“I tuoi occhi sono meravigliosi.” Your eyes are wonderful.
She leans over and kisses me gently before rolling back over.
“I am happy that you are mine,” she sighs.
“And I am lucky that you are mine.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, and before long, she’s breathing deeply and evenly. She twitches every once in a while, but I just pull her closer. I’ve never been a big cuddler, but part of me is afraid that I’m going to wake up in the morning and this will have all been a dream.
I didn’t want this. I figured it would happen eventually, but I didn’t want an arranged marriage. I probably cursed the idea a thousand times in my life. So getting lucky enough to land someone as precious as Aurora? I’ve no idea what I did to deserve that karma.
But I’m exhausted as well, and I’m comfortable knowing that she’s wrapped safely in my arms. So I let myself fall asleep, hoping that when I wake up in the morning, she’s still there with me.
CHAPTER TEN
I wake in the morning when the sun starts shining in my eyes and catch her watching me. She smiles.
“Buongiorno,” she whispers.
She’s tucked tightly into the side of my body, her head lying on my bicep and her leg thrown over my thigh. Her hair is somehow still as straight as it was last night, not a single wavy or kink from sleeping, but that soft lilac scent still surrounds her.
“Good morning,” I say, kissing her forehead. “They’re going to want to come in here soon.”
She groans and rolls away from me and out of bed.
“I better get dressed, then. Stupid traditions!” she cries out to the ceiling, throwing her arms in the air. I watch her ass sway as she makes her way to the closet, mumbling low enough that I can’t hear exactly what she’s saying. But from the tone of her voice, I’m guessing it’s nothing good.
I throw back the sheets and open my suitcase that they kindly left for me in the corner. Shooting off a quick text to the group chat, I get dressed and make my way to the bathroom and brush my teeth and try to fix my hair. Key word being try. After sleeping on it wet, it doesn’t really want to settle into its proper place.
She comes out of the closet when I go back into the room, and she’s dressed in a little pale blue sundress with white flowers on it. She’s braiding her hair over her shoulder when she sees me. Reaching up to mess with my hair, she laughs when I playfully swat her away.
“Your hair looks like it has been licked by a cow!” As she walks past me, I spank her hard on her ass, and she yelps, turning around with shocked but interested eyes. Making a mental note of that reaction for later, I wink at her and go to the closet to get the soiled comforter.
Just as I’m spreading it out on the bed, there’s a knock at the door. I wait for Aurora to come to me before I even think of opening the door. Even though I don’t like this, it’s far more humiliating for her. Especially since she actually was a virgin. What woman wants her entire family, plus her new husband’s family, to come in and inspect their marital bed for bloodstains?
It’s a stupid tradition, one that dates back too far to really even know.
“Buongiorno! Buongiorno!” Everyone shouts as they come into the bedroom, kissing us on our cheeks and pulling us into their arms. Aurora is bright red as person after person makes some sort of joke at her expense.
“If you could all make your way over to inspect the bed, we would like to have some breakfast together and get our day started,” I interrupt.
Aurora leans her whole body into me and smiles at me while everyone looks at me like I’ve just spat in their food. Her father looks me over for a minute with a stern expression before he breaks out in a laugh.
“Americani!” he cries out, laughing and clapping his hands together before taking my face between them. “You will make a good husband for my daughter.”
I nod, and then they’re off, surrounding the bed and pointing at the bloodstain in the middle of it. It’s mentioned under their breath how we couldn’t wait long enough to even get under the covers, and I feel Aurora tense.
There’s a little more that’s supposed to happen here, but I’m about done with how embarrassed and uncomfortable Aurora is. It’s my job to make sure she’s happy, and right now, they aren’t letting me do my job.
“Come on,” I whisper in her ear, pulling her toward the door and sneaking out before they can turn around and get us.
She grabs my hand and leads me quickly through the hallways and down the stairs. It feels like we’re headed back in the direction of the kitchen, and once we get close to where the wedding was yesterday, I realize I’m right.
“I would like to show you around,” she says as we round a corner. “If you want, the chef will make us a picnic basket and we can eat breakfast in the groves?”
“I’d love that,” I tell her, grabbing her face for a quick kiss before making our way into the kitchen.
I hang back while she talks to the chef, asking her for this and that around the kitchen. They build quite the feast together, shoving it all neatly into a wicker basket that the chef hands to me. I smile at her and thank her while Aurora grabs a bottle of champagne and what looks to be fresh orange juice.
“Is that from your grove?” I ask her when she places two glasses in the already too full basket.
“Lo è, amore mio.” It is, my love. “I thought you might like to try some.”
She grabs a pair of sunglasses from a drawer and slips on a pair of sandals that have been left next to the door. An umbrella is leaning against the wall, and she grabs that as well.
“They know that I’m always running out of the house like a cat with its tail on fire,” she explains as we walk into the early morning sun. She pops open her umbrella and pushes the sunglasses up her nose. “And I got tired of constantly running around this stupidly big house looking for my umbrella and sunglasses. So when they realized that I was not going to be organized enough to keep track of them, they started making sure there was always one of each next to every door.”
“I assume your skin burns easily. Are your eyes more sensitive to light as well because of the albinism?” I ask her gently. I want to know more about her, but I don’t want her to think it’s because I’m disgusted by her. Quite the opposite.
“They are.”
“And you mentioned poor eyesight? Is that because of the albinism, or did you just lose the genetic lottery?” I smile at her, and I’m rewarded again with her musical laughter.
“The albinism,” she answers. “It affects a lot more than people think. My eyes will actually constantly…” She pauses, searching for the right word in English for what she’s trying to say. “Vibrate?” she asks. “Like, move back and forth quickly.” She gestures with her hands.
“Vibrate would work,” I agree. “I noticed it a bit last night, but it doesn’t seem to be that bad.”
“It isn’t for others. I don’t think other people notice it as much as I do, but then again, they don’t have to put eyeliner on when their eyes are moving under their eyelids.” Her hands are moving as she explains, her gestures frustrated. “It is annoying!”