Chapter 24 Aurelia
Aurelia
Three months had come and gone. Taormina finally started to grow quiet again as the last tourists returned to their normal lives. The end of summer was here, but the weather was still warm, and there was tons of daylight.
It was obvious Sofia and Beatrice had repaired their broken relationship because I saw them together more often, and in passing, Sofia would say she watched the boys a couple times during the week. At family dinners, they were inseparable.
Sofia and I didn’t spend as much time together as before, but that didn’t bother me because everything was exactly as it should be. I would be her daughter-in-law, not her daughter, so I was happy to step aside.
But because the relationship between Sofia and Beatrice had improved and grown over the last few weeks, Beatrice was now my best friend.
We talked all the time at work, texted after hours, even went out.
I couldn’t drink and I was obviously pregnant at this point, but that didn’t stop us from having a great time.
Constantine was always in a good mood, so he seemed to be happy. Without Rocco or President Barsetti there to remind him of what he’d left behind, he could live in the moment. And he made good on his word, because the bigger my belly got, the more he wanted me.
Sometimes I’d just get up to get a glass of water, and his eyes would pierce me so hard, it was like we met across the bar all over again.
His eyes were so intense, they were a little terrifying, and by the time I made it back to the couch, I was thrown onto my back and he was thrusting into me like he was trying to get me pregnant again.
He liked it when I showed my belly around the house, so he preferred if I only wore bras and sweatpants so he could touch and kiss my stomach.
I was three months along and definitely showing, but it was still a small bump.
But he worshipped me every day as if I would give birth to the next emperor of Rome.
I was at work the next morning, working at the counter, when Beatrice walked inside. “Guess who texted me?”
I looked up from the bowl, my gloved hands covered in food. “No way. He did?”
“Yep.” She came around the counter with her phone in hand. “Check this out.” She started to read the text out loud. “Sorry, I know it’s been a hot minute. But my parents came into town, and then the shop got overrun with work. Free tomorrow night?” She locked the phone and did a little dance.
I was glad she was excited, but I didn’t feel the same enthusiasm.
When she realized I wasn’t dancing with her, she stopped. “Girl, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know if I like what he said.”
“What do you mean? His parents were in town.”
“Yeah, I get that. But Constantine used to be busy all the time, and I never had to wait for his replies longer than a few seconds. It didn’t matter what time of day it was, he always responded to me.”
She crossed her arms over her chest as she considered what I said.
“Maybe he’s telling the truth and he really was that busy, but you should be with a guy who makes you the priority, no matter what he’s doing.”
“Sure, but we went out one time,” she said. “It’s early days. Not everyone falls in love during a week spent in Taormina.”
“Sure . . . you’re right.” I used to have such low expectations of men, and then Constantine raised that bar sky high. But he was a one-in-a-million catch. One in a billion, really. “See him again, and see how it goes.”
She grabbed her phone again and started to type a message.
Sofia appeared in the alleyway through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the restaurant. She approached the door in the corner and stepped inside, her bag over her shoulder. “Stop what you’re doing. We’re closed for the day.”
“What?” Beatrice asked. “Why?”
I started to pull off my dirty gloves, knowing something serious had happened. A family member or friend was in the hospital.
She grabbed the remote for the TV on the wall and turned it on.
“Because there’s been a terrorist attack in Rome.
” She flipped the channels until she got to the news station.
Two reporters were on the screen, and another window was showing the different clips around Rome.
Armed men opened fire in various public places with assault rifles, killing hundreds of people all over the city.
It was still an ongoing event, with the police and military attempting to apprehend the assailants.
Many more were injured or in critical condition.
It was clear it was a coordinated attack by an outside group, but their motivations were unclear.
And then to make it worse, the Monumento a Vittorio Emanuele II was on fire.
The biggest monument in all of Italy, built to celebrate the unification of Italy in the 1800s, was ablaze.
It was a magnificent piece of architecture dedicated to the city and separated from other buildings by the roads, so someone had intentionally set it on fire. “Jesus Christ . . .”
I headed straight home, and when I walked in the door, I ignored Medusa, who came over to greet me. I headed right past her into the living room, but Constantine wasn’t there. I looked out the floor-to-ceiling glass windows to the terrace outside.
I saw him standing there at the railing, in just his black sweatpants and nothing else, his hands gripping the iron rail as he looked out at the sea.
All I could see was his back . . . and I knew.
I headed outside and approached him from behind. I knew he could hear me behind him, but he still didn’t turn around. He remained slightly bent over the railing as he looked at the view that would have been breathtaking any other day.
I stepped up to his back and pressed my forehead against his shoulder blades before I hugged his waist. I closed my eyes and held on to him for comfort—and to comfort him in return. I was devastated by what had happened, but I was even more devastated by how much this must kill him.
After a couple minutes of silence, he slowly turned around to look at me.
I’d only seen him look like this one other time. When he’d shown up with his crew to rescue me from Pierre and that organization. He’d been maniacal in his anger, ready to burn everyone to ash.
But he’d taken that anger to another level.
His eyes were wet like he’d shed tears, angry ones.
The veins were plump in his forehead in a way I’d never seen before.
He had a red tint to his face like he’d gotten sunburned, but it was just the rage making all his tissues inflamed.
The cords in his neck popped too, like he’d just gotten done lifting in the gym, but he probably hadn’t even had a chance to hit the gym that morning.
I was completely lost for words, having no idea what I could possibly do to make this better.
To make him feel better. To make me feel better . . .