And does it ever. As it turns out, we don’t have to bring it up at all. After Derio arrives with the twins, we sit down to eat outside under the pergola, which is blooming beautifully thanks to my long-dormant green thumb. Nero the cat, who has started coming back now that Annabella occasionally puts out milk for him, watches us from the patio ledge, his tail flicking. As the kids tell us about their fun times, Alfonso abruptly breaks the ice.
He looks at me and Derio before taking a bite of his bread, which he has piled obscenely high with toppings. Apparently they didn’t overeat enough (Annabella said it was because most of the food Alfonso made wasn’t very good).
“Are you two boyfriend and girlfriend?” he asks.
Derio and I exchange a look across the table. I raise my brow. He raises his.
“What makes you ask that?” asks Derio.
“Allora,” Alfonso says, pausing to take a bite of his bread. Red oil from sundried tomatoes runs down his chin and half the toppings slide off onto the plate. He doesn’t seem to notice. “Signora Bagglia said you were. So I believed her.”
“Is it true?” Annabella asks, looking between the two of us. “Are you in loooooove?”
If it’s possible for Derio and me to both blush at the same time, well, I think we just did. The boyfriend-girlfriend question is a lot easier to deal with than the love one. We’re both aware we haven’t said those words to each other yet.
I clear my throat. “We were planning to tell you. We just decided last night that you are old enough and responsible enough to know,” I tell them, my voice extra serious. “So yes, we are boyfriend and girlfriend and we like each other very, very much.”
“I knew it,” Alfonso says, scooping up the tomatoes and slices of porchetta and stuffing them directly into his mouth. “I saw you kissing once.”
“You did not,” I admonish him. We’ve been so careful!
“You were kissing each other with your eyes,” he says and then makes overly suggestive looks at the two of us.
I can’t help laughing. “We were not. Now finish your food.”
He shrugs and somehow manages to put more food in his mouth.
“Is it okay?” Derio asks, looking at the two of them. “That Amber and I are together? We really care about each other and we really care about you.”
“It’s okay,” Alfonso admits cheerily.
“I like it,” says Annabella. “It is like a fairy tale.”
“Which fairy tale?” I ask.
“Il Principe Ranocchio,” she says.
“The Frog Prince?” Derio translates, letting out a small laugh. “Am I the frog?”
Annabella nods, smiling cheekily at the two of us. “And she is the pretty princess.”
Derio makes an overly disgruntled face. “I don’t think that is very fair.” He waits for a beat, then croaks, “Ribbit.”
We all burst out laughing.
Later that night, Derio and I say goodnight to the twins before going to his room, where I am to sleep, permanently, from now on. As we are leaving Annabella’s room, she calls out after us.
“Can Amber stay with us forever?”
Derio slips a comforting arm around me in the dark.
“I hope so,” he says solemnly as he holds me close to him.
When we’re in bed, after we’ve made love, I roll over onto my side and he pulls me against him, spooning me.
“I will find a way for us,” he whispers gruffly in my ear. It sends a shiver down my back. “So you can stay.”
“Promise?”
He kisses the back of my head, breathing in deeply. “Promise.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I dream I am falling, as I always do. There is no scene that is set, no common reoccurrence, not this time. It’s just me falling into the black, into the abyss. I scream but it falls with me, sucked into the darkness. The terror is not knowing when you’re going to hit, when you’re going to land—when it’s going to hurt.
When I wake up, gasping for breath, I realize the dream is still going on. I look at the man beside me, sleeping soundly for once, and I know I’m awake and this is my life and I’m falling. Down, down, down.
I’m falling in love with Derio. My mind, body, and soul are tumbling over and over with my heart and he is the only thing in front of me. It’s just him. It’s always him. He invades my thoughts and my hopes and my beliefs. He’s the hand I’m always reaching for and the skin I itch to touch. He’s a boy of broken dreams and shattered years and I want so much to soothe his pain. I want to let him in. I want him to let me in. I want to heal this man and make him fall the way I am falling for him.