Epilogue 2
Alessio
Five Years Later
I watched on in quiet laughter as my wife acted out a scene from The Titanic with limited success.
I could never understand these parlour games the British indulged in at any sort of get-together.
Still, I must admit it was highly amusing to watch Millie attempt a one-person show of mimicking the act of flying from the front bow of an invisible ship.
Guesses were being shouted out, but none were correct, so with an exaggerated sigh, I stood and made my way to stand behind my wife. Our dog, Rigby, poked his head up from where it was resting on his paws. His black-and-white head tilted in curiosity as he watched his owners.
"Here, let me demonstrate. I don't know how you all haven't guessed it yet," I chided. My wife's acting was impeccable.
I pressed my body flush against her back, my fingers stroking her hip softly before I trailed them up her sides, purposely skimming her breasts. Rigby plopped his head back down, already bored. He was well used to our displays of affection.
"That isn't in the movie," she scolded in a laughing rebuke.
"She's talking!"
"Shush," I whispered in her ear.
Her arms were still stretched to the side, and I stroked my hands along the length of them before covering her much smaller ones with mine.
My fingers dipped between hers, and her breath hitched as she tightened her grip on my hands.
She turned her head and bumped her nose with mine; her lips parted in a tiny smirk.
"Do you trust me?" I drawled, mimicking Leonardo's line in the movie.
Her mouth quirked. "Yes," she breathlessly replied, just like Kate.
"This is highly inappropriate," Millie's aunt loudly complained.
"They cheated! You're not allowed to help her."
"Yes, well, thanks to that unnecessary display, we can all surmise that it is The Titanic." Millie's mother sniffed. "Nevertheless, you forfeit that round."
"Worth it." I laughed in her ear.
She lightly slapped my hand. "You're not even playing!" She huffed.
I guided Millie back to the settee, stopping to give Rigby a scratch behind his ears.
"Good boy," I praised before stepping over him to sit down. His tail flopped side to side a few times in an excited answer before his back relaxed, probably feeling lazy after the large pork chop he had devoured.
We rescued Rigby almost a year ago—an early Christmas present for my wife.
I knew she wanted to adopt, so I arranged with the shelter, where she previously volunteered, to help select the best dog for our lifestyle.
Since Millie graduated and I had cut back a lot at work, I felt confident we could give a pet our full attention.
Plus, I knew Millie really wanted a dog, and what my wife wanted, my wife got.
I didn't have much experience with dogs, but I was active and preferred one that loved the outdoors.
Rigby adored walks, and he lost his head whenever we took him back to Keating.
I was so sure I wasn't a dog person, but Rigby wormed his little head into my heart.
He even had our no-nonsense housekeeper wrapped around his little paw.
"I never took you as a Titanic fan," Millie teased as she collapsed next to me.
I pulled her closer, so her body was flush with mine before kissing the side of her head. "Unfortunately, Giada was obsessed with the movie growing up. It was forced upon me every time I came home."
"Hmm, Giada…sure."
A rumble of laughter carried up my chest as her gentle sigh of contentment warmed me. Her body relaxed against me, and she stifled a yawn.
"Tired?" I rubbed her thigh affectionately.
Her head bobbed. "I'm thankful that I have these two days off."
"I'm thankful too, amore mio."
The last two years had been busy, eventful, and stressful.
In her last year of university, Millie had to do rotations, which sometimes took her out of London.
Our schedules often didn't align, but instead of letting neglect and resentment split us apart, we both sat down to plan how we could stay connected.
I cut back a lot at work and only travelled within the UK.
I was home at a decent hour, and on the few occasions I was late, I always communicated that with her.
Of course, it can't have helped Millie's stress levels being married to a jealous and unreasonable man.
Admittedly, it had been difficult for me to let go of the whole Archie debacle; knowing she would be seeing him nearly everyday.
After failing to convince my stubborn wife to transfer to another veterinary school down south, I then insisted on driving her to and from her classes.
After all, I promised my wife that Gordon would no longer report her every movements back to me.
I trusted my wife implicitly; that was not the issue. It was him I did not trust.
I kept up my chauffeur duties for six months before an exasperated Millie ordered me to knock it off or she would walk. Although I knew my wife was not serious, the very idea that Mille would even think of leaving placed the fear of God within me, and I finally relented.
As the years went by and I delegated more at work, Millie's career was ramping up.
Now graduated, she was snapped up by one of the London veterinary clinics where she'd worked during her rotation.
She was in their graduate development program and was enjoying the pressure and the skill development.
I was immensely proud of her and bragged about my wife to anyone who would listen.
She worked hard, so I was relieved that she could take time off for Christmas. Unfortunately, we had to skip Sicily this year due to her schedule—I refused to go without her—but we promised to catch up with everyone in the new year once Millie was able to take a more extended holiday.
Christmas Day came and went, but by the time we made it back home, there was a surprise waiting for her.
"Giada, Katherine!" My wife exclaimed as she rushed to greet them. "What are you doing here?"
"It didn't feel right not being able to see you for the holidays," my father explained. His arm came around my shoulder, squeezing it. "Alessio felt the same and invited us over. Don't worry about keeping us entertained, we know you have to work."
"Besides, Alessio very generously agreed to be our tour guide," Katherine piped in.
"You studied at Oxford, Katherine," I dryly reminded her. "You're hardly a tourist."
The kids rushed in just then from being outdoors, their voices rising to a single loud, excited chatter. Even though it was cold outside, there was a little leftover sludge from a heavy snowfall we had before Christmas, and they all wanted to sink their fingers into it.
There were new additions to the crew now—Lucia was no longer the youngest. Two-year-old twin boys came giggling down the hallway, held upside down by their smiling father. A barking Rigby was jumping around their feet in excitement.
Lorenzo and Matteo had a mix of their parents' genes—midnight-black hair like my sister's and hazel eyes like their father's.
I was still getting used to having Gino around more often.
I did not have the highest opinion of him, but I had to begrudgingly admit that he had turned over a new leaf in terms of being a better husband and father.
Of course, this clarity came after Millie reminded me that I didn’t have a leg to stand on regarding morality in the faithfulness stakes. So as long as my sister and the kids were happy, then I would accept him.
Dinner was a raucous affair, with everyone talking at once and the kids pulling me in different directions to show me some new game or trend that was big.
The twins decided they didn't want the Italian-imported pasta our chef had thoughtfully prepared—instead, they insisted on a tinned, extremely soft circular pasta in a very bland, processed sauce, much to their parents' horror.
I recognised it as a food staple that my fellow university friends ate to save money.
Truly vile stuff; the Sicilian in me echoed Giada and Gino's sentiment.
I stared around the room at the delighted faces of my family. Six years ago, this warmth spreading in my chest would have felt foreign and most likely have prompted me to call my doctor.
But I knew what this emotion was now. Remnants of it had always been lurking there—the tightness in my chest whenever Millie smiled at me, the almost spiritual way we came together when we made love, the way she slotted so perfectly into my life and made it feel like I had been missing out on heaven this whole time.
All the signs had been there, and I would forever berate myself for those lost years of anguish I caused her.
Now, I welcomed the love she gave me, and I offered it tenfold at her feet.
My eyes landed, as they always did, on Millie. My wife. My treasure. "I love you,” I mouthed to her as her green-eyed gaze caught mine.
A delicate blush bloomed on her cheeks as her eyes softened with love.
"I love you," she mouthed back.
Thank you so much for reading A Marriage of Discretion!