Page 34 of Tammaro DeLuca

We were over. I had the letter to prove it. My emotions had shifted along the way, and I had to get some space from him. This wasn’t making it better. In fact, all his silent fussing was pulling me further into his web. He washed my hair, and he was on point with the attention to detail. Combing the shampoo and conditioner through my curls. I had to interfere when he tried to plait my hair. He didn’t have that part down yet. I went to sleep, falling face forward into la-la land like a ton of bricks had hit me.

Something wonderful made my stomach wake up before my brain did. I sat up slowly, seeing Ro approach slowly, carrying a tray.

“Whatever it is, it smells amazing.” I mumbled to him as he stood beside the bed.

“It’ll taste even better when you wash off a day’s worth of sleep.” He chuckled.

“A day?”

“We got here yesterday afternoon. It’s evening today.” He sat the tray down and helped me stand. “Brush your teeth and wash your face while I bring in the rest of the food.”

The rest? But before I could say anything, he kissed my lips, gentle and sure. Gone was the claim that he used to stake. Now, it was soft, gentle, and gave me space from the other version of us. Less intense, more therapeutic.

At the entrance of the bathroom, I turned to glance at him. He was busy setting up his feast on the bed while I watched him work.

“Cara angelo, don’t make me come over there and show you how quickly you need to move. Eh?”

Awareness of him stirred low in my stomach, not quite reaching my naughty parts. Even if it had, mentally, I wasn’t ready. It still got me moving in the bathroom to get ready for food. I handled my business, still sore and tender. I was gentle as I freshened up, focused on the task and not the reason everything felt different between my legs. Deep breaths and steadily coaching myself, I got through my routine and got to the bedroom right as Ro was about to sit. He helped me into my spot instead and he moved beside me. There was a projector set up, ready to stream movies.

“Is there something you want to watch?” He asked.

“Something funny.” I admitted, as a little bit of excitement wiggled inside.

On the trays, there was some kind of Italian soup. It had red broth, noodles, peppers, sausage, chicken, and mozzarella cheese on top. There was a petite salad, bread, and strawberry cake, too. There was also an Italian-style charcuterie board set up with snacks. Olives, tomatoes, cheddar, salami, peperoni, freshly sliced mozzarella, tomato, basil, balsamic glaze, prosciutto, and ciabatta bread.

“You love me.” I said while practically drooling over the spread. He knew food was my love language.

“I do.” He murmured.

I paused, not wanting to think too much about it. We were talking about food, not our relationship.

“What’s that?” I pointed to the two bottles he had in a bucket chilling.

“Grape juice and red wine. I didn’t know which you were in the mood for.”

“A little of both.” I admitted, happy that he didn’t make the moment awkward by going back to the love comment.

He poured me a glass of equal parts of both. I sipped it, immediately happy that I’d chosen the mix. The red had a bite to it and the grape juice softened it.

“Where’d you order all this from?” I asked.

“The wine and snacks are from a wine boutique. The soup I made myself. It’s Mama’s recipe.”

He wasn’t serious, was he? I took a bite and closed my eyes. I’d just been transported to Italy. Why in the hell was this soup so damn good?

“Oh, my goodness.” I took another bite. And another…

“She once told me that the woman I’d prepare this for must be special. She was a little too excited to give it to me.” He smiled at the memory before settling into his own food. I didn’t bother him about it, allowing him privacy. He found a movie and when I said nothing in return, he began playing it.

We ate in silence, and he didn’t talk to me about anything. He let the movie fill the void in the room. I held a pillow, using it as a shield to the world. Ro paid no mind. I was surprised to find him asleep halfway through the film. When it was over, I covered him with the blanket, and I took the food down and put it away.

Asmaria came down in the middle of me loading the dishwasher and she just stared at me. I didn’t know how much she knew, so I prepared myself for all the questions. Instead, she ran over and hugged me so tightly that I could barely breathe.

“I’m so sorry, Mommy.” She kissed my stomach over and over and then went back to hugging me.

I tried to hold back the tears, but after that, I couldn’t.

“It’s okay, baby. There will be other opportunities.” I cleared my throat, trying not to let hope blossom or die. Neutral. I needed to keep it that way, so it wasn’t something I would look forward to.

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