Page 47 of Now and Forever

His unease quickly returned. “Please talk to Mr. Luciano. It’s his story to tell. I wanted you to understand Contessa. She opened her heart, and it was broken. You could say she’s gun-shy.”

“They never married?”

“Oh no, the famiglia would never allow it. Mrs. Luciano vehemently disapproved.”

“My son…we’re happy he’s finally decided to collect a woman of worth.”

“Josie wasn’t a good Catholic Italian girl?”

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Not even close. I shouldn’t have told you what I have. If you can come up with a way to get Mr. Luciano to open up to you, that would be best. And give Contessa some time. She’s afraid.”

“Afraid that I’ll be gone? I’m young and I’m not ill.”

“Neither was Josie.”

“What is this?” Contessa questioned, entering the hallway with a tray and assessing our discussion. “Armando, you can protect Mrs. Luciano better from the first floor. I’m sure Mr. Luciano would prefer that.”

Armando nodded my direction. I cautiously turned my attention to Contessa. “Thank you for the lunch.”

She walked past me and into the bedroom. I followed, realizing that the primary suite was more than a bedroom. It probably encompassed over a third of the second floor. The outer room was a private living room and further inside was a grand bedroom with a large four-poster bed. Not to be outdone by the first level, the suite had floor-to-ceiling windows. As Contessa placed the tray on a small round table in the living area, I walked around, familiarizing myself with the walk-in closets and large attached bathroom. One door led to a private office and another to an exercise room.

Within one of the walk-in closets were stacks of boxes filled with my things from California. Our two suitcases from this weekend were standing near the bed.

Stepping out of the closet, I asked, “Do you know if Dario has made room in his dressers for my things?”

As I walked back to the outer room, I didn’t get a response.

Contessa was gone.

Instead of going straight to my lunch, I wandered about the suite, looking for a sign or clue about the mysterious Josie. Who was she? Running my fingers over the bedspread, I wondered if she’d slept in this bed and in this room.

As I sat to eat, I remembered Armando saying that Josie was deceased.

Will I be sharing my new husband with a ghost?

I also recalled him saying she hadn’t been ill.

How did she die?

Instead of focusing on this new mystery, I enjoyed my lunch. The chicken salad sandwich and grapes hit the spot. There was more apartment for me to explore, yet with my new knowledge, I had a sense that going from room to room could be interpreted as snooping or invading someone else’s space.

That was stupid.

I was Dario’s wife. Regardless of whether he’d been married or in a long-term relationship, that was in the past. I was his present and future. Contessa could take her time warming up to me. We only had forever.

Or as Dario said—now and forever.

Slipping off my shoes, I began my quest for space, space into which to move my belongings, space in a home that was now mine. There was one large dresser near the bed, each side of the bed had a bedside stand, and within the closet that I assumed was mine, there were more built-in amenities: drawers, movable shoe racks, various clothes racks, and even a large round upholstered ottoman in the middle. I soon learned that the left side of the dresser and bedside stand on the right were empty, as was the closet except for my boxes.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Dario arranged for me to have space for my things or if these spaces have remained unused since Josie’s passing. Lugging the boxes into the bedroom, I chose to dive into my project at hand.

Time passed as I put my things away.

My hands were dirty and my skin slick with a coat of perspiration by the time I made it to the final box. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I began pulling photos, photo albums, books, and journals from within. My heart ached at the pictures of my family. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, and I was missing my sister something terribly.

The time on my watch was almost six. Dario had said he’d be home for dinner, but I was at a loss for what time that would be. After checking my phone for messages and finding none, I pushed the last box into my closet, deciding to tackle the sentimental walk down memory lane for another day.

This was my first night in my new home. Going to dinner in a wrinkled sundress that I’d worn all day, didn’t seem like the right attire. In the bathroom, I turned on the shower and stripped out of my clothes. Even if dinner was downstairs in the kitchen or dining room, I wanted to be more presentable than I currently was. Within a large glass shower, under the warm spray, I realized my soreness from last night had eased. The insides of my thighs were slightly discolored and tender to the touch. That was the only outward signs of what we’d done.

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