Page 131 of Bitter Poetry

Maybe she did, and maybe she didn’t. Over the coming weeks, I’m betting on her finding out.

This is far from resolved. But now is not the time. Not when she’s in danger.

It’s time to get her out.

CHAPTER 39

CARMELA

It’s been five days since Cosmo: since the last threads holding my fragile existence together came unstuck. I flinch whenever Ettore comes near. Cosmo might have had a different mother, but there are still too many similarities in the way they look.

I’ve slept in the spare bedroom alone.

A small mercy.

He doesn’t seem inclined to push me, but it’s only a matter of time before he does. I can’t say with any confidence how I will react when that happens. I’ve hated my husband ever since he forced me to my knees and demanded I thank him for a gift. Not a single thing since has softened me toward him.

The doctor came by yesterday and checked my injuries. The swelling and bruising in my throat are finally subsiding. The bloodwork showed nothing, so that’s a small mercy, too. I’m healing on the outside, at least.

It’s Wednesday. The day I usually visit my mother’s grave and then my father. It’s time for me to step outside this housesaturated with bitter memories. Time to figure out how I extract myself from under this black, somber cloud.

The shower is a good start. I need it extra hot. Then, I change the small waterproof dressing on the bite mark. It’s mostly healed, but I can’t stand seeing it, so for now, the covering stays on. Then I dress, finding a high-necked sweater at the back of my dressing room, along with my jeans and a pair of Miu Miu ballet flats.

When I check my outfit in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, I find a familiar reflection. Other than the slight puffiness around my eyes, there is no evidence of the trauma lurking underneath the surface.

“I am worthy,” I say to my reflection. “I am worthy of something better than this.”

The reflection does not believe the words yet, but if I say them often enough, maybe that will change.

Ettore is in the formal dining room when I arrive downstairs for breakfast. Shock passes over his face before he schools his features, and rising, he pulls out the chair beside him for me in a gallant gesture, at odds with the man.

I don’t flinch. But I tense all over.

I tell myself it will get easier; only my definition of easier is, by any other standard, low.

Brigida bustles in with a cappuccino for me.

“Good to see you, Mrs. Gallo.” Her smile is tentative. She has been bringing a tray up to me and taking it away mostly uneaten. She also told me Cosmo was dead when I asked, and that Christian wasn’t.

“Can I get you anything to eat?” she asks.

I still hate my own name. “Thank you, Brigida. The coffee is perfect for now.”

She leaves.

I can feel Ettore’s eyes on me and an unspoken question hanging between us.

“Does my father know?” I lift my eyes from the coffee I’m yet to sip and force myself to meet his.

“Yes. But not the details. He wanted to see you. I said you were not ready yet.”

“Thank you. I feel ready today. I’d like to visit him if I may.”

“Of course. I’ll ask Christian to take you.”

My flinch is entirely involuntary. Ettore does not miss it. “You would prefer someone else?”

The question is loaded. If I say the wrong thing, my vengeful husband will kill my dark knight, and I might not survive that. But I can’t face Christian yet. Christian, who saw me at my weakest, screaming and clawing my own skin because Cosmo’s seed was on it… I draw a shaky breath. Maybe I’m not ready for this yet? “Do we have any female soldiers?”