Page 18 of Caesar DeLuca
The woman I marry will have to understand this; she’ll have to get that she’s to bear my children. She’s to be loyal and obedient, and I will protect her and spoil her beyond comprehension.
A woman like Ari could never be what I’m looking for in a wife…
Do you hear yourself, stunad? Who gives a fuck? You just met the woman!
I chastise myself, scowling out the window at the snowy landscape below.
The rest of the night is spent like this. Me, posted by the window, checking for any more signs of a disturbance. My mind filled with wandering thoughts about Ari and our interactions. My scolding as I redirect my mind to my plot for revenge against Carisi and his crew.
Against fucking Rocky.
I’ll scoop his eyeballs out with a rusty spoon the second I get the chance.
Eventually, I fall asleep at my post.
The next time I wake, birds are twittering outside the window. The snow’s stopped falling, but that doesn’t mean the inches upon inches on the ground has melted any.
I stand up to a deep ache in my stomach. An itchiness from my stitches. An unease coalesced inside me.
I’m all kinds of fucked up even if I’m not acting like I am.
Ari’s right about one thing—I should be resting up in bed. As if she realizes she’s on my mind, she comes in only a few minutes later, clutching another tray of items for me.
She doesn’t speak. She simply slips into caring for me. Again, the gentle caretaker role she seems to naturally take on.
It fascinates me watching her like this, as she’s the opposite once we start butting heads. It’s as if she puts on a mask and tries her hardest to prove she can stand her ground against me.
I see right through her. She’s really a gentle spirit. She’s a sensitive soul. She presents as some independent, stubborn woman, but deep down, there’s more hidden away.
The moment begins and ends in silence.
She changes out my bandage, provides me another change of men’s clothes, advises I take the medications she brought me, and then informs me she’s made me more soup.
Breakfast soup, she calls it.
I wait ’til she’s gone to try it, then wind up draining the whole bowl.
It’s got soft-scrambled eggs, some noodles, tomatoes, and green onions.
By the time I’m fed and medicated, my wound cleaned and rebandaged, I’m slipping off to sleep again.
I’m more at peace than maybe I’ve ever been.
The room’s silent and dark when I wake. The time reveals it’s only five in the evening, but given the time of year, the sky pitches black early. Predictably, the weather has begun another reign of frost and chill for the night.
I can’t stand another second in bed. While I might need rest, there’s such a thing as too much rest. I shove aside the covers and stretch my legs.
I find Ari in the living room.
Lively flames crackle in the fireplace, making the room extra toasty. She’s sitting on her sofa in the middle of what looks like a game of solitaire. Fitting, considering she likes to act like Miss Independent.
At first, she doesn’t notice me. I enjoy sneaking up on her; something I learned last night.
It’s a shame she’s so hardheaded because she is a beautiful woman. Even now, dressed down, with all female gimmicks stripped away.
Not a trace of make up to be found. Hair wrapped up in one of those satiny scarves. Body hidden by the robe she wears, though her curves still peek through.
She’s comfy and contemplative, but most importantly, she’s being herself in this moment.
