It was all I wanted, all I ever wanted. I fell in love with Willow when I was twelve, and all these years later, she was still the only thing that did my body good. I pulled my head up to kiss and bite the flesh of her thighs and then set off on a journey. I wanted there to be a trail of bruises up Willow’s skin. I wanted the memory of me to hang behind long after tonight. I wanted her to feel it even when I wasn’t there. When I made my way back to her lips, her arms wrapped around my neck and pulled my face to hers. She licked along my bottom lip, and I opened my mouth to let her tongue journey in. A hand left my neck just long enough to snake between us, grab my rehardened self, and pop me back inside. She moaned into me, and the heat returning made me dizzy.
I wrapped my arms around Willow’s back and held her as close as I could. My body wouldn’t hold out as much for a second time, but I didn’t care. We rolled against one another, writhing our bodies into each other until an additional orgasm took each of us. We were so entwined, so laced together, that I couldn’t think straight.
“I love you,” I huffed out, not thinking.
Willow nodded. “I love you, too.”
It gave me the kind of joy that only Willow gave me, but when I opened my eyes, she was crying. My heart broke. We’d made the same mistake we kept making. It was hurting her—I was hurting her. I dragged the fingers of one hand into her head and rubbed while the other hand caressed across the nape of her neck gently. I’d helped her fall asleep this way many times before, and I knew it would be successful again. Before long, she was taking deep breaths in and out in my arms.
I could have stayed that way forever, but I’d done enough damage. I untangled myself, ignoring the way every piece of my body begged to go back, and tucked her into the bed. I knelt down on the floor, set my head on the bed, and just watched her sleep. Before I could stop them, tears of my own were running down my cheeks. I loved her so much, so much more than I thought possible. Why couldn’t I just be the man she needed? Why did I insist on hurting her? When I finally dragged myself from the room, it was on the promise never to go back. If I couldn’t be who Willow needed, I didn’t deserve to touch her ever again.
14
Willow
It was dark outside when my eyes slowly crawled open. I had no idea where my phone had ended up in Alessandro’s tirade, so I simply turned over and planned to fall asleep against him, but he wasn’t there. I sat up, saw that our clothes were still all over the room, and I noticed my jeans clinging onto the vanity by some force. Right. My phone was in my pocket. I climbed out of bed and walked over to it. I clicked the home button to see the time, ten-forty-five, but was more distracted by the picture of Alexis and me smiling from one of our trips to the park. The woman in that picture was not the woman who got so angry about Alessandro and punched Molly in the face. I didn’t know who that woman was, and I was deathly afraid of meeting her again.
Was that what my love for Alessandro made me capable of? I ducked into the master bathroom and flipped on the light. The brightness made me squint, but I wanted to take a quick assessment of the damage. I winced as I looked at myself in the mirror. I was covered head to toe in dark hickeys, and I even had a few red and welting scratch marks. All of the battle wounds I wore were from my night with Alessandro and not at all from my fight with Molly. I leaned in and took a closer look at my face, but as expected, it was scratch-free. Molly hadn’t laid a mark on me. I felt oddly proud. In a way, it was like I’d finally managed to show the entire house what I had in me. I didn’t care much what they thought about me, but they were clearly content to continue writing me off as only Alessandro’s wife. If one had to get dirty to prove they were worthy of the Varasso name, I would say requiring both Marco and Gabriel to drag me off of Molly was worthy of the title.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to be known as that kind of person, though. I’d fought incredibly hard not to be associated with the mud the Varasso name carried. I did myself a terrible disservice, letting Molly pull me down to her level, but I still couldn’t bring myself to regret it. I felt bad for accusing Molly of being delusional regarding her relationship with Luca when I knew that wasn’t true, and I might have expected that the rest of the family believed Alessandro had some mental health issues, but she had no right to weaponize it. I was glad I punched
her in her mouth, and if she talked poorly about Alessandro, I’d be happy to do it again.
I grabbed my robe off the bathroom door, wrapped it around my body, then clicked off the light and walked out. I walked out of the bedroom and into the living room, and though he was still totally naked, I found Alessandro asleep on the couch. I tiptoed as quietly as I could to the coffee table and sat down. I watched Alessandro sleeping for a few minutes. I recalled all the times in our years together that I’d done the same thing. Our history was long, and twisted, and filled with just as much love as there was pain, but I still never tired of watching him at his most peaceful. He had a cute curl to his upper lip when he slept, one that Alexis had, too. I reached out and brushed my fingers along his cheek, wishing I could stay with him forever.
I loved him so much that my stomach hurt. I ached with how much I wanted to be with him and wanted to not have this wall between us. I almost started to cry again, so I grabbed my computer off the coffee table and returned to the bedroom. I clicked through a few things, pretending that I might work, but I was uninspired. I picked up my phone and started to call Ricky, but he was probably already asleep. Taking care of the kids and Kelly as she got closer to popping, he was probably exhausted. Instead, I navigated to my friend Mira’s number. I typed her a quick text, asking if she was up, and my phone was ringing a second later—a video call.
I answered it, clicking the volume down even though Alessandro could sleep through a hurricane. Mira’s face, her brown eyes, and short brown hair appeared on my phone, and I smiled and let a few tears slip from my eyes at the same time.
“Baby,” she whined. “What’s wrong?”
I sniffled, my emotions spilling over. “Everything.”
“What’s going on?”
I told Mira the story of the past couple of days in one big, long, word vomit. I told her about yoga, and coming clean to Stacy, and Denise showing up, and the fight with Molly, and the sex with Alessandro. It wasn’t until everything was pouring out of me that I realized how much I had pent up. I kept thinking that I couldn’t afford to get emotional, to let myself get hysterical and out of control. Alessandro needed me, our family needed me, and I had to be strong, but the toxicity of holding everything in had turned my insides to sludge, sludge that I’d dumped all over Mira and was now anxiously waiting for her to help me clean up.
“I’m sorry,” I said after getting it all out.
“Don’t apologize, Fran.” Mira referred to me by my middle name, Francine, which I sometimes went by when I wanted to distance myself from my mom and the Varassos back in high school. “Geez, you’ve been going through all that, and you didn’t even text me? What have I told you about doing that?”
“I guess I just didn’t want to burden you, or anyone, for that matter.” I placed my head on my knee. “I’m having a hard time.”
“Okay, well, what are you doing now? You need a drink.”
The thought of leaving the house without Alessandro still made me uncomfortable, but the pull of being able to leave the Varasso life for a while was strong enough to trump it. “Yeah. Where?”
“Just text me your address. I’ll come get you.”
We hung up the call, and I did just that. I texted Mira the address to the Varasso estate, and then I quickly got dressed. I picked a simple t-shirt and the jeans I’d had on earlier and skipped underwear of any kind. I grabbed a jacket, slipped on a pair of sandals, and then shoved my phone charger into my purse, as my phone was only about a third charged. I quietly left the bedroom and the suite and made my way down toward the front door.
I slipped through the doors after checking in with one of Marco’s security detail stationed there and walked out into the crisp air.
“Headed out?” I looked over, and Gabriel was sitting on the front step. I winced at the dark bruise just below his left eye.
“Just gonna go grab a drink with my friend, Mira.” I stammered over my words in search of an apology. “I’m sorry for…” I pointed at where his bruise would be on my own face. “That.”
He laughed. “It’s fine. The guys have tried to teach me how to duck for years. I just can’t seem to get it.”