Chapter 34 #2
“This is where Switzerland meets Italia. Monte Cervino.” He went on to tell me that it is also called “Gran Bècca” in the Vald?tains dialect. “Arpitan is spoken in the Aosta Valley in Italy.”
I felt like in addition to my Italian “lessons,” I also needed history lessons.
I asked my husband to become my teacher, and he nodded seriously, and said, “Sì.” I squeezed his arm in thanks, but it was also to keep me from laughing.
He could be entirely serious at times, times when the mood was light and no one was being formal.
A peaceful sigh escaped my lips.
Since the time when we’d first met (in real time), he was becoming more relaxed. Not when he had business to attend to, but when it was just us, or with his family. I was so thankful for that. That he could loosen the tie and suit, set down the sword he carried, and just be…Rocco Fausti.
He must’ve sensed where my thoughts were at, and he stopped and kissed me. He kissed me until I couldn’t breathe. Maybe I was losing some oxygen—I was climbing Monte Rocco, anticipating getting to the top.
The top of him.
The night before, when he’d set me on top of him, and my thighs were not the only body part spurring me to move…
I repeated the thoughts in my head to Rocco, and he laughed when I said I was climbing him, and so did I. We kept kissing and laughing.
When we pulled away, we gazed at each other, getting lost, until it seemed like the wind whistled and slipped through our own little world, breaking the spell—for the moment.
The sounds and scents around us invaded, and after I set my hand against my husband’s chest, I looked away and found the group staring at us.
It still took me by surprise that Rocco’s family was still adjusting to the way we loved each other.
For so long, he was on the outside looking in.
As Mari once told me, “Rocco was like me—always looking in restaurant windows, starving for something he’d never had. What everyone should have by human right, food—and I don’t just mean something you pick up and put in your mouth.”
I breathed out, and my breath made a cloud. “Are you still starving, my husband?” I whispered.
His finger ran down my nose. “I am always starved for you, Amora, but you feed me whenever I need it. I am no longer starved to the point of famine.”
“Bene,” I breathed out, and we kissed again.
The group began to make the final trek to our destination.
Rocco pointed at a few different areas, explaining to me skiing techniques as we made our way toward the lifts.
A few times, I asked him to stop so we could take pictures.
Either I used my phone, or one of my sister-in-law’s, or Mia snapped them for us with my digital camera that honestly created beautiful photos I’d treasure forever.
I also had a mini video recorder in my bag, and every so often, I’d take that out and record. I couldn’t wait to watch it when we arrived back at our chalet, and this one had a vintage tone to it. I knew it was going to be spectacular and make the videos seem nostalgic when we watched them again.
A few times I asked Rocco’s sons, one by one, all together, to take pictures with us. Massimo was hesitant at first, but I reminded him his new sister or brother was going to be in the photo, too, and I wanted to have the memories saved for him or her.
“I do believe this child will be a girl as well,” Massimo said to me when we were getting close to the food—it seemed like some sort of cafeteria for those who didn’t want to ski or needed refreshments.
Rocco had been talking to Brando, Dario, and Romeo about a certain run that was labeled “black” for advanced skiers.
“Hah?” I breathed at Massimo. I wasn’t expecting him to speak to me.
I thought after our business was finished, meaning the truth he came forward with about Ita and when I spoke to Chloe on his behalf, was all I was getting from him.
But…he seemed open to talking to me. I shook my head and grinned.
“To be honest, I didn’t think you’d talk to me about…
regular stuff. I thought business was all I was getting out of you. ”
He grinned at me. “Do you not know, Aria, that I am my father’s son. I speak to beautiful women with an easy tongue.”
Okay, that was a small dig. Maybe because he knew that, even though his father was speaking to his brothers, an area of Rocco’s mind seemed to be reserved for me, and he’d hear what Massimo had to say on the sly.
Rocco could move me in a second if I was about to fall into a hole or recite a conversation I had with Scarlett while he was speaking to… anyone.
Massimo’s dig stung a bit, because I thought we were starting to, possibly, build a rapport with each other. I played it off, though, refusing to allow him to sense it. Even if he did, I would still make him question it.
I laughed. “This is true. You are all so handsome.” I sighed. “But that’s not what I meant. I didn’t think you’d talk to me because of the issues between you and your dad.”
He narrowed his eyes at me—not in anger or disrespect. I’d shocked him with my bluntness. I refused to hide behind the truth.
He nodded. “I do not hold any ill toward you or my new sibling.”
“Good,” I said. “I enjoy your company. Amadeo and Ludovico’s too.”
“You are different, Aria.”
“In which way?”
“If you do not mind the comparison—most women. Especially the women my father kept the company of.”
“Good,” I said again, my voice firm.
He roared with laughter, and goosebumps pebbled my arms, and not from the cold. When he laughed that way, he was more than Rocco’s twin. He was a carbon copy.
I stared at him, and he stared at me after he realized how hard he had laughed.
“You have your father’s laugh,” I said. “Never stop using it.”
“I am my father in a different time. Do you not know this as well, Aria…all the Fausti men are the same.”
I shook my head. “You might all share the same rules, but you’re all different to me. For example. You are the most serious out of your dad’s sons, but there’s something about your eyes that tells me with the right woman, you’ll be flirty, more lighthearted when no one else is around.
“Your brother, Amadeo, is quiet, but he speaks at all the right times. He watches, absorbs, turns the moments into experiences. Your brother, Ludovico—he’s a flirt with Romeo’s sense of humor.
But…he’s also an artist, which means he needs his time to himself.
” I touched my stomach. “I have a feeling she’s going to inherit a little of all of you, all stemming from the father you all share. ”
“She’ll inherit your beauty,” he whispered. “I do not only mean what is on the outside. If she shall be so blessed.”
My cheeks heated. “Thank you, Massimo,” I whispered, touching my heart. His words truly meant a lot to me.
He winked at me, and I could tell his guard was back up. “If my father is not careful, his past behavior with my uncle’s wife will come back to haunt him through…me.”
At this, Rocco stepped up to me and Massimo walked ahead, stuffing his hands in his pockets, whistling as he walked. The doctor, Alessandra Ponte, stared at him as he began to pass her.
Even though her face was pinched, she didn’t avoid eye contact with him. She huffed in his direction as he passed her. Ermanno was at her side when she almost tripped. He grabbed her arm and steadied her, speaking to her in rapid Italian. She thanked him but took her arm away.
“Huh,” Brando said as he passed us with Scarlett next to him. He was keeping a firm hand on her, even though there was nothing wrong with the way she walked. She was graceful enough that I thought she could ice skate over the snow without an issue or skates.
“Huh,” I repeated, and Mia laughed as she, her husband, and their twins reached Rocco and me. Mac and Mari were not far behind.
I looked at Mia, and she smiled at me. “My dad does that when something perplexes him. Huh.”
“Ahh,” I breathed out. “The doctor and Massimo perplexed him?”
“Probably mamma’s reaction to them. If you’ve noticed,” she whispered from the side of her mouth, “the doctor doesn’t have a healthy relationship with the Fausti family.”
“She’s certainly not hiding it.”
Mia nodded, then snatched her son’s hand before he rolled down the hill—on purpose. Saverio said his name, Vittorio, a sharp command, and the Shorty stood straighter, his shoulders squared, and apologized to his mamma for causing her the slightest bit of concern.
Mia kissed his forehead and then straightened his hat. He smiled up at her, and I saw how she melted…as quickly as the ice if the sun came close to it. She nodded up ahead. Brando was waiting. “You and Brando catch up to Nonno Brando. No rolling down hills, ah?”
“Ah, Mamma!”
The twins took off uphill as only children can do.
“What was I saying?” She shook her head, her attention coming straight back to me once her sons made it to her father.
“Oh! Alessandra Ponte, the doctor. She doesn’t have a healthy relationship with my family.
She thinks the men cause too much damage on purpose, and since she’s a doctor…
it makes sense. Her job is to heal. I mean, I get it.
But years ago, when her family would meet mine for ski trips, I think she fell in love with my cugino. ”
“Massimo.”
She nodded. “Massimo.”
“Massimo never noticed her?”
“I don’t think so. She was always shy, more interested in her books, but…I always thought she was stunning. I haven’t seen her in years. Nothing’s changed, except now she doesn’t have braces and she’s filled out.”
I glanced at Rocco to see if I could judge his face, but he only looked at me and shrugged. After that, Mia and Saverio fell behind to keep step with Mac and Mari. Maybe because she sensed her uncle had something on his mind.
“What?” I asked when it didn’t seem like he was going to say anything.
Rocco rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat. His eyes were frozen on Massimo’s back. “My son is testing me.”
“Why?”
“The words he spoke to you.”
“What did he say…specifically?”
“The entire conversation.”
I thought about this as we walked, our hands linked.
“You think he might try to play the part of karma,” I said.
“Sì, although karma has already started her role.”
I stopped walking, and so did he. My face felt a bit stiff and chapped from the cold wind. Soldiers were up ahead already, dotting the area around the cafeteria like ants guarding a sugar cube.
Mia, Saverio, Mac, and Mari passed us.
“That can’t happen, Rocco,” I whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear, though Mac somehow knew everything anyway.
Probably because it was his job to be familiar with every aspect of my husband’s life, since Rocco was depending on him for a variety of reasons.
“Between you and Massimo, I mean. Things are already strained between you two…”
“Neither of us can direct his behavior. He is a man, my son, and not a child. What will come from him will come. I will answer with my answer.”
That made me anxious. I wanted their relationship to heal, not be torn apart even further. Rocco raised my hand to his mouth and blew his warm breath over my knuckles, even though I wore gloves.
“Come, Amora,” he said, keeping my hand close to his mouth as we made it to the cafeteria. “There is no use in attempting to foretell the future. It is out of our hands. What will be, will be. We will be there to meet it with the appropriate tools—love or sword.”
With that, we walked into the warmth of the cafeteria, most of the cold staying outside where it belonged, but it lingered on my coat, a reminder that the chill could cling hard enough to stick to bone.