21

In the months following our engagement, I had dreaded our wedding night.
Now it seemed naive that the mere act of sex had given me such trepidation. Sharing a bed with Alessio was the least of my struggles. Settling this family, making it my family in some way, was the hardest challenge I could imagine.
Looking at Alessio’s exhausted and wary eyes, I promised myself to master it.
Alessio
Discomfort buzzed under my skin. Gianna peered at me calmly, thinking she knew everything.
That was the advantage of youth: believing you knew how the world worked and convincing yourself that you could shape it to your own ideals.
Soon she would realize that ideals were just adolescent nonsense.
“Come on,” I sneered, not wanting to take the frustration of the past few months out on her.
In the end, it was my fault for allowing this marriage, for thinking that an eighteen-year-old girl could be a wife and mother.
The idea that Gianna could become Gaia 2. 0 turned my stomach.
Gianna opened her mouth as if to say more, but I gave her a warning look.
She should have learned when to shut up. She tightened her lips but remained silent. I took her to Daniel’s room first. I opened the door but did not turn on the lights. Daniele’s bed was empty.
“Where is he?” Gianna whispered, worried, as she crossed the room toward the bed.
My heart clenched. Turning on my heels, I walked out and started down the hall. Footsteps followed me and Gianna appeared at my side.
“Alessio?” I said nothing; I couldn’t. The door to the last room on the left was ajar as I knew it would be. I opened it. The filtering light illuminated the small figure of Daniel on the huge king-size bed. He was curled in on himself over the comforter, half-covered by his own blanket.
I took a deep breath, hating the guilt that shriveled my insides. Anger at Gaia was an emotion I could handle better.
I could feel Gianna’s eyes on me, the myriad questions she wanted to ask. In the silence of the room even her unspoken words frustrated me. She took a few hesitant steps toward Daniel.
My hand sprang out, gripping her upper arm with more force than expected. She winced, looking at me in a hurt way that had nothing to do with my hard grip. I let go of her immediately, then pushed past her and headed for the bed. For a moment I looked at my son’s tear-streaked face.
He was only two, three years old in a month, an age when tears were still okay.
Soon they would be no more. I bent down and picked him up carefully, trying not to wake him. Every time I did, he would squirm and start crying again.
He did not wake up, however. His little head rested on my chest as I cradled him against my body, with the blanket wrapped around him.
Gianna followed me without a word as I left the bedroom and took Daniel back to his room.
I placed him on the bed, covered him, then lightly stroked his hair. Hearing Gianna watching me through the door, I straightened up and walked toward her. She took a step back so that I could close the door. Gianna peered at my face, with an expression full of compassion. “Does he always come into your bedroom at night?”
“It’s not mine,” I insisted.
“It’s Gaia’s. I sleep in the master bedroom.”
“Oh.” Confusion shone through Gianna’s face. “Didn’t you share the bedroom with your late wife?” I gritted my teeth, trying to stifle my anger and, worse, that heavy feeling of sadness. “No.” I headed toward Simona’s room. Gianna hurried behind me. She couldn’t drop it. She was too curious.
“Why don’t you want to share a bedroom?”
I cast a dirty look.
“No. Because Gaia didn’t want to share a bed with me. Now stop with the questions.” My voice was harsh, threatening, a tone intended for soldiers that I regretted, certainly not for my wife. I turned away from Gianna’s hurt expression.
My grip on the doorknob was crushing me as I opened the door. Without waiting for Gianna, I crossed the room and headed for the crib. Simona slept soundly. Some of the darkness in my chest lifted, never quite though. I could not even remember a time when my thoughts had not been dominated by darkness. I stroked my daughter’s chubby cheek with my thumb, then bent down and kissed her forehead. I was on my way out when Gianna spoke.
“What about the baby monitor?”
I froze. She was right. That night was the first time Sybil or one of the maids had not stayed overnight. They had always taken the monitor during the night.
Simona’s cries had still woken me up, and she had calmed down only when I comforted her.
Back at the crib, I grabbed the monitor from the cupboard. When I returned to the hallway and closed the door, I said, “How did you know?”
Gianna shrugged her shoulders. “I read about baby monitors, and when I saw it there, I thought we needed it.” She bit her lip.
“You’ve never carried it with you before?” I stared at the small device.
“No. Gaia or Sybil used to keep it at night…” I trailed off and handed the monitor to Gianna. She took it with a slight frown.
“It should pick up the smaller sound, but unless Simona starts crying, there’s no need to get up.”
Gianna merely nodded, saying nothing when I realized she wanted it. I was glad for her silence. I nodded down the hall.
“Let’s go to bed. I have to get up early, and Simona will probably wake us up a couple of times tonight.” I walked Gianna toward the master bedroom, wondering how long she would like to sleep there before moving to one of the guest rooms.
I turned on the lights and motioned Gianna to come in. She walked past me into the vast room.
She looked around in curiosity. Her three suitcases waited by the door of the walk-in closet.
“I told Sybil you probably want to put your clothes away yourself.” “Yes, thank you. That way I’ll know where everything is,” she said distractedly as she made her way to the window, peering out.
It was too dark to see much but the general outline of the gardens. She looked petite and I had to resist the temptation to approach her and touch her shoulders. She had to accept my closeness last night, but I would not force it on her again.
I cleared my throat, causing Gianna to turn away. Her gaze fell to the dark wooden king-size bed on the left. Her expression stiffened slightly.
“I’ll get ready,” I sneered and headed for the private bathroom. I wasn’t even sure what had rattled me tonight. I had been wrapped up tightly for almost a year now. It was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress the flow of emotions.
Only once had I vented my frustration, and it had felt good, so fucking good. It had come to this, in the end it had cost my children their mother. Trying to stop this dangerous line of thought, I began brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed.
A bed I would have to share with another woman who did not want me.