Chapter 11
11
Giselle
“C ome on, I’ll help you up.” Carlo stood beside Carmen, ready to boost me.
Fear shot through me, and I backed away.
“No, I can’t. I’m not healed up enough. I might hurt myself.” I held both hands out in front of me.
Carlo moved like a large cat into my space. He wrapped his arms around me. “The doctor cleared you for horseback riding.” His lips touched mine. “And everything else.” Then his lips crashed down on mine, and he gave me a soul-stealing kiss. His tongue found mine, and he awoke something inside of me that I thought had been gone forever.
My lower belly ached—but not in pain.
With need.
My hands landed on his chest, and I pushed away. “Carlo,” was all I could say in my breathless voice, “are you sure?”
He gave me a smexy smirk. “She gave you the green light. And me.” He chuckled, and I laughed at the lusty look in his eyes.
It felt like he wanted to eat me for lunch.
“You’re sure?” I asked again, still skeptical.
I mean, it had been three months since Marcello was born. And I had healed up. Every doctor and specialist said I was a medical wonder for surviving—and healing up so quickly from all the surgeries.
The only thing they couldn’t guarantee was—if I could ever have more babies or not.
And that honestly devastated me.
I was happy and blessed to have Dani and Marcello. And I knew that there were a lot of people out there who didn’t have one child, let alone two wonderful angels.
But I’d always pictured myself with a lot of kids. Like five. Or six.
I knew it was stupid. Especially since I’d assumed I’d be on the run my whole life.
But there was a large part of me that wanted to keep that option open. You know?
“You can’t get back in the saddle unless you,” Carlo gently touched his lips to mine, “get back in the saddle.” Then he grasped my hand and pulled me over to Carmen. I took a deep breath and swung my leg over.
And I was up.
Honestly, I felt more than a little dizzy up here. It had been so many months since I’d been on a horse.
“You good?” Carlo asked, not taking his hand off Carmen.
Or me.
I grinned down at him, full force. “Yeah. I’m good.”
His big hand squeezed my leg. “I’ll follow you and catch up.”
I kicked and Carmen headed out into the field.
And it was wonderful.
The sun was shining down on us, and it helped to clear the cobwebs and bad crap in my brain.
There were no madmen on the loose out here. Or dead, bleeding women.
Nope.
Just me and my horse.
My legs and behind were already sore. But that didn’t mean I was going to quit.
No.
It had been far too long since I’d gone for a ride. I wasn’t going to back out now.
Carlo and Cappo came trotting up to us.
He gave me a smile and said, “Let’s go.”
And.
We did.
He took me all around the estate, and down by the water.
We didn’t stop, though.
An hour later, when we arrived back at the stables—I was freaking tired.
And sore.
Carlo helped me dismount, and I moaned in pain, “Ugh, ouch, ouch, ouch.”
Carlo kept his hands on me and turned me around. “Are you hurt?” The way he stared at me made me feel better. “Just sore. It’s been a while.”
He gave me a half-smirk. “You’re going to be sore when you ride me tonight, too.”
Yeah.
No real sympathy from that guy.
He let me walk around and stretch out while he dealt with the horses. I was feeling a little tired.
I’d started coming out here with Carlo and Dani in the mornings a while ago. And then Carlo and I would come out again in the afternoon when the kids went for their nap. He rode, but I stayed behind and groomed the horses.
And sang to them.
It was my happy place.
And it got me out and moving—and gaining my strength back, one step at a time.
And yes, I slept beside Carlo every night. A few times I’d awoken to his hand on my breast, and his huge cock hard on my behind.
But once he realized what he was doing—he always apologized and left.
Not once had our kisses ended up in anything more.
Apparently, tonight—he had other ideas, though.
The rest of the afternoon went as planned. As most of our afternoons did.
I rested, and fed Marcello when he woke up. Then Carlo and I would play with him until Dani and the other kids woke up.
Eve was mostly in charge of supper. She and Mafalda appeared to get along all right.
And Eve and I were back to being best friends as well.
Weeks ago, I finally called her into my room. I asked her to sit down.
And then I apologized to her.
Eve being Eve, accepted before I’d even finished speaking.
Her arms circled me, and she started crying.
I hugged her back and said, “But I wasn’t finished. I had a whole speech planned.”
She sobbed into my shoulder, “Shut up, you dufus. I don’t care about stupid speeches. I just want my best friend back.”
And then we cried for a good ten minutes. Neither of us could talk because we were so filled with emotion.
Eventually, though, we did let go of each other and talk.
I didn’t share much.
It was my burden to carry.
Not hers.
She’d had enough of her own trauma. She didn’t need to hear what I’d gone through.
So, we had a heart-to-heart. Minus the gory details.
And then we talked about the kids.
And sore nipples.
Ours, not theirs.
She gave me some motherly advice. And some best friend advice.
And I took everything she handed me.
And then we put on an old eighties’ movie about a girl from the wrong side of the tracks who loved the color pink.
And hated posers.
And then everything was right in our world.
For now, anyway.