Chapter 4 – Marco
My mother has left for the night, and I think it was a rather successful meal together.
We’ve put the girls to bed, and Bea is getting ready in the bathroom.
As usual, I anticipate at least some sexy time, but when she comes into the bedroom, she doesn’t seem like herself. So, I do my best to conceal my already erect penis from her and ask what’s wrong.
She’s rubbing lotion into her hands, and she sits down on top of the comforter. “Nothing.”
Her glazed eyes give her away immediately.
“Please just tell me. Clara used to always play this game with me . . .”
“First of all, don’t compare me to her,” she snaps.
Whoa. “I’m sorry. I just hate having to guess what someone is upset about. I’d rather you just tell me up front.”
“Okay, well. It kind of hurt my feelings when you were talking down about Anthony’s.”
This totally takes me off guard. “What? When did I do that?”
“When you and your mother were talking about Ostrich Francesca or whatever.”
Her mispronunciation is adorable. But I wouldn’t dare acknowledge that or correct her.
“What about it?” I ask.
“You were joking how Anthony’s could never measure up to that place. And it just made me upset. I know Tony and his wife, and they are hard-working people who don’t deserve to have their food compared to some hoity-toity and overrated place. And I’ll have you know, there’s a review online that says Anthony’s is better than the French Laundry. So, there!”
She’s breathing heavily, and her cheeks are red.
“I’m—I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to clown them at all. The food was actually very good. It always is.”
Bea suddenly exhales, slaps her hands on the sheets, and sinks back. “I guess I was just self-conscious about looking like some country bumpkin. I’ve never even been out of the country . . . and here you are, someone who was born in an exotic place like Italy.”
I feel so bad that I made our upbringings so apparent—when that was exactly what I didn’t want to do.
She has one of my hoodies on, and the sleeves reach well past her hands, so I grab the extra fabric and pull her to me. Then, I take her long hair and brush it out of her face.
“I’m genuinely very sorry for offending you in any way. I love Hazelhurst. It’s where you and my girls are from.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. Why would I stay here if I didn’t? I don’t have anything—well, now I have you—but I didn’t always have something holding me here. Not after Clara left.”
She sniffles a little and wipes her nose with a sleeve.
Then, I turn on the television, and we cuddle in close.
“I’m sorry again that my mom brought that side out of me. Not that I should hold her responsible, but—”
“Shhh.” She presses her finger against my lips.
And it isn’t long before I feel her left hand dance down my stomach and into the front of my underwear.
“Do you have lube?” she asks, although she already knows the answer, as we’ve used it together on multiple occasions at this point.
“I do.” I reach for the bedside table and get it out.
She squirts it onto her palm and continues what she was just doing. Her fingers are gliding up and down and making me feel like I’m going to bust with each stroke.
It doesn’t take long before I come onto my bare belly.
She smiles. “I’ll get you a paper towel.”
“Thanks,” I responded breathlessly.
She curls in close against my side after I clean myself off.
I turn my head and kiss the top of hers. I love the smell of vanilla that always emanates from her hair.
“Is there anything you’d like me to do to you?” I whisper.
“Maybe.” She looks up at me while smiling and simultaneously biting her lip.
“What?”
“Surprise me.”
“Your wish is my command.” I go over to my closet and get a toy I bought on a whim while I was still married. But I never got the chance to use it on Clara before she left.
“Oh!” she remarks as soon as she sees it.
“Is that okay?”
“Yeah. I have a similar one at home.”
That is so incredibly hot,I think, as I imagine her pleasuring herself.
Then, I use my own spit to get it ready and then press it against her.
Her back is on my bed, and I’m leaning over her.
She continues to moan in pleasure until she grabs my hips. “No, I want you too.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I get a condom secured on and then enter her.
The dual sensation brings out sounds I’ve never heard her make, but I love them. And when she gets a little too loud, I use my hand to muffle her sounds. Of course, they are music to my ears, but I don’t want to risk waking the girls up. If they did, they’d probably think I was killing her or something.
She eventually comes before I have the opportunity to do so again, but that’s completely fine.
“That was really nice.”
“Oh, yeah? Good. I’m glad.” I lay down, and she rests her head on my chest. We just breathe in silence for a bit.
“So, do you think she liked me?” she asks out of the blue.
“Who?”
She raises her head to meet my gaze. “Your mother.”
“Oh.” That is one of the last people I wanted to think about at that moment, but I still answered honestly, “I do.”
“See, I felt like that too. But she also made some comments under her breath about our age gap.”
“She did? I didn’t hear that?”
“It was one you were cutting Alessia and Aurora’s food. She was asking about how long I’ve lived in Hazelhurst, and when I said that I was born and raised here, she asked if I went to school with your ex-wife.”
I audibly sigh. “Which, of course, you did not.”
“No. I mean, we must have gone to the same school. Just not at the same time.”
“Right.”
“But we’re going to have to get more comfortable with comments and questions like that. People are going to be curious, and we have to be open to that.”
“Very true.”
“I mean, who knows what my parents are going to have to say.”
“What? You haven’t told them?”
“No.”
“Oh . . .” Here, I thought that she was letting me into the deepest parts of her life with Micky and everything. I never thought to question about her folks.
She sits fully up and buries her face in her hands. “And I truly don’t know why. It’s not like I necessarily care what their opinions are going to be—”
“Yes, you do.”
“Okay, fine. I do.”
The moonlight is reflecting so perfectly off of her skin, and I graze my hand against her jawline. “Have they met any of your previous boyfriends?”
“Yes. But they worry. It”s not just about me with a significant other. Just in life because of this thing.” She gestures down to her pump.
“Well, coming from a father—I can’t imagine what it would be like to have a sick child. If I had to deal with something as serious as diabetes with one or both of them, I’m sure I’d never stop being concerned.”
“I get that part. I do. But I’m an adult, and I’ve proven time and time again that I know how to take care of myself.”
“And I have to imagine it’s much easier with that device than constant shots or whatever.”
“It is. I mean, I still have to watch my sugar levels closely. But it’s easier to regulate with this. Especially after a large meal like we had tonight.”
I get up a little. “Are you—are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She places her hand near my collarbone and pushes me back down.
“Okay, good.”
“I told you. I know how to manage my symptoms and everything else that comes along with this terminal disease. My parents just don’t seem to trust me for some reason.”
“What if we told them together? Your parents, I mean. About us.”
Her eyes widen. “That might be good.”
“Okay. Let’s do it, then. My mother is going to be around a day or two more. I can have her watch the girls, and we can have dinner with them. Just make sure your dad keeps his shotgun at home,” I add, remembering the warning I’d received about him and his level of protectiveness.
I can see the limited light bounce of her perfect smile. “You got it.”