on his shoulder, indulgently, as he brought me around to the passenger seat of the car. I allowed him to lower me to the ground and help me in. He buckled me up, closed the door and returned to the driver’s side. He slipped inside, started the car and backed out of the driveway.
And I took one last look at my prison.
Marco stood on the porch, with his arms crossed over his chest, looking every bit the badass. But I could have sworn there was a whisper of a smile on his lips.
When I lifted my hand in lazy wave, he returned it.
And with a final glance, a thought crossed my mind. Although the house was beautiful, I vowed right then that I would die before I ever came back to Northport.
Chapter17
An entire bowl of bullshit
Ettore
I hadto admit that watching Vittoria being stared down by my twelve-year-old daughter as they sat on opposite ends of the table was rather entertaining. The boys had sat down long enough to re-introduce themselves to their step-mother, and then they were out. But Ella… Ella wanted Vittoria to suffer. And she started by asking a cold, “Where are your shoes?”