46. Andrea
CHAPTER 46
Andrea
FOUR YEARS LATER
I slip my hand into Savio’s and he squeezes. Hard enough to make me realize he’s feeling more than he’s showing.
Not that it comes as a surprise, considering what’s happening.
We bought a place on the C?te d’Azur, two hours away from the town where Savio grew up, after Vows We Break hit movie theaters. We’ve made sure to spend time here every year so that we could stay close to his family.
It’s easy to have freedom when you homeschool. The not-so-small-anymore kids are standing with us beside their grandpapa’s gravesite, tears rolling down their faces for a man who loved with his whole heart and passed that trait on to his son and grandchildren.
The closeness we’ve fostered in our children with their grandparents is evident in how Roman’s arm is curved around his grandma’s waist and how his head is tilted onto her shoulder.
He’s somber for a seventeen-year-old, unlike his more playful sisters. I see a shade of his father in him, especially where his kindness is concerned, and his protectiveness is borderline obsessive.
But I don’t mind that.
His sisters flit around like dandelions flying in the breeze. They’re the light to his dark, just as I am for his father. I almost think he’ll be like Savio in that he’ll be a one-woman man. Now that he and Lola have declared their love for one another after the last couple years of bickering, that’s it for him. And for her.
It’s a shame my father-in-law died in an accident on the roads here. His and Lola’s plan was to open a vet practice together, and I’d have far preferred for Roman to work with animals than become a doctor, but it’s these kinds of traumas that sit in young minds and grow roots.
I saw my boy’s face when we were in the local clinic, the impotent rage in him as he balled his fists while we waited on doctors to heal his grandpapa.
They failed.
He’s been angry ever since.
I turn my face into Savio’s arm, clutching his hand as I do so.
He’s looking stoic because I know he wants to be anywhere other than here. The service is Catholic, and he’s made it a point to avoid all things religious since we first got together.
We lead tight lives. We’re always together, and while we have our freedoms and our mutual hobbies, I think he’d tell me if he visited a chapel…
As the burial slides to a close, I face the cemetery where countless loved ones have been buried over time.
I like it here.
Not the cemetery, although it’s peaceful. But France. It does something for me.
The States is home, and my parents, now that my dad retired, live close to us on the farm in northern Oregon when they’re not traveling the country in their RV, but I just...
I don’t know.
I intended for us to stay here until Lilith adapted to a life without Giuseppe, but I have good vibes about this place.
We came for long summer nights and the freedom of the French countryside. We wanted the kids to learn French naturally and for them to grow closer to their other family, so we’ve made this our almost-home.
But not a permanent living place.
Today, I wonder if it would do us good to be here a little longer than planned.
When I shake hands with the priest, he smiles sadly at me then appears taken aback when Savio entirely evades his touch.
If it weren’t a funeral, I’d have laughed, but as it is, I smile back at him. “It was a beautiful service, Father,” I murmur in French that should be better considering I’m married to a Frenchman, own property on the C?te d’Azur, and have kids who speak it like natives. Sue me, I’m lazy—they all translate for me!
“Thank you, Madame Martin,” he replies politely, still puzzled as to why Savio won’t touch his hand. “Giuseppe was a very good man. It’s a true shame he passed so young.”
I wouldn’t say Giuseppe was young. At eighty-five, I thought he was the opposite of young, in fact, but it was a damn shame that old age didn’t take him and some dick driving his sports car too fast around a bend and crashing into him ripped his life away.
Though we hadn’t been truly vengeful in a long time, and had gotten lost in raising our family, I’d admit to my hackles stirring at the prospect of the stupid dick behind the wheel of the sports car walking off with barely a scratch while Giuseppe lost his life.
I smile politely at the priest then tug on Savio’s arm. He’s wooden and unresponsive, but at my prompt, he ambles along like the big, friendly giant he isn’t.
When the girls cluster around us, Diana’s eldest and our youngest grabbing each other’s free hands in loose knots, I watch as Roman takes Lilith’s and Lola’s too.
He’s so somber that it’s overwhelming to see. He was close to Giuseppe. Losing him is going to be difficult, especially since he isn’t close to my dad, who doesn’t understand his quiet ways.
Roman and Giuseppe used to whittle wood together, for Christ’s sake. Dad couldn’t sit still long enough for a commemorative portrait of him when he hit his last promotion.
As we silently trudge down ancient paths that have seen a million footsteps before us, old buildings and history surrounding us like we’re back in Rome—a city that I’m sad it’s unwise to revisit—I murmur once the girls wander ahead with my parents, “I like it here.”
Savio cuts me a look, his eyes wary because he recognizes me in this mood.
“That’s handy considering we have property here,” is his dry retort. His voice creaks, though. Like his larynx is rebelling.
“I think we should stay longer.” I eye Roman, taking note of how close he is to his grandmother.
Lilith is a lot older than my mom and she’s frail. The idea of her being alone doesn’t sit well with me.
He reads between my lines as only he can. “You want to move?”
“Your mother won’t do well by herself.” At his silence, I prod, “Lilith could come and live with us on the property.”
We have a farm here too. I like being self-sufficient and appreciate even more having people do the running around for us. I’m not a green-fingered person, but I love the open space for Savio and know he enjoys being outdoors.
“We can stay for a while,” he rumbles.
He’s going to take his father’s loss hard, as is his right, but that tone always makes me want to fix what hurts him.
If he’s protective of the kids and me, I’m the same. But in this, there’s nothing I can do except show him I love him and how much I want to make things better for him.
Maybe he knows what I’m thinking because in the shadow of the mairie , ancient with honey-colored walls and a charming clocktower that peals with the hour, he tugs me closer to him and presses a kiss to my temple.
“I’m supposed to be the fixer,” he rasps.
My smile curves freely. “I can do some fixing when my man needs patching up.”
His eyes darken at my words.
My man.
Mine.
They’re powerful labels for him, holding a strength that’s borderline tangible. As always, I see them work their magic.
He’s only a man, but what he is belongs to me.
That reminder grounds him, and when he nods and says, “Staying longer will be good for us,” I know I did the right thing by binding this man with earthly ties and cosseting him within my wings.
Love—I never thought I’d experience it, never thought I’d feel it this strongly, but here I am, surrounded by it and sheltered within its power on all sides.
On a day like today, I need to remember that, and I need my family to remember it too.
We’ve lost one of our own, but we’ll grow tighter for it.
As if that’s a reminder, Diana slots into place beside me as we walk through the village and toward our house in the center where we’re holding a wake.
Her boyfriend of the moment hovers awkwardly at the periphery, but we both ignore him.
“How are you holding up?” she whispers in my ear.
I shoot Savio a look. “I miss him, but Savio’s pain hurts my heart.”
“As it should.” She pats my hand. “Sorry for bringing Damian with me.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Sure it does. Can you imagine he didn’t believe that I was attending a funeral? Insisted on catching a flight with me.”
“You need to dump him. He’s too possessive for his own good.”
Savio, sounding more like himself, snorts. “Judge not lest ye be judged, mon ange .”
The endearment tweaks that ache in my heart. “You like me possessive,” I chide. “Diana doesn’t like it in her partners.”
He shakes his head, but there’s a faint smile curving his lips as he bows down to kiss me. “Behave.”
“Where’d be the fun in that?” I half-tease, but he knows it’s only in jest.
This day matters to us both. Saying goodbye to the kind soul who reared this imperfectly perfect man before me is the priority.
“I’ll be with maman. ”
As I nod my understanding when he drifts into the house, Diana clucks her tongue. “I swear you two are the reason none of my relationships ever work out. Why would I settle for Damian’s nine-inch shlong,” she hisses, “when I have walking twin flames for best friends?”
My brows lift as we walk in too and I swiftly guide her into the kitchen. “Are you okay?”
“No.” She rubs a hand over her face. “And sorry. The last thing you need is me bitching today of all days.”
I rest a hand on her shoulder. “If you don’t want to be with Damian, then don’t be.”
“Your mom and dad, Savio’s… you two … Now Roman and Lola. I want that, Andrea.” She presses her hand to her heart. “I see it. I can feel it. I can touch it. But it’s still so far away.”
“I’m sorry, Di.” I press a kiss to her cheek.
“You don’t have to be. It’s not that I covet what you have either. I’m glad you have Savio. I’m glad he has you. Sheesh, I don’t think either of you would have made it without one another.
“And the way Roman looks at my baby is a relief. She’ll be safe with him. He’ll do anything to protect her beautiful soul. As her mom, that’s all I could ever ask for. I just?—”
“Want it too.” With a heavy sigh, I ask though I know it’s futile: “Is there anything I can do?”
“No.” She pouts. “I overheard you at the cemetery.”
“Which part?” I ask, snagging a flute of Champagne.
According to Lilith, Giuseppe adored Champagne enough that he’d want nothing else served at a celebration of his life.
“That you’re moving here.” She tugs on her bottom lip. “Permanently.”
“You know you’re always welcome. I don’t think the kids would bear with being parted,” I say lightly, eyeing her over the glass in my hand.
When Di sags into the wall, I have my answer, but she asks, “Really?”
“Of course.”
“Immigration though?—”
“What’s money for if it won’t work for your family?” I shrug. “We’ll figure it out. You should be with the people who love you, Diana. There’s always a place for you with us.”
She is, after all, one of the reasons I am on this path.
I saved her, but she saved me too.
It was Diana who convinced Savio I wasn’t just some lunatic from the States.
And as much as I love her and believe that she is my sister, I never forget that there is no Savio and Andrea without her.
Her arm tunnels around me as she draws me in for a hug. Though I return it, I murmur, “Maybe dump Big Dick Damian, though, hmm? Can’t imagine him being happy about you moving to France to live with the hippies of the town.”
The locals don’t know what to make of us. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ll have been accused of running a commune…
Her soft, watery chuckle echoes in my ear. “I dunno. I might keep him around. He’s good for orgasms if nothing else.”
I give her arm a quick squeeze. Aware, not for the first time, of the hand on my shoulder, steering me in the right direction.
I tilt my head up to the heavens and smile—ours might not be an orthodox path, and it certainly isn’t without tragedy, but it is one filled with love.
With our family all around, blended or otherwise, today is proof of that.