Selena Kitt - Letters to the Baumgarters

“Oh I don’t know.” I sighed, sitting up and searching for my clothes.

“I would.” Mason sat too, watching me get dressed. “Put me in a cage with him. We’ll fight to the death. Or perhaps you’d prefer jousting? Or Russian Roulette?”

“Very funny.” I slipped my bra on, doing up the hook in front. “This is impossible.”

“No it’s not.” He watched as I pulled on my blouse, working the buttons. “It’s just a decision. Me or him.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to pressure me?” I snapped, sliding my skirt up my hips and reaching around, trying to work my zipper.

“Am I?”

I stopped. “Mason, I’m afraid.”

“Come here.” He turned me around so he could zip my skirt. “Of what?”

“If I choose you…” I glanced back over my shoulder at him. “Well, we didn’t get divorced for no reason, you know.”

He smiled. “Yes, I know.”

“Are we just going to pick up where we left off?” I turned in his arms, trying to see the truth in his eyes.

“No,” he assured me. “I’m different. You’re different.”

“You’re still so tied to your family.” I sighed. “This is your father’s business you’re talking about, not your own.”

“But I’m making my own decisions.” He looked at my blouse, frowning, and started rebuttoning it. I’d missed one. “Trust me, they didn’t want me to come here. They still don’t want me to be with you.”

“No?” I imagined that was true. They’d never liked me. I was a bad influence on their son.

“But this is me, making my own decisions.” He looked up at me, his eyes serious. “I choose you. I want you. That’s why I’m here.”

I smiled. “I knew it wasn’t just business.”

“Hardly.” He pulled me down into his lap and I straddled him as he kissed me, slow and deep, the smell of our sex redolent in the room. I’d missed us together, so much. Thinking about it brought tears to my eyes.

“What about Isabella?” I asked, swallowing past the obstruction in my throat.

“What about her?”

I blinked back tears. “Don’t you miss her?”

“Of course I do.” His arms tightened around me. “She was my daughter too.”

I closed my eyes, feeling tears slipping down my cheeks. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.”

“I don’t know if you’re supposed to.” Mason cupped my face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe my tears. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t move forward.”

“Oh god, please don’t talk about more babies,” I groaned, trying to twist away from him. “Not that again.”

“Us, Dani.” He turned my face to him again, meeting my eyes. “ We can move forward, you and I, together. Babies can be a part of that or not. But I want you. You.”

I contemplated the idea. “What would we do?”

“Anything you want.” He smiled, wrapping his arms back around my waist. “You’ll be done with school in June. You can find a job here in Italy. Work here, stay here. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You don’t know a word of Italian.”

“I’ll learn.” He nuzzled my belly, rested his head against my breasts. “Ti amo.”

I love you.

I looked down at him in wonder, running my hand through his short-cropped hair.

“See, I’m already learning.” He grinned up at me.

“It sounds too good to be true,” I murmured. “What would you do?”

“I’ve got the business,” he reminded me. “In spite of my father’s reservations, I think branching out all over Europe is a brilliant idea, even if it is mine. And I think it’s going to be very lucrative.”

“I can’t believe this is you talking,” I said doubtfully. “I can’t believe it’s real.”

“It’s me. I’m real.” His eyes told me everything I wanted to know. “And I do love you.”

“I love you too,” I whispered, kissing him softly. “I always have.”

I slid off his lap, heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” he called.

“To pee.” I stopped in the doorway, suddenly dizzy, leaning against the wall.

“Are you all right?”

I nodded, opening the door. “Just overwhelmed.”

“Hurry back,” he called. “I want your ass one more time before you go.”

I grinned over my shoulder at him. “You are a bad, bad man.”

“I know. Hurry back.”

“Can you see yourself doing this for the rest of your life?” I asked, watching Nico navigate the gondola through the narrow passageway.

“Being with you?”

I smiled. “No, being a gondolier.”

“Honestly?” Nico looked across the water, his hat shading his eyes. “No.”

I sat forward in my seat. “So what do you want to do?”

He hesitated. “You’ll laugh.”

“No I won’t,” I assured him. “I promise. If you tell me… I’ll tell you something. Quid pro quo.”

“A secret?” Nico slowed the gondola, wrapping a rope around a nearby post.

“Yes.”

“I want to be a chef,” he confessed, stepping off onto the dock, reaching for my hand and helping me up. “I want to own my own restaurant, like Gianni Bonaccorsi.”

His response thrilled me. “You’d be a wonderful chef.”

“Do you mean that?” He took my hand as we walked the cobblestone toward the flat he was sharing with Mason.

“Of course I do.”

He looked down at me, speculative. “I’ve been saving a long time to open my own restaurant.”

“You should do it.” I squeezed his hand.

He sighed. “It’s hard to do something like that and still pay the bills in the meantime.”

“But if it’s your dream, you should do it anyway,” I urged as we took the stairs in his building up.

Nico unlocked the door, changing the subject. “So tell me a secret.”

“Is Mason home?” I asked, hesitating in the doorway. He’d already told me he wouldn’t be there, but I wanted to be sure.

“No.” He tossed his keys on the table. They had a flat full of furniture now. “He had business. And we have an understanding.”

“Do you tie a sock on the doorknob?”

He laughed, reaching for me. “So tell me something.”

“I’m a man in a woman’s body,” I confessed, putting my arms around his neck.

“Now I know that isn’t true.”

“I’m a woman who wants a man’s body,” I murmured, pressing my breasts against his chest.

“Well, that I believe.” He smiled, his eyes lighting up. “But you’re not getting out of it so easily. Tell me something real.”

“Something real…” I pulled away from him, wandering around the flat. Mason had come with practically nothing, so the apartment spoke more of Nico’s tastes, which meant a more classic Italian design. “I can’t think of anything.”

“You promised,” he reminded me, taking my hand and leading me to the sofa. “You’re such a mystery.”

“You want to know something real about me?” I asked, letting him pull me onto his lap.

“Yes.”

“Okay…” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. “I had a baby. With Mason.”

He was quiet for so long I had to look.

“And where is this baby?” he finally asked.

“She’s…” I blinked fast, looking away, and whispered the word. “Dead.”

“Ah bella…” He took a deep breath, taking my hand in his. “This explains so much…”

I gave a short, sharp laugh. “Her name was Isabella.”

“Oh no. All this time…” His eyes widened, his jaw dropping. “No wonder you didn’t want me to call you bella! I’m so sorry.”

He turned my palm over, kissing it repeatedly.

“She was stillborn.” It was so hard to talk about it, even now, but another part of me felt relieved to be sharing it-sharing her. “I was thirty-eight weeks pregnant. Almost full term.”