Chapter 32 #3
Massimo nodded. Rocco took my hand, and we walked toward the dining room together. I heard Massimo say under his breath, “I am surprised she would want the son of another woman with her husband at her table.”
I stopped walking, and so did Rocco.
“You’re half of your father too,” I whispered.
“I love him, completely, and that means I love you too, as a…family member.” We were too close in age for me to refer to myself as his mamma through marriage, but we could still consider ourselves blood-related, thicker than blood, if we grew close enough.
“I would like for us to all be close. To be a family.”
Rocco took my hand and practically drug me to the table. He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Allow Massimo a moment to recover from that speech. It tore my heart out. I am sure it did the same to him.”
“I didn’t mean to tear anything,” I said. “I was trying to thaw whatever this cold thing is that exists between you both.”
He nodded. “The only warmth he will feel at this moment is from you. It is impossible to be in your presence and not feel the warmth of the sun on a perfect summer day, my Amora.” He leaned down and set his lips against mine, so softly, my heart was almost hypnotized into believing I was falling in love with him for the first time all over again. But how could I forget?
That was the magical power Rocco Fausti wielded over me.
I was so taken by the kiss I’d forgotten the frozen wild boar in my hands. Rocco took it from me and disappeared into the kitchen, then came back and took his seat next to me.
The two ends of the table were empty. Since this was my table and I ruled it, as a lioness would in Fausti tradition, I requested no heads. I felt it would give everyone a chance to just be…family. I wasn’t sure if my father-in-law appreciated it or not, but for the moment, he seemed content.
Maggie Beautiful was so gracious about the food and the spread.
She kept saying everything was so delicious, the evening felt magical, and my father-in-law echoed her sentiments, along with Massimo, Amadeo, and Ludovico.
My husband, too, of course, but I could tell how proud of me Rocco was by the look on his face, and above all, that warmed me to my toes.
I was especially proud when the entire table went silent as we ate, and there was not a hint of awkwardness from it.
A sign the food was too good to talk.
After everyone had their fill, that was when the conversation truly began.
Luca made a comment about one of the dishes I’d cooked tasting the same as his mamma’s.
Rocco touched my neck when I blushed. Each of Rocco’s sons had a favorite dish, and when I asked them all about skiing, it was the equivalent of a flame to a wick.
They all recounted memories of vacationing where it snowed from years past.
Even Luca chimed in. He said he had been going skiing with his family since he was a young man. Maggie Beautiful mentioned seeing the photographs. She said his family kept beautiful records of times long gone.
“I can’t wait to learn,” I said. “After the baby is born.”
Rocco leaned in and gave me a soft kiss on my cheek. Maggie Beautiful was beaming at me, and when she asked if I had a feeling either boy or girl, I answered truthfully.
“I don’t care what we have,” I said, leaning into Rocco, feeling his warmth seep into my dress, envelop me in safety. His cologne drifted under my nose, and I didn’t want to ever stop breathing him in. “No matter what, we’ve been blessed, but…I’m feeling girl.”
Maggie Beautiful almost bounced out of her seat. “Girl! That’s something with so many men! Isn’t that wonderful, Luca?”
I’d never truly seen Luca look at Rocco with so much pride in his eyes that they glistened, but he was.
My husband deserved it, but for so much more than my words or the fact I could’ve been having a daughter of the blood.
Either way, though, it made tears come to my eyes.
I squeezed my husband’s hand, and he cleared his throat, taking a drink of water.
Massimo, Amadeo, and Ludovico all congratulated us, almost in awe at the fact they might have a sister. Then a moment passed. When it did, I noticed the men at the table take notice instantly of what had changed. Massimo’s face. It became hard again, cold and frozen.
I had to wonder if Rocco’s happiness, having all he ever wanted in love, three sons and a possible daughter on the way, was a hurtful reminder of all he’d lost. Out of everyone in the family that I knew personally, Massimo’s and Rocco’s situations were eerily similar.
Except Rocco watched his sons grow. Massimo’s son was being raised by Matteo and Stella.
The entire situation made me sigh, but it hadn’t lessened the pressure. I just hoped they could work it out. Massimo had a lot of resentment, and maybe because of who he was in the family, Rocco expected him to get over it.
That was all we could do, move forward, but I thought talking about the issues might help. I didn’t want to step over any boundaries, though. The men in the family had their laws, and I only hoped they wouldn’t try to kill each other on the path to healing.
I also knew Massimo held the truth to the situation that could change the course of our lives. Rocco squeezed my hand, like he could read my thoughts.
Rocco stood, thanked me for the delicious food, and, making my cheeks heat, led the table to clap for me. I thanked everyone and told them it was my pleasure.
Luca and Maggie Beautiful left not long after, followed by Amadeo and Ludovico, who said they were going to meet some of their cugini at the local bar.
Rocco kept my hand in his as we moved to a sitting room in the chalet. Rocco offered me a seat, nodded to one for his son, and then took his own.
Massimo sat as a soldier would. He cleared his throat. “Before I begin with what I know, I am going to be clear on this. What I am about to say is not for my father’s benefit, but yours.” He was looking at Rocco but speaking to me, which was extremely odd.
Rocco tensed, but I squeezed his hand.
“Although I am here to bring news,” he continued, “I also am here to ask for a favor in return, as I previously mentioned.”
Rocco and Massimo stared at each other. Rocco nodded.
Massimo cleared his throat. “The witch is lying. Ita Novak. I was there the night she drugged you.”
Rocco stood. Massimo stood. Father and son were a breath apart.
I stood, not coming between them, but attempting to stop the violence I felt brewing.
Father and son or not, if disrespect was felt, or if Massimo challenged Rocco, they wouldn’t hesitate to draw blood.
I knew Rocco was wondering why he hadn’t spoken this truth sooner, but that was neither here nor there.
He’d been there and seen what had happened.
“Massimo,” I whispered, “how do you know?”
Maybe it was the pleading tone in my voice. These men had a soft spot for women. Or maybe it was because he trusted me after I didn’t say anything to Rocco about what he’d done the night of the harvest celebration. Whatever the reason, he looked at me.
“I watched the entire scene unfold. After my father went with Giovanni to check on the donkey caretaker, the witch slipped inside the room and switched the bottles. The original bottle must have been tainted. I am not sure how much she added. I was not there to witness this part. However, I witnessed her removing my father’s pants.
He knocked her down. She would get back up and try again.
This is when I walked in and she ran from me.
She did not know it was me. She only heard me.
I did not want her to see me. I have a feeling she is not working alone. ”
The relief I felt knocked the wind out of me. Rocco helped me to my seat and then took his. He stared into the distance for some time, then said in a voice so chilling I shivered, “And you did not choose to tell us this sooner.”
That was when a warmth I’d never seen on Massimo’s face appeared.
“No, I did not, Father,” he said respectfully.
“You did not come to my aid when I needed you the most, therefore, I did not come to yours. The only reason I have stepped in now is because I find your wife a trustworthy and warm woman, and I did not want to see her suffer for the person you were prior to meeting her. Not in the same way my son’s mamma suffered.
A suffering you could have put an end to, if you so wished. ”
Rocco stood abruptly and went to fix his tie, even though he was wearing a cable knit sweater. “Tell me!” he roared. “Tell me if killing your mamma would have not killed a part of you!”
Massimo stood even straighter, his hands balling at his sides. “I did not have a mamma, the same as you.” Massimo didn’t shout like Rocco had, but every word he uttered seethed with resentment. “I would have thought you would have wanted something different for your sons.”
“Tell me, my son,” Rocco said in Italian, “what are you doing different for your son.”
Massimo stood like a solider would, and in a voice so formal, no one would ever believe this was a son speaking to his father, said, “Permission to leave, Signor.”
Rocco waved a hand, as if to say, go, get out of my face.
My hands twisted, and I jumped from my seat before Massimo could leave, calling his name. He stood with his back to me for a moment, and then his shoulders stiffened and he turned to face me.
“What did you want?” I whispered. “As a favor?”
“For the information I have provided you both with, that you will speak to Chloe on my behalf.”
I squeezed Rocco’s hand, and he squeezed back. He didn’t think this was crossing any lines. I wouldn’t usually have asked for consent, but I didn’t want to start anything more between them.
“The favor is yours,” I said. “I’ll try talking to her.”
“You will tell her the witch is dead?”
“Ah…” I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded. It felt odd to have to deliver the news that Rosaria was dead to Chloe. If she kept up with the news, though, her passing had made it beyond Europe’s borders.
Massimo left, and the room seemed to echo the silence.
I didn’t know what to say. I was so relieved in one aspect.
I’d trusted my husband, betted on him, and he hadn’t proved me wrong.
But the situation with Massimo…the situation with Michelangelo, Massimo’s son, Rocco’s grandson…
was the sound of my husband’s heart breaking and healing repeatedly, all in single breaths.
He made an animalistic noise in his throat and pulled me so hard against him, I lost my breath. He buried his face in my stomach, and all I could do was hold him while he cried what seemed to be tears of blood.