Page 51

Sistine

I was not sure what time it was. It could have been very late or very early. The world around us had turned a murky shade that was making the fire sway and seem to rise higher.

A storm raged outside of the window.

Rain came down in sheets. Lightning forked through the air, and thunder barreled.

Mariano had me tucked into his side, as close as he could get me.

I should have known. He knew my fear of bad weather and was shielding me from it.

He even switched our positions so I would not be in front of the window.

I cuddled up next to him, hiding my face against his chest, breathing him in.

I almost fell asleep again, but my bladder was cramping. I must have drunk too much juice.

Sighing, I went to pull away, but he held me tighter.

“Bathroom,” I croaked. “Bad- ah .”

Mariano was about to sit up, his eyes still closed, but I kissed his chest and told him I needed a private minute to myself.

“Private minute to yourself,” he grumbled. “We’re married. That doesn’t fucking exist anymore.”

I poked him. “I am a woman. Of course I need a little privacy.”

He laughed, and it was quiet, that rasp I loved always present. “Yeah,” he said. “I have a mamma. A sister. We couldn’t even talk when they were having bathroom time.”

“Yes!” He slipped his football/soccer hoodie over my body, and as soon as he did, I rushed to the bathroom.

Bright white light shocked the room before thunder rattled the windows. I peed as though it was a race.

A knock came at the door, and I almost fell off the toilet. I was breathless. My heart racing. My palms felt as if I was looking down from an absurd height, desperate to grasp something to feel steady.

“All right, my Annie?”

“All right,” I barely got out. I hurriedly washed my hands, and when I stepped out, I ran into his chest.

“Oof!”

He had one arm perched against the frame. His hair was wild, and he was naked.

“You can always have privacy,” he said. “But not when I know you’re feeling fucking afraid.”

All I could do was nod. He leaned down and kissed me, and then, as if I was a little fraidy cat, as Atta would sometimes call Ty when he wouldn’t want to do something, Mariano walked me to my side of the bed. He kissed me again and then went for the bathroom.

I pulled the covers up, sighing. Hoping the lightning and thunder wouldn’t come again. As I always did, I tried to talk the fear down. I forced myself to look toward the window. To face my fear when Mariano was close.

All I saw was darkness, silver droplets sliding and jiggling down the pane in a mad rush. All I heard was how hard the rain was falling and the howl of the wind. I sighed, wishing I was one of those people who was lulled by storms, not unnerved by them.

Lightning lit up the storm and exposed all that was in it.

I hacked, not coughed, when a scream got caught up in the sigh I was about to release. I was not expecting it.

A man.

Right outside of the window, looking in.

He was wearing a cowboy hat and trench coat.

My body had such a violent reaction to the sight that I rolled off the bed and hit the floor with a resounding thud! I crab crawled as fast I could toward the bathroom. Mariano was barreling out of it, and when I reached his feet, he hauled me up in his arms.

“Sistine.” His tone was serious, his eyes frantic. His hair wild. Wilder than it had been.

“Some.” I took a deep breath. “Someone. Was. At. The. Window. I think.” I blinked at him, wondering if the man at the window had been a figment of my overactive imagination.

“Man or woman?”

“Man.”

He went to set me down, but I refused to let go of him. “No. Please. Do not leave me. Please.”

He was going to stash me someplace and search the area, I knew it.

Another shock of lightning then rolls of thunder shook the windowpanes again.

This time, the only man I saw was my husband. His eyes were narrowed on the window, a stone look on his face. His body had grown harder, as if he were preparing for an enemy to crash through the door at any second.

I took a deep breath. “See anything?” I whispered.

He shook his head. He said nothing as he grabbed for his gun, handing it to me.

He swiped up a T-shirt and his sweatpants, carrying us all to the second floor.

A loft faced the front door. He set his T-shirt down on an old wooden chair, me on it next.

He slipped his sweatpants on. Picked me up, sat down, and we maneuvered until his T-shirt was on. He took the gun from me.

He kissed the top of my head. “Sleep, Annie. I’m here.”

He kept me wrapped in his arms all night, watching the door, trigger finger ready if anyone entered our home.