Page 22 of Whispers on the Mountain

"We can stay at the cottage," I remind him.

"Good point. Why don't we just plan on that? That way no one has to drive."

His intonation isn't lost on me. Augustus says I'm a kinky drunk but it's so much more fun when he can drink with me.

We're going down to Mom's for dinner, so we'll be able to walk back to the cottage afterward.

We went so many years all of us living in our own little bubbles, I'm not about to miss out on the family bonding that we're just beginning to work on.

This family dinner routine is new for us since Gran and Mom mended old fences and, since June and Donner showed up, Cane's even mellowed out some.

Looking down at the message on my phone before I close the app, I wonder how that's going to change if Hayle is really coming home.

EPILOGUE 2

Five Years Later

Augustus

"Lasciala con Celia."

I let my lips brush the shell of fiore's ear when I whisper to her.

The shiver that moves over her golden skin is the response I hoped for.

My cousin waves us off without need for an excuse to take our daughter off our hands for however long we trust her not to teach her Italian.

Celia's language tutoring is how I learned to swear, after all.

"Where are we going?"

"I want to show you the old house," I answer, leading my wife by the hand across the Italian landscape.

"August, we saw the old house when we got here."

Zephyr giggles, onto me for sure.

"Si, but you didn't get to see it in the good light."

My family's estate in Italy is a collection of more modern villas nestled among ancient olive trees. The old house is a crumbling square of four stone walls on a hilltop with a view of the sunset.

When we arrived a week ago, we walked up to see it in the morning. I showed her the view and gave her what history I know of it.

This evening, I have very different plans.

It's a short hike up the low hill and when we get there, the sun is already kissing the horizon.

"Ooh, that is pretty." Zephyr stands beside the outside of the stone walls and gapes into the distance, her hand still entwined with mine.

"It is, indeed."

When she turns, she sees that my eyes are only on her.

I watch the blush spread up her body, fanning from her deep cleavage and into her cheeks. We stand and watch as the fire of pink and golden hues lighting the sky fades to blues and pastel hues of lilac.

"Oh." Zephyr's eyes are drawn to the interior of the structure beside us as the string lights begin to go on.

"Romantic," she coos as she moves beyond the arch that no longer holds a door on the rusted hinges.

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