Page 39 of The Convenient Cosentino Wife

Rocco walked Adriano and Clare through the garden, on paths, and off, explaining to Adriano that he was not to go near a pool or fountain without an adult, and that if he wanted to go for a swim, he only had to ask and he’d be taken to the beach or the pool. He crouched down in front of the boy, hands on his shoulders. “Your mama loves you and we must not make her worry. When we love people, we take care of them, yes?”

Adriano nodded somberly. “Sì.”

“Good.” Rocco kissed his forehead then added, “Remember, family always takes care of each other, and you are a Cosentino.”

Adriano looked even more serious and nodded again.

Rocco rose and they finished their tour of the gardens but Clare found herself replaying Rocco’s words.Family always takes care of each other.

And they were family. Rocco and Clare and Adriano.

She’d become a Cosentino at last, even though it hadn’t been the way any of them had expected, but Marius would approve. He’d be glad that Rocco was there with them, for them, glad that Rocco had stepped up when Clare and Adriano were on their own.

Making love with Rocco was better than good. It answered a need that she hadn’t even known existed, healing the broken pieces of her. Rocco’s body, crisscrossed with scars, echoed the scars she carried on her heart, scars she’d had since a child whose world had been upended when her parents had gone through a terrible divorce, and then her mother’s death, followed by an exile to Europe where she wouldn’t be in the way anymore. Rocco made love to her as if she were perfect and beautiful, and in his arms, she became almost perfect and beautiful. The hollow aching sensation in her was filling and fading. She slept better, she ate better, she felt better about everything, including the future.

Especially the future.

Before they made love, Clare had thought it would take them weeks to become comfortable with each other, that intimacy might feel awkward at times, and that they’d probably leave the heat of the bedroom in the bedroom and function like colleagues out of it.

She was wrong. Rocco was sensual and sexual night and day. She felt him even when they weren’t in the same room and the connection was intense, and constant, the desire always there.

It was almost like being born again, born into this different body, born into this new life. Clare had never cared that much about sex. She’d enjoyed it, but it hadn’t been earth-shattering, not in the way making love with Rocco was shattering. With Rocco it was such a fierce, physical coupling that afterward she felt raw and naked and, oh, so very vulnerable. But Rocco always held her, and reassured her that she was the most glorious thing in the world, and he made her believe it. Made her believe she was safe. She’d hired Gio to keep her and her son safe, but he was hired, he was paid to protect. Rocco vowed to protect her with his life.

And she knew he would.

In a matter of weeks she’d come to trust him in a way she’d never trusted anyone.

With Rocco she felt safe to explore her boundaries, safe to feel everything, and when something was too much, she could tell him and he never questioned her, or pressured her, or made her doubt herself in any way.

It was amazing how they’d married for Adriano and yet the marriage was proving to be her salvation. She would have never dreamed that Rocco could be so patient and good with her, or so loving and devoted to her. Time and again he went out of his way to please her, and pleasure her, and also give her space to process emotion her way.

With time, she could be happy with him. Very happy. As happy and content as if it had been a love match.

Everything on the island was easy; life was easy, the days relaxed. Neither Clare nor Rocco were at computers or taking phone calls. They’d both agreed to unplug from the world and put business on hold. It was a much-needed break, one that Rocco was grateful for as it gave him time to just relax and be with Clare and Adriano. Being with them, both of them, felt right, and normal. The three of them were a family, his family.

Rocco could see Marius in Adriano, but he could also see Clare. Adriano was very smart, as well as perceptive, and Rocco looked forward to their morning walk each day, going out after breakfast just the two of them to walk on the beach and see if they could find shells and look for fish swimming in the shallow water near the beach.

It was during this time that Rocco would tell Adriano about his father, Marius, and how good and loving he’d been, a friend to many, and a wonderful much loved younger brother. One day on their walk, as they bent over to look at a little crab digging down into the sand, Adriano asked if he would be a brother.

“Do you want to be a brother?” Rocco asked him.

“Yes,” Adriano answered. “A brother like you. The big brother.”

Rocco’s chest squeezed, too aware that he had failed his brother, that Adriano should aspire to more. Rocco knew he was no hero. “You want to be like your papa,” Rocco said. “Your papa was the best man I knew.”

Adriano began walking again. “But I want to be like you,” he said after a minute. “My new papa.” He glanced up at Rocco, eyes squinting against the sun. “Papa Rocco.”

Nothing more was said, but later during dinner, Adriano called Rocco Papa during the meal and he heard Clare inhale, and saw her expression. She was surprised, but didn’t seem angry. Curious more than anything.

“I am yourzio,” Rocco gently corrected.

“And my papa.” Adriano gestured across the table. “Papa and Mama.”

Rocco opened his mouth to protest, but Clare put a hand on his arm. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “You are his father now. It’s why we married.”

“I don’t want him to forget his real father,” Rocco answered as quietly, deeply conflicted because he loved Adriano and he’d raise Adriano as his son, but at the same time, the only reason Rocco was here was because Marius was gone.

Clare’s gaze met his and held. “You are his real father now. No matter what happens, you have made a commitment to him. A commitment to us.” Her hand was still on his arm, and she slid her fingers over the back of his wrist, to take his hand in hers. “I’ve searched my heart and I truly believe Marius wouldn’t mind.”

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