"Eager to change another diaper anytime soon?"
Matteo scowls at me, removing the towel from his waist, his chest still dripping water from the shower. "I don't think I'll ever recover from that."
"It's not every time. I think maybe he heard us talking about it," I say, trying to braid my hair.
"Yeah, yeah, you're just trying to see that again."
"Well, it was pretty funny."
He purses his lips, amused. "Has he done that to you?"
"Many times. I've gotten it on my face before, so don't feel too bad."
He grimaces, observing what I'm doing. He walks over to me after a moment and surprises me by taking my hair into his hands. I drop my arms, looking at him through the mirror as he begins to braid my hair.
"How do you know how to braid hair?" I ask in amazement. He smiles, glancing up at me through the mirror.
"I used to braid my mother's hair. It was down to her waist, a little longer than yours."
I smile. "What did she look like?"
He breathes in. "Everyone said I looked just like her, but I didn't see it. She had yellow hair. It looked gold in the light. Green eyes. Her skin was darker than mine too. She was beautiful. Everyone thought so. She sang too."
"Sang? Really?"
He nods. "Yes, she was rather religious, so she'd pretty much only do it around the house or at church."
"I've never heard you sing," I observe, frowning. I know he's heard me more than once. He's laughed enough at it.
"You don't want to. It's not pretty."
I hum, enjoying the feel of his hands. "I find that hard to believe. You're so musical."
He smiles and backs up, finished with the braid. I turn in place, glancing at it.
"Wow. You do know now that I'm going to ask you to do this all the time?"
He kisses my hair, turning. "I don't mind."
I take a deep breath, and twist in the chair towards him, a question plaguing my mind. "Have you ever gone back to your hometown? Do your parents have a place where they're rested?" A place where they're rested? Come on, Emma. You can do better than that.
Matteo looks up at me, his hand pausing in his drawer. "Why?"
"Have you ever been to see their graves?"
"No."
"Will you ever?"
He stares at the drawer. "Not if I can help it."
"Okay."
I don't want to poke the giant. I don't want to trigger him. I stand from the vanity, fixing the straps to my nightgown. He doesn't let it go.
"Why do you ask?"
"No reason. Just a question."
He looks disbelieving. "Just a question?"
"I wonder sometimes... if it would be healing for you."
"My therapist thought the same thing," he admits, breathing in. "I... don't think I could do it. I don't want to see headstones with their names that sit above dirt. Their bodies aren't there. They aren't there."
"I understand," I say, nodding. "I do."
It's rare to ever get him to speak about them. I don't want to push him further, especially in our fragile state. We had a good day, there's no doubting that. I want it to last. Once he's dressed, he comes to the upturned covers, sliding in next to me.
It's the first time in months that we've gone to bed at the same time.
He faces me, tucking his hands under his pillow. I turn on my side too, exhaling tiredly.
"Today... it was nice," he whispers.
I squint disbelievingly. "You were peed on so I know you're bluffing."
"Well that part sucked, but I mean, the rest of it... it wasn't bad."
I smile slowly. "Wait until he falls asleep on you. There will be no turning back."
He hooks his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. His enveloping is welcomed and unfamiliar now, something I marvel at when he's not looking, feeling giddy. His arms are strong, his heartbeat steady.
Tonight, I'll fall asleep with something I didn't have before.
Hope.
***
"Well, you're going to have to hire someone to perform that night because I can't be there... It's a private occasion... I won't budge on this or the tour, Doug. I have to be here."
The phone call Matteo has been enduring for the past hour has gone anything but smoothly. Doug is livid about Matteo leaving for the Caribbean an entire week. The fact that he's leaving the current tour after just cancelling another one doesn't help either. Matteo's been on the phone all morning, making reservations, handling all the difficult affairs. The location, hotel reservations. Meanwhile, I have been holding my phone in my hand for the entire hour, unsure as to how I'm going to call my mother.
"You're a good man, Doug," Matteo says exasperatedly, hanging up, no doubt having won the argument.
"Good news?" I ask, clutching Charles tight to my lap on the floor.
"He begrudgingly agreed," Matteo grumbles, smirking. He looks down at my phone. "Just go on and call her. I'll stay with him."
"I really don't want to," I complain.
"Baby, look at me." I do. He smiles. "This could all be cleared up with this phone call. Just go."
I take a deep breath for bravery and nod, handing Charles to him. I grimace when Charles begins to cry. "It's okay. I'll be right back."
Matteo cups his head gently, bouncing him on his arm. "Bud, stop."
He called him bud.
I retreat onto the terrace, closing the door behind me half-way. I hear Charles stop crying and turn, raising the phone to my ear, looking back into the living room to see Matteo taking off his expensive watch. He hands it to Charles, who eagerly takes it, giggling.
"Well, this is a surprise."
I whirl back to the skyline. My smile fades hearing my mother's voice.
"Mom. How are you?"
"Well, considering I haven't spoken to my own daughter in weeks, I've had better times."
I realize small talk won't be a stepping stone here. I have to go all in. "You told me that Matteo had ruined me, Mom. You literally said that because I married him."
"It was harsh, but I was just trying to explain how bad everything really was getting! Is getting! You can't see how much you've changed?"
"I married Matteo happily and yes, we took on Charles without knowing what we were going to do, but it wasn't like I was forced into that marriage. Matteo told me to leave him."
"And you didn't."
I blink. "No, of course I didn't. You've seen us together enough to know why I didn't!"
"And while you both were together, I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt even though I knew the match was no good. But I know you're unhappy! Danny told me he saw you. He said you didn't even look like yourself. He's really worried about you! I am too! He said it had something to do with Matteo. He thinks he's hurting you."
"Harriet." I hear the sharpness of my dad's tone on her line.
"HE IS NOT!" I shout. "God, why do you always have to cut him down?"
My mother growls at my father. "Jesse, stay out of it."
"No, I will not. You're out of line. Give me the phone."
I bite my lip, emotionally, shaking my head.
"Emma." It's my father.
"Why does the hell does she hate him so much?"
"Danny riled her up. She's actually been feeling pretty bad lately, Em. She misses you. She worries. Why aren't you eating? Are you sick? Danny told us to come down to see you, check up on you."
"Well, isn't that heroic of him," I mutter, regretting ever having texted him. I put this on myself. "I'm fine. Matteo and I, we're trying to deal with this big change and it's just been hard. It's really hard."
"Is he treating you right?"
"Yes, he is."
"Are you trying to protect him?"
"No. I mean it. And I called to... to tell you that we're actually renewing our vows. We're going to the Caribbean and we wanted you both to come... but I don't want you to come if you're going to be like this."
"So you'd exclude us again!?" I hear my mother shout into the phone.
"Harriet."
I shake my head. "Oh, just nevermind! I don't even know why I tried!"
I hang up, placing my hand to my head, rubbing deeply. The phone rings again but I silence it, lips trembling. I'm going to lose my relationship with my family. I feel it.
The tears fall from my eyes, gliding down my face in a rush.
"Emma..."
I shake my head, refusing to look back and let him see me unraveling. "I'm okay."
"No, you're not."
"Just make the reservations without them," I whisper, turning.
***
I hear the bedroom door open after about ten minutes. I'm sitting on the edge of the bed. I'm calm and Matteo looks relieved for it. "Charles is asleep."
"Thanks for putting him down. You've done a really good job with him these past couple days."
He sits down beside me. "He's not so bad once you get to know him. I mean, he's literally urinated on me. There's no getting closer than that."
I laugh tearfully, nodding.
He rests his hand gently on my hair, stroking it. "I'm sorry I pushed you to call them."
I shake my head. "No, it's okay. It will still be just as amazing without them."
He looks down at the ground. "I have a conference out of town. I think I told you about it last week."
I shake my head. "Really? I don't remember that."
"Yes, in Detroit. I'll have to stay overnight. Doug is punishing me and I've demanded too much to say no."
I force a smile, knowing he's trying to get on my good graces. I don't want him to destroy his career in the process. "Okay. When is this?"
"Tomorrow."
I wasn't expecting that. "Tomorrow?"
He nods. "One of our highest-paid investors will be there. Doug wants me there to convince him to continue his support. He is on the cusp about supporting the shows here in New York after hearing about the cancelling of the national tour."
"Shit."
"He's easy to win over. It'll be fine." He kisses my shoulder, gently. "Want me to draw a bath?"
I hum, tilting my head toward him. "Only if you get in with me."
***
It's in this moment that I am truly grateful that we have such a wide tub. My very large husband is between my thighs, his head rested against my breasts. I've been running my shampoo-coated hands through his locks absentmindedly for the past ten minutes and neither of us seem to care about it. In fact, his eyes are closed. I smirk, running my nails along his scalp gently and I feel him shiver.
"I've never had someone do this before."
"Really? Never?"
He shakes his head. "Not that I can remember, no."
I don't bring up his mother, not wanting to upset him. "Well, I like doing it."
"I like you doing it."
We fall quiet again as I begin to wash the suds out until his hair is dark and shiny again, hanging to his shoulders when soaked.
"Your hair is so long now," I observe, grabbing onto the ends. They curl in my hand.
"Do you like it like that?"
"I like you anyway I can get you. You are..."
"Grotesque?" he questions, sarcastically.
I chuckle, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, resting them flat against his stomach. "Impressive."
I literally hear his grin. "I like that."
"I'm sure you do." I squeeze him tighter. "I find it hard to think of anything else but you."
The admission slips from my lips so easily, momentarily shocking me. It's been so long since I've vocalized my feelings for him, since I've wanted to.
He clasps onto my hand. "You know who I got a call from the other day?"
"Who?"
"Casey."
"The guy from the diner?"
He chuckles. "He saw a picture of us in the paper."
"There's a picture of us in the paper?"
"Apparently so. He said he knew you were it."
"It?"
"Yeah. He said he knew I was going to marry you."
"We were fighting the entire time we were there," I remember, laughing.
"That's what I said."
I fall silent, thinking back to that day... the first day he kissed me. So much has changed since then. He has changed considerably. I never thought he'd open up to me at all, let alone date me. And here we are, married. We may be still figuring out how to be spouses, but we are married.
"What are you thinking?"
"Just how much everything has changed."
He remains quiet for a moment. "Do you miss the way things were?"
I rest my cheek against his head. "Not usually. But, sometimes I do."
"It was... easier then."
"You weren't," I point out, which makes him laugh.
"Are you claiming I'm easy now?"
I scoff loudly and he turns, splashing water over the side of the tub, reaching for me.
"I could show you easy if you'd like," he says, placing his mouth over mine with a wide grin.
I nod, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Be my guest."