by Penelope Sky
My father looked down at me, hesitating before he returned the embrace. “Everything alright, tesoro?”
I nodded. “I had a nightmare last night…”
He patted my back and gave me all the time I needed. “Your mother used to have bad nightmares too. It’ll pass.”
“I know…it’s just nice to see you.” I turned away, hiding my face so he wouldn’t see the emotion in my eyes. I headed back to the bar and pulled out the bottles we would be serving that afternoon.
My father kept looking at me.
My mother watched him. “So, Griffin is working in the warehouse today?”
Father stopped staring when my mother addressed him. “Yeah. Hector called in sick anyway, so that worked out.”
“Yeah, it did,” Mom said noncommittally. “Vanessa and I will do the tastings together. Her paintings are on display, and I’m sure people will be mesmerized by them, as usual.”
Father turned around and admired the paintings he hadn’t noticed before. He walked up to them, examining with the same diligence Bones gave when he looked at my creations. Father moved his hands into his pockets and stared at them, devoting a lengthy time to his stare when he had a business to run.
I knew I shouldn’t care what anyone thought of my artwork, but my family’s opinion mattered to me. Bones’s opinion mattered to me too. Seeing my father study my work so closely filled my heart with a special kind of warmth.
He pointed to the one on the top left. “That’s my favorite of this bunch.” It was a painting of the city of Florence from the edge of the countryside. Erect and tall in comparison to the low hills, the city stood tall like a skyscraper. “I’ve seen this very view all my life, driving to town or the market…” He turned back around. “But I like them all.”
“Thanks, Father.” I smiled.
Father came back to Mama then kissed her on the cheek. “Free for lunch?”
“I’m always free for lunch. You’re the one who usually isn’t.”
“Well, I’d like to set some time aside for you today.”
She smiled. “I’ll think about it.”
He kissed her on the cheek again before he walked out.
I’d always noticed my parents’ affection since I was young. It was the kind of relationship I wanted to have with my husband someday. Little did they know, it was the exact relationship I had with the man I loved—right at that very moment.
There were a lot of guests that afternoon, all visiting from Florence to try some of the famous Barsetti wine. They ordered cheese to pair with the different varietals, and I enjoyed doing something with my time that wasn’t so isolating. When I painted, I rarely interacted with anyone else. I spent all afternoon in silence, creating pieces based on thoughts, memories, and feelings. Most artists were solitary people, and I guessed I was that way too.
But I enjoyed mingling with the tourists and locals who stopped by.
And to my surprise, people really did love my paintings.
Couples talked about their favorites, people asked about the prices, and a few even bought one before they left.
Before lunchtime arrived, I’d made over ten thousand euros.
I couldn’t believe it.
I walked over to a table with two young gentlemen who seemed to be brothers, based on the way they were causally insulting each other. I poured the wine and noticed they’d been drinking quicker than anyone else in the group. “So, which is your favorite?”
“The 2008 was great,” the one on the right said.
“2014 was better.” The one on the left was dressed in a white t-shirt with a gray blazer. He had light skin and an American accent, so it didn’t seem like he was a local. Maybe they were visiting with family. He had an indifferent demeanor, like nothing was good enough for him. “We were just at the Burtolli Vineyards. Now that’s excellent wine.”
I couldn’t care less what this jerk thought, but I didn’t appreciate the casual way he insulted the hard work of my family. “Then maybe you should go back.” I poured the wine a little too fast and purposely spilled it on the sleeve of his jacket.
“Hey.” He dotted the stain away with a napkin. “Watch what you’re doing.”
“I was.” I smiled then walked off, helping another table that actually had some manners. I spent the next twenty minutes mingling and asking where everyone was from. My mom did a great job doing the tastings because she was from America, like most of the tourists. So she had visited the places where they were from and gave people a sense of familiarity.
As the customers started to taper off for lunch, Mom left early to join my father for their date. I stayed behind and finished off the final bottles and cleaned the glasses. The two jerks from earlier were still there, and now they were staring at my paintings.
I ignored them, waiting until they finally left so I could never think about them again. I wiped off all the tables with a rag and then rinsed the glasses people had drunk from before placing them in the dishwasher. We bought all our cheeses from the local village, so everything was fresh and authentic.
“Three thousand euros?” the man in the gray blazer asked. “This looks terrible. Did a five-year-old make this?” His arms were crossed over his chest as he looked at the paintings like they were trash.
I refused to let his opinion bother me. He was just some entitled asshole.
“Yeah,” his brother agreed. “Amateur and pathetic. They had much better artwork in Milan. You know, by real artists.”
The man in the gray blazer squinted at my name in the corner. “Vanessa Barsetti…no wonder it sucks. It sucks just like their wine.” He seemed to say it loudly on purpose—for my benefit. After they thoroughly destroyed my day, they walked out and thankfully left.
Now I was finally alone…
His last words lingering in my mind.
I shouldn’t let it bother me, let it tear me down. He was just one asshole, and everyone else loved my work. I wouldn’t have sold four paintings that afternoon if I didn’t have any talent.
I kept trying to convince myself his words didn’t matter, but the fact that I had to try to convince myself at all told me his words did bother me.
Made me doubt myself.
Hurt me.
I stood at the counter with my eyes averted, making an effort to keep my breathing regular. I felt the emotion creep up on me, felt it filter through my veins. My eyes started to well up, and I did my best to keep them back. My strength waned the longer I had to fight against my reaction, because it just made me feel weaker.
I felt pathetic for letting it bother me.
Heavy footsteps sounded against the cobblestone floor. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
I looked up to see the stunning blue eyes that contained my whole world. Strong and powerful, he invigorated me with strength just by looking at me. The t-shirt he wore had been soaked with sweat around his neck and armpits because he’d been working hard in the warehouse. A line of sweat covered his brow. When he was hot and sweaty, he looked even sexier than usual.
I came around the bar and moved into his chest, feeling my lifeline right under my fingertips. He was my strength as well as my weakness. He was my rock, the crutch I leaned on when I needed it most.
His hand moved to the back of my neck, and he stared down at me, concern in his eyes.
I thought I heard footsteps again, and I feared that asshole was coming back to insult me once more. But then I realized it didn’t matter if he were…because Bones would kill him. And I wouldn’t stop it from happening.
“Baby, what is it?” His fingertips moved under my jaw, and he lifted my gaze.
“It’s stupid…”
His eyes narrowed. “Nothing you say is stupid. Tell me.”
“Well…there was this guy who came in today. He was an ass, said our wine wasn’t very good. Then he stared at my paintings and said…not very nice things. Said I sucked…like my family’s wine. I know I shouldn’t let it bother me because his opinion doesn’t matter
…but it hurt.”
His eyes softened. Instead of telling me to buck up like he normally would, he gave me sympathy. His fingertips moved across my cheek. “Your paintings represent your soul. If anyone insults them, it’s like insulting your feelings, emotions, beliefs…it’s not stupid that it hurt you.”
I turned my face into his palm, treasuring the warmth and strength.
“But he’s wrong, baby. He doesn’t possess your creativity, your beauty. And if it doesn’t exist inside him, then he can’t spot it when he sees it. His opinion is invalid. Your artwork speaks to people. I don’t know shit about art, but it’s made me feel so many things. You painted me, all of me, down to my very soul. How many people could do that?”
I watched his gaze, seeing the sincerity in his pretty eyes.
“You have a gift, baby. Soon, you’re going to have your own gallery. And one day, people are going to be auctioning off your work for millions. When you’re dead and gone, generations into the past, people will treasure your work because it captured the beauty of your life. It’ll make you immortal.” He cupped both of my cheeks, turning my face up a little more to look at me. “Don’t listen to him.”
I gave a slight nod, feeling better.
He wiped away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. “No man deserves your tears—not even me.”
My hands gripped his wrists, feeling the strength transfer from him to me. “Thank you…”
He moved his lips to my forehead and gave me a long kiss, his warm mouth resting there for a while. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. You shine like the sun. Don’t ever let anyone take away your light. A real man should never tear down a woman, but lift her up.”
“That’s what you do for me.”
He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me into the air, pulling me against his chest so we were face-to-face. “Yes, I do.”
My arms wrapped around his neck, and I pressed my forehead to his as my legs wrapped around his waist. “I love you.”
He closed his eyes as he held me, our heads pressed together. “I love you too, baby.” He held me that way for a while, letting me cling to him for comfort. Minutes passed before he returned me to the ground. “I should get back to work. I’ve got a lot of stuff to do.”
“They’re really putting you to work, huh?”
“Yep. Who doesn’t love free labor?”
I smiled at him. “Thanks for doing this…I know you have a million other things you should be doing.”
“Yes.” He rested his fingers against my chin and lifted my gaze. “But this is the only thing I want to be doing.” He gave me a soft kiss on the lips before he turned away. He held his wide shoulders with perfect grace as he walked away, his strong physique possessing a strong posture.
I watched him go until he turned the corner.
Then I heard the sound of footsteps again. I turned toward the door to see who it was. I caught a glimpse of my father’s long-sleeved black shirt before it disappeared in the crack of the partially open door. I wondered if he’d been watching that entire exchange. My father wouldn’t eavesdrop on me because he respected me too much.
But when it came to Bones, everything was different.
Five
Conway
I came around to the passenger side and helped Muse out of the car. She was five months along, and now her belly was noticeable no matter what she wore. She’d wanted to get married when she was still slim in a gown, but that didn’t seem possible anymore. She would show no matter what—but I didn’t mind at all.
The doctor said our baby was healthy.
When he said those words at his office, my throat tightened.
My son or daughter would be here in four months, and as Muse got bigger and rounder, the truth became more and more real.
I was going to be a father.
I took her hand and guided her inside my childhood home, the three-story mansion where my parents still spent their time together. Lars greeted us by the door, and then we stepped inside.
“How are you, man?” I hugged Lars. “You look damn good for a hundred.”
Lars smiled, his hands shaking a bit. “Thanks, Mr. Barsetti. The ladies always like an older man.”
I chuckled and patted him on the back.
“Sapphire, you’re looking beautiful,” Lars said. “Nothing more beautiful than a glowing woman. I remember when Mrs. Barsetti was pregnant with Conway. She’s never looked more radiant.”
“She definitely didn’t look more radiant with Vanessa, that’s for sure,” I teased.
My parents came down the stairs to greet us. My father came first, greeting Sapphire before even looking at me. “Sweetheart, you look nice.” He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. “My son has been taking care of you, right?”
“Waits on me hand and foot,” Sapphire said.
It was the truth. I wanted to make sure she was relaxed and happy. The doctor said stress could contribute to a miscarriage, and the idea scared me so much that I’d been doing everything to make sure that didn’t happen. Ironically, I didn’t want to be a father when she became pregnant, but now that her belly was big, I felt like a father without a child.
My mother greeted her next. “So beautiful.” She hugged her for a long time, squeezing her gently. “I can’t wait to meet my grandbaby. I know they’ll be so beautiful, with both of your features.”
“I’m excited too,” Sapphire said. “I can’t wait to see if it’s a boy or girl.”
My parents stared at her, watching her rub her stomach.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, hi?”
“Oh, sorry.” Mom tapped herself on the forehead. “We’re excited to see you too, son.” She hugged me.
I rolled my eyes. “It didn’t seem like it.”
“You know I love you.” She squeezed me. “I’m just so excited about the baby. We’re going to have a new Barsetti around here.”
My father came next, the usual affection gone from his eyes. There was no reason for him to be upset with me, but something was obviously bothering him. He hugged me, but it wasn’t long or deep. “How was the drive?”
“It was okay.” I didn’t ask what was really bothering him, knowing I should do it in private.
“Are you hungry, Sapphire?” Mom asked. “Lars made dinner.”
“I’m always hungry,” Sapphire said. “I used to have a small appetite, but now I can’t seem to stop.”
“Being pregnant is the best,” Mom said with a laugh. “Let’s go into the dining room.”
I turned to follow them, but my father grabbed me by the arm. “I want to talk to you alone in my study.”
We didn’t have private conversations in the study unless some serious shit had hit the fan. “What is it?”
He nodded toward the stairs, refusing to share that information with me while we were out in the open. We headed to the third floor and then stepped inside his study with the two leather couches, the paintings with buttons, and the endless supply of liquor. As per tradition, he poured two glasses of scotch.
My father had asked me to come down for a visit, but he never said why. I knew now he was about to tell me. “Enough with the anticipation.”
My father held the glass between both of his hands but didn’t give an answer. His head was bowed, slightly in defeat. “I wasn’t going to tell you any of this because I thought I could handle the situation on my own. I figured the problem would be gone almost a month ago. But since it’s not going anywhere, I can’t keep it from you. You should know what’s happening…”
I was actually scared, afraid of what my father would say. There was nothing he couldn’t fix, so whatever this was, it was big. “Tell me.”
“Alright.” He set the glass down, not having taken a drink. “It’s gonna be a big pill to swallow. It’s about Vanessa.”
My sister was the most annoying brat on the planet. She infuriated me as much as she demanded my respect. But I loved her so much, would do anything for he
r, so the second her name was mentioned, I was scared on a whole new level.
“Remember Bones? The man you saw at the Underground?”
Like I’d ever forget seeing my enemy’s son. “Yes…”
“Vanessa is seeing him.”
“Seeing him how…?” There was no way she was dating him. That was preposterous.
“Dating him,” my father said. “Seriously dating him.”
I heard every single word, but my body rejected the sentence. My spitfire sister was sleeping with the son of the man who’d damaged our lives? “Are you sure?” Vanessa was too smart to do something like that. She was too stubborn, like the rest of the Barsettis. “That just doesn’t sound right.”
He nodded. “I’m sure. She told me she loves him…”
My fingers slackened, and I almost dropped my glass. “What?”
He nodded again. “I knew she’d been seeing someone for a while, but she never introduced him to us. Your mom talked to her about it a few times and knew Vanessa was intensely in love with someone. I told Vanessa I wanted to meet him, reminded her that she’s old enough to introduce me to a man she loves. And that’s who she introduced me to…Bones.”
I rubbed my temple. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. That fucking asshole? What the hell is she thinking?”
He held up his hand to silence me. “It’s shitty. I agree. I’ve talked to her about it a lot, met with him a lot.”
“You came face-to-face with him?” I asked incredulously. “And he’s still alive?”
My father smirked. “He’s been trying to get my approval. I’ve seen him a few times for dinner and whatnot. He’s assured me he means no harm to us. He genuinely loves Vanessa. And if I don’t accept him, he won’t come between us and Vanessa…he’ll walk away.”