Page 58 of The Fixer

It becomes the thing that keeps me sane.

28

ROSA

The next few days are pretty great. I don’t hear from Romeo Santini again, and slowly, the incident fades into the background. The days are busy, and the nights busier. Leo and I have a lot of sex, but it’s not just that. We’re growing closer—I’m sure of it. The roofers have come and gone, but Leo hasn’t suggested I go back to my own room.

We’re still sleeping in the same bedroom. We eat breakfast together and cook dinners in that awful kitchen, both of us swearing at the temperamental stove. We go shopping and buy some more furniture for the palazzo. We hit the antique market with Antonio and Lucia one Saturday, and the two of them help us pick art for the bare walls. “Trust me,”Lucia says with a wink. “I have a very good eye for paintings. That’s how I met Antonio, you know.”

Antonio starts to laugh. “Well, that’s one way of describing it.”

But it’s not all perfect. Leo starts to have nightmares. Bad ones, ones that cause shadows in his eyes and haunt him so badly that he doesn’t want to fall back asleep.

And he won’t talk about them.

Relationships, even fledging ones like ours, aren’t just about the good times. They’re about the hard times, too. Leo’s been there for me when I needed him more than once, but when it comes to letting me help him? Nothing. He refuses to share what he’s going through. He might have let me into his bed, but he won’t let me into his life.

It’ll come with time. Stop trying to rush it.

I can’t even talk to my friends about Leo. I can’t discuss my troubles with Ali because she’s convinced I’ve manifested a life as romantic as the fairy tales I love, and I can’t tell her the real reason Leo and I are getting married. As for Valentina, she’s not just my friend. She’s also friends with Leo, plus the two of them are co-workers. I don’t want to complain about Leo and force her to take sides.

Enough whining. The truth is, I have nothing tocomplain about. Leo is gorgeous, interesting, charming, and thoughtful. Bitching about him would be like winning the lottery and being grumpy because they gave you your winnings in the form of a giant check instead of directly depositing it into your bank account. It’s just ungrateful.

“How doyou feel about a birthday party?”

It’s two in the morning. Leo had another nightmare, and we’re in the kitchen, drinking tea and eating cookies. Well, I’m eating the cookies, and he’s brooding.

“What?”

“A birthday party. There’s usually cake, you blow out a bunch of candles, people sing?—”

“Whose birthday is it?”

“Yours,” I say patiently. “Your birthday is this weekend. How do you feel about us throwing a party?”

He looks puzzled. “Why? It’s just another day.”

I put down my tea so I don’taccidentallyspill it on his shirt. “Birthdays are a very big deal in my family.I thought about throwing you a surprise party, but I didn’t want you to be ambushed.” I give him a persuasive look. “It won’t be anything complicated. Some cocktails, appetizers, and cake, of course.”

He fixes me with a bemused look. “And you want to do this? But you’re really busy. When you’re not at the boutique, you’re in your sewing room. Why add another item to the to-do list?”

“Because I like parties. I want to get dressed up, wear hideously uncomfortable shoes, and celebrate.”

He laughs. “Principessa, from what I can tell, all your shoes are hideously uncomfortable. You don’t need a party for that.” I’m bracing for him to say no, but to my surprise, he nods. “We could have some people over,” he concedes. “Who were you thinking of inviting?”

“Your friends, my friends, my family. . . Let’s see.” I count off on my fingers. “Valentina and Dante, Lucia and Antonio, Tomas, Joao, Daniel, my parents, Hugh, Ali, Violette, Annalisa. . . Who am I forgetting?”

“That’s fifteen people if you count us,” he points out. “That’s a lot.”

“It’s just appetizers and wine.”

He gives me a fondly exasperated look. “If youwant to throw a party for my birthday, I have conditions. We cater the food, and we hire a bartender for the evening. And we’ll get Marta to come in the next day to clean up the mess.” He tilts his head to the side. “Aren’t you concerned about Ali and Tomas being in the same room?”

I grin gleefully. “Can I confess something? I’m looking forward to the fireworks.”

I’mon board with getting the food catered, but I’m determined to make Leo’s birthday cake myself. After consulting with Annalisa, I decide on a flourless chocolate cake topped with chocolate ganache and fresh raspberries and make it on Friday after he leaves for work.

It’s not nearly as complicated to make as his shirt. God, what a project that’s been. Leo’s noticed the number of hours I’ve been spending in my sewing room, but thankfully, he has no idea what I’ve been working on, and I’ve always had a decoy project around just in case he came in.

---