At the entrance to the dungeon, she shivers. She spent time down there, once.
A lifetime ago.
I take her all the way to the walk-in pantry beside the kitchen. I find one of the reusable zipper freezer bags hanging on a hook inside the pantry door.
“Oh, wow,” she breathes. “I haven’t been this far along the tour yet. This is one epic pantry!” She runs her fingers along boxes of pasta and strings of garlic, then lovingly touches large, bulbous bottles of golden-green olive oil.
“You haven’t cooked for me since we were in Tuscany,” I admonish. “We’ll have to fix that. For now, help me pack.” I unzip the bag and slide a small bag of rustic crackers inside.
“A picnic?” she asks, her eyes as bright as a child’s on Christmas Day. “Oh, I love a picnic.”
“You love so many things,” I say. “And I love that about you.”
Love, love, love, a word we throw around so casually sometimes. A word I’ll take with me tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that…
I once told myself that it didn’t matter what I’ve done. Our past is in the past. If I can forgive what she’s done to my family, maybe she can forgive what I’ve done.
I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to her.
“I’ve got it,” she says excitedly. “Let me play around in the fridge a bit?” She glances around the doorway and peeks in. “Looks like they’re using the stove but the center island’s vacant. I won’t be in anybody’s way.”
“Baby, you belong here as much as anyone else does. You’re not in anybody’s way.”
I don’t expect the way her eyes brighten, or the way her lips turn upward in a smile. “Thank you for that.” She draws in a breath then cracks her knuckles. “They’ll be gone for hours, won’t they?”
I nod. “Hours, babe.”
I take a seat on one of the stools and watch my future bride work her magic.
CHAPTER 12
Elise
We sit by the stone wall of The Castle that overlooks the ocean and feast on everything.
I found a loaf of French bread and made little sandwiches with thick slices of turkey breast, gouda, and avocado. I wrapped them in foil and made a small salad with greens and bottled dressing I nestled into a little mason jar, then sliced ripe strawberries for dessert. I squeal with delight when Tavi pulls out foil-wrapped chocolates he brought home from Italy. We eat them together while looking out over the sunset.
When our bellies are full, we sit back and look out over the water. The sun is lower in the sky, and the balmy weather’s grown only a little colder. Still, I shiver when a wind kicks up over the water.
The waves crash on the shore in front of us, then drag right back out to sea again. The salt air tingles my nose.
“Tavi.”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Why don’t we move to Tuscany?” I ask, imagining my favorite place on the other side of that water. “Have you ever thought of that?”
Tavi looks out over the water. Thoughtful. Meditative. “Not sure that would work. I’m needed here. Doesn’t mean it can’t hurt to ask, though. See what Romeo thinks. You know I love Tuscany, too.”
I’m not so sure I want to be apart from Angelina, either. And I have to reluctantly admit, I like his family, too. “I know what you mean. But maybe for part of the year? Like snowbirds going to Florida, you and I could spread our wings and fly to Tuscany.” I close my eyes and imagine the warm kiss of wind on my cheeks, and the vibrant green of the Tuscan landscape around us. Though Tavi’s well-loved in his family, he came alive in Tuscany.
“And you’ve got the business here, too,” he reminds me with a serious nod.
“Eh.” I shrug. “I could make inventory purchases remotely.”
He nods. “You could.”
We sit silently for long minutes, and the tide begins to go out to sea.
“Elise, I’ve made a decision.”
“Yeah? You’ll let me name our children Gwendolyn or Lancelot after all?”
“Uh, no.”
“Dammit. Then what?”
“It’s time to take out that tracker.”
“Oh. Oh.”
The decision feels monumental. I tell myself that it was insane of him to even put this in, but Ottavio Rossi doesn’t play by the nice guy rules. “Uh. So. How does that get done?”
“I brought what we need.”
I blink in surprise. I want this out, but the prospect of having it removed scares me.
Still, I don’t want to go to the altar tomorrow with this in me. It feels like a chain.
“I can take it out, baby,” he says softly. “I can take it out right now.”
My heart beats a little faster. “Will it hurt?”
He shrugs. “Little bit. Could use a little something to numb the area…”
Then I remember, this pretty little dress is functional. It has pockets, and I just happen to have contraband tucked into one of them.
I take out the joint Marialena gave me and show it to him.
“Would this help?”
“Where’d you get that?”
“Do I have to tell you?” I wince. I don’t wanna rat his sister out.
He growls, but doesn’t make me tell him. He knows Santo and Rosa smoke, and probably figures Marialena does, too.
“I don’t like messing with my head,” he protests.
“I know,” I respond, twirling it in my fingers. “It’s the control thing, isn’t it?”
“Mmm.”
“Maybe sometimes it’s good to let go of a little control. Gets tiring, doesn’t it, Tavi?”
It’s exactly what he’ll be doing when he takes this out of my arm.
He doesn’t respond for a minute. The waves crashing below us have an almost lulling effect. I sigh.
“Give it to me, Elise.”
I half expect him to toss it out to the waves below, but he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter. The flame flares in the darkness and soon, the sweet, acrid smell fills the air around us.
“Just a little,” he says, handing it to me. “When I tell you to stop, stop.”
He holds the end of the lit joint out to me but keeps it still between his fingers. I take a slow drag, the smoke filling my lungs, then release it, letting it dissipate around me. I nestle back against him and he takes it back. Behind me, a little flare of light tells me he took a drag of his own.
We go on like that for silent minutes.
“Letting go?” I ask. The lines of the world around me fade a little, as if painted by watercolor, and the tension I felt in my chest begins to soften. I’m feeling oddly sentimental. I smile to myself.
“Yeah, baby,” he says. His voice sounds softer than it was before. “Sometimes maybe it is good to let go of a little control. A little, anyway.” I look over at him, surprised to find the joint to his lips is hot as fuck. “So to take that tracker out, I have to cut you. But it’s a tiny incision. And where it is, no one will even see the mark when you wear the wedding dress.”
I sit up straighter and hold my arm out to him. “Do it. Please?”