Page 91 of Code Name: Michelangelo

My first challenge came the next morning, when I found myself face-to-face with Macellaio.

“The maestro returns,” he sneered more than said.

The feeling of dread that had been building over the course of the last few weeks became almost debilitating. My gut told me that, somehow, this man would be responsible for my demise.

27

BUTTERFLY

It had been two weeks since I heard Brand’s voice anywhere other than in my dreams. I’d received messages via a secure app, but no sooner had I read them than they disappeared.

The day he left, I was glad no one had sent anything to commemorate my birthday. He had enough on his mind without feeling the need to plan something he had no time for.

That I didn’t hear anything from my mother or father was par for the course, as they say. I’d lived twenty-eight years without so much as a bouquet of flowers, let alone a birthday party.

One of my earliest memories of the day was my mother telling me that no one wanted to celebrate anything on the second day of January after spending the two days prior to doing so.

It was worse for Quinn. She was born on New Year’s Day, so when Tara and I went to California, we drank a toast to each other. Far more than that, actually, since we spent the following weekend wine tasting. Tara served as our designated driver, assuring us she didn’t mind. Being pregnant was worth every drink she didn’t have.

I felt a pang of jealousy when she said it, wishing Brand and I were already married and well on our way to starting a family. Then I reminded myself of everything my four best friends had been through in the time since we’d met. Each one of us deserved a happy ever after. Just because I was the last to find mine didn’t mean Ava’s, Aine’s, Tara’s, or Quinn’s journey to theirs had been less challenging.

While I worried about Brand every day, I knew in my heart that once he did what he was assigned to do in Italy, he’d be on the next flight home, where our lives together would begin in earnest.

Since the first of the year through mid-April was our slowest time of the year, I was perusing auction catalogs when I heard the ring at the gallery’s front door. Before I could buzz the person in, I glanced up when Tara, who was standing at the top of the stairs leading to her studio, did it, then walked away.

“Hello, Butterfly.”

Unlike when Brand had walked in the last time and said those same words, I didn’t hesitate. I jumped up from my seat, raced toward him, and landed in his arms. He picked me up and spun me in a circle. “I can’t believe you’re really here,” I said, scattering kisses all over his face and finally landing on his mouth.

He held me with one arm and the back of my head with his opposite hand while, at the same time, pushing his tongue between my lips.

“God, how I’ve missed you,” he said, sliding me down his body and setting me on my feet.

I put both hands on his cheeks. “Me too.” I kissed him again, then rested my forehead against his. “How long can you stay?”

“Not nearly long enough, but at least a few days.”

“Tara?” I called out.

“Yes?” she responded.

I looked over my shoulder and saw her standing a few feet away. Brand released his arms from around me, and I stepped aside so he could greet his sister.

When they whispered something to each other, I busied myself at my desk, unsure if I should go into the back or upstairs to give them some privacy.

I was about to stand when Brand approached after thanking Tara. “I’m whisking you away.”

I smiled. “Are you?”

“I’ll take care of the gallery for the next few days,” Tara offered. “If I need to, I’ll call in reinforcements.”

“You’re sure?”

She rolled her eyes. “Just get out of here, would you?”

“Happily.”

Neither Brand nor I spoke on the walk to the town house. Once inside, much like the day we’d picked out a Christmas tree, our clothes were off, scattered on the stairs, in the hallway, and finally near the bed where we spent the next few hours making love, talking, and just holding each other.

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