One Month Later
I'm late. I think I overslept. I'm already reaching for my phone to check the time when I realize something's different. The bed feels bigger. And nicer. And occupied by someone else?
My eyes fly open—
Nicolo.
Relief floods through me, and right behind it is a joy that's so, so deep it's almost surreal. We've been married eighteen years—he showed me the papers, the U.S. government has known I was Mrs. Sestini all along—but we've only been living as husband and wife for a month, and so this...
Nicolo sleeping next to me...
It takes getting used to, and—
“How long do you plan on staring at me,moglie mia?”
An embarrassed laugh escapes me, and I'm no longer surprised when I suddenly find myself lying on my back, and Nicolo looming over me.
“You've been awake all this time?”
“I've been waiting for you to do more than look at me,sì. But since you didn't—”
He covers my mouth in a kiss, my arms wrap automatically around his neck, and well, let's just say that we love each other so much that even in the shower, we're...loving each other.
It's just half past five when we head to his gym. Working out is still his thing, and now that I know about the world he was born in, all the danger, the evil, and the violence—it's become my thing, too.
We run on the treadmill, spot each other when doing weights, and help each other with our stretches.
After workout and breakfast, I change for work, and as I reach for my bag, I see my phone with its screen lit up. I have a new text message waiting from Odessa.
You know, I just remembered there's this girl in our school. She used to hate all the sweating and exercising stuff that she would go to the P.E. teacher every month and ask to be excused because she's about to have her period, has her period, and just had her period. Well, guess what? I heard from a very reliable source that girl now enjoys working out, and all because she's working out next to her husband these days, and she really enjoys the view. Do you know who I'm talking about?
I hitDeleteand change the subject as I type a reply to my friend.
What time is your flight? I'll make sure I'm not around to pick you up.
I drop my phone back into my bag and when I step out of the bedroom, the first thing I see is Nicolo, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he finishes washing our coffee mugs (he insisted!), and I just have to pause and stare.
It's something I can do all day long, honestly.
Admiring the view.
Not that I'm the girl Odessa's talking about.
Really.
Nicolo's drying his hands with the towel when he sees me at the end of the hallway. His lips curve, and my heart just races away. Totally normal thing these days, ever since my life as Mrs. Sestini began. If hearts could join marathons, mine would've been drowning in gold medals by now.
Nicolo takes my hand as we leave our apartment, and he doesn't let go, not even when we're in the limo, and not even when we reach the courthouse, and he still keeps holding my hand while gently overriding my objections about him not having to walk me to the courtroom.
Heads turn wherever we go. 5% may have to do with an intimidating Rollo walking behind us in unapologetic bodyguard mode, but the remaining 95% is everyone else doing the same thing I find myself doing every time he's around—
We're just admiring the view, you know?
Mr. Bell smiles when he sees me come in with my husband. “Good morning, Mr. Sestini, Mrs. Sestini.”
Nicolo smiles. “Good morning, Mr. Bell.” He's never said it out loud, but he has a soft spot for the old man, and it's why he anonymously gifted college scholarships for all of Mr. Bell's kids.
Linda comes in, and she beams upon seeing Nicolo. “Hi, Mr. Sestini.”