Chapter 44 Romantic Honeymoon
Romantic Honeymoon
I dreamt of you last night. We were still just kids, the weight of the world not on our shoulders. Made me miss you more. —Enzo
Enzo
What was supposed to be a romantic honeymoon filled with booze and sex, has turned into me playing nurse. Not in some kind of roleplay situation. That would actually be preferable. Izzy has spent the past three days in bed or with her head over the toilet throwing up. It’s not pretty.
Not that I mind. Not really.
I’ve brought her tea and soup; made sure she’s comfortable.
Unfortunately, it seems like this illness isn’t going anywhere soon so I’ve ordered a jet back home for us. We just need to get off the island first.
“What time do we need to leave?” Izzy asks between heaves, lifting her head off the toilet seat.
“Twenty minutes. You gonna make it?”
She mumbles something incoherently then retches. My hand runs soothing circles over her back. At least, I hope it’s soothing.
She peers up at me, tears leaking from her eyes, her bottom lip trembling. “I ruined our honeymoon.”
I gather her into my arms, my fingers combing her sweaty hair. “You could never ruin anything, Cuore mio. I’ve been with you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
This just makes her cry harder.
My phone chimes.
“Time to go, baby.”
Weak-limbed, she pushes to her feet, accepting my help to steady her.
By the time we make it outside she appears better, less pale.
I buckle her into the helicopter, then head around to the pilot’s side, taking my seat and getting it ready to fly.
Izzy manages to keep everything inside her for the duration of that flight. Then on the plane, she sleeps for most of the journey.
Back at Papa’s compound, Izzy heads straight upstairs to our room while I catch up on business.
Just before I leave his office I pause, twisting my neck back to him. “And Marcus?”
Papa just shakes his head. “In the wind.”
I grit my teeth. “He’s not going to stay hidden forever.”
“He might. All his friends are gone—dead or soon to be. He knows if he shows his face we’ll kill him. Maybe he’ll remain underground.”
“I don’t buy it. He’s plotting something. Or he’ll grow frantic. His life has been ruined. He’ll need someone to blame—and it won’t be himself.”