"I gave you my heart; I just didn't expect to get it back in pieces."
~Unknown~
Sophie
*Unedited*
I was his from the first time our eyes met, the first time he touched me, the first time he kissed me, that first time he made love to me. I was his not for any one particular reason but for the many ways he made me feel even without trying. I was his without a doubt. But when he said he loved me in that sexy voice of his, in a soft whisper in my ear, in his language which I did not understand at the time, I knew he was mine as well.
Mine
Few days after Raphael whispered he loved me, he came in and said he'll love to take me to Rio for Christmas. I just about jumped out of my skin, running into his arms, excited to finally get a chance to go to one of the world's exotic cities.
I felt bad because going to Rio with Raphael meant I wouldn't be home with my grandma for Christmas. I had to call her and probably break her heart.
We had our own Christmas tradition—nana and I. One we started on our first holiday together.
It involved waking up early, sitting on our doorstep side by side, sipping tea, watching our neighbors running up and down in preparation for their own holiday preparations.
The best part about sitting on those steps was the many times we heard merry Christmas said to us.
It took me a long time to believe that my father was never coming back, and if he was, it wasn't going to be any time soon. That was as comforting as nana telling me if he did happen to come back, he wouldn't be taking me with him.
She couldn't allow it.
As comforting as that was, I knew my frailty nana wasn't a match for my much more overweight father.
Dialing her number, hoping she had it on her this time instead of leaving it in her bedroom as she did most times.
Luckily she answered after a few rings.
'Hey nana'
Her answer was a very unbecoming shriek, and I told her so. She was glad to hear from me; I felt it, heard it in her voice.
We talked for a while; she asked me how I was doing after the miscarriage, was Raphael taking care of me? I said I was doing alright, and yes, Raphael was taking very good care of me.
"He loves you, you know?"
I heard that, and my heart stilled like it did every time I heard it or imagined that Raphael loved me.
My grandmother was a perceptive woman; hearing her say that warmed my heart to the core. Those words also meant that Raphael had loved me before I miscarried.
I wished I could ask him, but mostly I wished he could tell me the words.
I say the words to him every time, even when he is asleep beside me, knowing fully well, he might not hear them, or silently when he is sitting beside me, his thigh touching mine, or when he hugs me tight, or when he is making love to me.
Why couldn't he?
I heard her shout hello to someone, and I knew she was seated on the pouch facing her blooming roses, a cup of tea beside her feet.
I hated the thought of her alone and lonely.
"You sound a little sad honey, what is going on?"
"I'm not sad for me; I just hate that I'm about to tell you I won't be home for Christmas this year" My breath hitched, imagining how she must feel. Abandoned, most likely.
How selfish was I to allow my grandmother to have Christmas alone? Was I that ungrateful?
"Don't you worry about me, child? I won't be alone. Mrs. Murphy and I are hosting the women from our bridge game" she sounded almost excited, but I knew she would miss me, probably more than I will miss her, and that thought brought more bout of guilt.
"Are you sure you'll be okay? I could tell Raphael no."
"No to what?" she asked. Her antennae were up, fishing for some exciting gossip to tell and brag to her friends.
Oh, nana, if only you knew!
But I did indulge her, "he is taking me to Rio de Janeiro," I told her, listening to her little excited giggles. She sounded like a teenager on the verge of her first date.
"Well, that's wonderful, honey; enjoy yourself and do not worry about me."
I hesitated. I wanted to ask her about my mother, the only forbidden topic in my grandmother's house. She was a sore spot, especially to her. I got up, walking around the room, my right hand holding the phone while the other held tightly onto the inner curve of the elbow.
I could feel my heart thudding, my hands shaking a bit, my courage deflating.
I closed my eyes briefly, asking nature for some little strength. "Nana, please tell me about her," I whispered. A blackening silence descended, sucking in the joy, the laughter, and the giggles that had been present a few minutes ago. I heard a heavy sigh, sounding more like defeat; at least she did not pretend not to know who 'she' referred to; that was a good sign.
The fact that I had the courage to raise this particular request confirmed that sometimes distance is a charm. I've only asked about my mother twice in my entire life, and both times I was met with nana's disapproval, silence, or rebuke.
I held my breath as I waited to hear what she had to say. It felt like I waited for years before she said, "Spend the new year with me; I will tell you everything you need to know about her, and probably some you don't have to know but need to."
I exhaled loudly, so loud she chuckled. "You're a grown-up woman now, ready to raise a family of her own. You're entitled to know who your mother was"
I sniveled, tears shimmering in my eyes, relief washing through my entire body. She was right; I was entitled to know about her. I needed to know where I came from, answers to questions my children might ask someday.
"Thank you, nana."
"You probably won't feel the same when you hear what I have to say" I shook my head before I realized she was on the phone and couldn't see me.
"I'm proud of you, Sophie."
That broke me. Tears sliding my face; I couldn't speak. My nose felt suddenly congested, my throat full it was impossible to swallow.
"Thank you," I said in a broken voice. "I'll call you on Christmas morning," ending the call before I manage to say I loved her, but I hoped she knew.
It was five days to Christmas; I had to pack for Raphael and me. I knew he would say Flora should do it, but I wanted to.
It would take my mind off the imminent conversation that I now knew will happen at the beginning of next year; two weeks away, I had to prepare myself emotionally for it.
Walking into my closet, I pulled all the outfits I knew I would need, jeans, skirts, and a few dresses, and two of Raphael's shirts.
I needed to stop wearing them, but damn it, they felt comfortable.
I also packed shoes which included flats, heels, and two pairs of canvas.
I didn't pack much for Raphael because I knew he had clothes in Rio, it's his house, just like Italy— he would have clothes there too.
Rio was more beautiful than I could ever have imagined. It was so lovely and sunny. I found myself wishing I could live there full-time, but Raphael said it wasn't always that sunny.
I spent the following day working out a menu for Christmas. Writing down a shopping list and making sure everything I needed was available.
I called nana and Gabs to wish them a merry one. Missing both so much, but still looking forward to my first Christmas with Raphael.
"What are you doing?" Raphael asked; he was leaning against the door, his arms across his chest, a smile lurking on his lips.
He took my breath away.
"I'm making a Christmas menu and writing down a list of ingredients I will need to make the best Christmas meal. It will knock your socks off."
I said, glancing at him, watching him walk towards me.
He sat beside me, pulling out my IPad from my hands. I saw him bit his lip, a small scowl appearing on his forehead "why do we need all this? It's just the two of us."
"No, it's not. Romano and Bruno will be here later tonight, which means you and I have to find a store to buy everything I've listed down there" I poked at the back of the IPad gently, chuckling at the surprise on his face.
"No, they're not coming."
"Yes, they are. I invited them yesterday. Bruno was so excited he added something to the menu. To be honest, I owe him one meal.
"Why and how do you owe him?" I leaned in, kissing his lips before rushing to the bathroom.
"I need twenty minutes to get ready."
"I can't believe I'm about to go grocery shopping. Are you sure whatever you need is not available in the fridge?"
"Raphael, you're taking me shopping; stop being such a grouch about it!"
I shouted. I heard him murmur something, but I was so excited I didn't care.
I wore a yellow floral print wrap dress that showed my legs and sandals. Raphael gawked at me, his eyes slowly taking me in.
I felt gorgeous and wanted. It didn't escape the both of us that I did not wear or feel the need to wear Raphael's shirt.
I picked my pulse, and Raphael followed closely behind me, grunting under his breath.
I skipped like a little child furthering my distance between Raphael and me, but I still heard him chuckle.
A helicopter gleaned from the helipad on a little hill from the house. Two men stood beside it, looking dangerous and unapproachable.
I stood a few meters away from the hill, waiting for Raphael to catch up with me.
He did. Scooping me up into his arms, making me squeal in surprise.
I put my arms around his neck, dropping small kisses on his face.
"It's Christmas, sweetheart, lighten up!" I whispered to his ear. I felt the vibration of laughter from his stomach.
"Sweetheart. I kinda like that," he murmured, and I hid my face on his neck.
While I wanted Bruno and Romano to be with us, I didn't want anyone else I didn't know springing up on me, and I told Raphael so.
"Bruno and Romano are your families, which makes them my family too. But you can't invite any of your dangerous-looking men to a family-oriented holiday."
"Actually," he said, pausing to look at me, "Father Jośe says Christmas should be a giving holiday. Give to those who don't have, eat together with the less fortunate."
"Father Jośe is in the business of giving," I squatted, pulling a can of spice from the last shelf. My leg hitting another woman who was hunched beside me, I apologized, looking briefly at her. Suddenly we were chatting, exchanging Christmas tips, laughing and mocking the people doing last-minute shopping, including ourselves.
It was fun, even though Raphael kept glowering at me.
"It's sweet of your husband coming with you," she mumbled wistfully. I should have disabused her of that notion, but it felt so perfectly right to imagine I was Christmas shopping with my husband.
"He hates every second of it," I said instead, which was true. Raphael resembles a caged animal. Standing close enough to me but far enough not to be included in any decision-making on which spice or flour we should buy.
He was so miserable, but I couldn't stop myself from messing up with him a little bit.
"Raphael, which flour do you think would make the perfect dough for bread?" his impatient groan brought a secret smile to my face.
"I don't care, but you better figure it out within the next ten minutes. After that, I will forcefully carry you out of here if I have to."
I frowned at him, then smiled apologetically to my new friend, who was openly staring at him as he dropped something suspiciously small into my shopping cart.
"What is that?"
He shrugged, and I narrowed my eyes at him, but he ignored me. My new friend was awed by Raphael; her eyes still fixed on his face. I wanted to ask for her number, but I didn't think my life with Raphael would allow me, new friends.
A life in organized crime was very particular. I was limited to how much outside interaction I could have, but I was glad to know I would always have Gabs.
Christmas morning was interesting; even Bruno was awake for breakfast with the rest of us.
I cooked scrambled eggs, pancakes, and coffee for the guys.
The four of us are sitting at an elegant kitchen table.
By the time I served the food slightly after 2 pm, we were all hungry again.
Bruno wittily narrating their past Christmas. In bars, clubs hotels around the world.
I wasn't envious because even though I hadn't visited most of the countries these guys had, I always spent Christmas at home, surrounded by love and good food.
My phone chimed, indicating an incoming video chat. I opened it, and my heart broke the third time since I met Raphael as I watched him grope a blond woman in a skimpy skirt.
"You didn't tell me you preferred blonds" I felt my voice choke, tears dropping on the table. I couldn't stop them; I tried. I hated to cry in front of the three of them because I knew they will always take his side.
I saw his hand reaching for my phone. He cursed loudly, so did Bruno.
I ran outside, ignoring his voice as he called after me.