Selena Kitt - Letters to the Baumgarters

“Speaking of cooking, I’ve got to run to the market.” Nico stood, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. He glanced at Mason. “Take care of her while I’m gone.”

“Always.” Mason’s arm went around my shoulder, pulling me closer.

“What are you making us?” I snuggled up to Mason, watching Nico put on his jacket and shoes.

“It’s a surprise.” He smiled. “Be right back.”

“Do I have any real clothes?” I asked Mason, feeling his hand moving in my hair, stroking gently. “I can’t go around wearing your shirts all day.”

“I don’t see why not.” His hand moved over my shoulder, massaging. “You’re quite fetching in them.”

I stuck out my tongue at him. “Fetch me some clothes.”

They’d raided my flat, bringing jeans and t-shirts and sweaters. Panties and bras too. Mason had cleared out one of his drawers for me, and just seeing our clothes together in the same dresser again made my heart almost stop. That, more than anything else, gave me pause. Were we really doing this again?

I felt much better in my own clothes, joining Mason in the kitchen where he was cutting up an orange and boiling water for tea.

“Vitamin C,” he said, putting the orange in front of me with a napkin. “Nico says it will help you heal.”

“He’s a pretty amazing guy, isn’t he?” I mused, biting into the sweet, fleshy part of the orange.

“I guess he kinda is.” Mason sat at the table with me. “But you picked him, so I guess I shouldn’t expect anything less.”

I smiled, watching him get up and pour water, dunking in a tea bag, thinking about this morning. Had it really happened, or was I dreaming?

“You really scared us, you know.” Mason set the tea in front of me along with some sugar and milk. “I was afraid we might actually lose you.”

We? I thought it, but didn’t say it.

“I’m glad we didn’t.” He didn’t meet my gaze but I thought I saw a tell-tale shine in his eyes. “I couldn’t lose you too. Not after losing her.”

“You did lose me once.” I stirred my tea, thoughtful.

“Not like that.” He blinked fast. “Not forever.”

“Yeah.” I sighed.

“With you, at least I knew I had a chance.” His hand found mine under the table, squeezing. “With Isabella, there was no going back. She was just…gone.”

Now I was the one blinking back tears. “I wish she wasn’t.”

“Me too.”

“But we could have another baby.”

He looked at me, surprised. “We could?”

“The doctor said we could,” I reminded him.

“You know I’d like that.” Mason smiled. “But what about you?”

I smiled back. “I think I’d like that too.”

I thought for sure I saw tears in his eyes now, and he stood, heading toward the living room. “Drink your tea. Want to come watch football with me?”

“Soccer, you mean?” I asked, joining him on the sofa.

He scoffed. “It’s called football here in Italy.”

“You’ll be assimilated yet,” I said with a laugh.

“Well on my way, apparently.”

We snuggled on the couch until Nico came in, arms loaded with groceries. I got up to help, but both men refused to let me. They tucked a blanket around my legs on the sofa and forced me to drink more tea while they worked in the kitchen. Mason acted as sous chef and I listened with great amusement as he followed all of Nico’s orders.

“It is ready yet?” I called, taking a break from reading. “I’m starving!”

“Pazienza!” Nico snapped. “Patience, patience!”

But he brought me an antipasti, the appetizer, polop pane e olive — olives and octopus on bread. It was so good it only made my stomach rumble more loudly.

“Oh my god, what is that?” I heard Mason exclaim from the kitchen. When Nico responded, Mason stuck his head out to say, “I’ve never had octopus before.”

I laughed. “What do you think?”

“It’s amazing!”

That was just the beginning of amazing. The salad was made with wild greens and dressed with balsamic and virgin olive oil. Even Mason ate it, and he rarely ate anything green. Nico made veal scallopini so tender it melted in our mouths. We moaned so often during dinner than anyone listening would have thought we were having sex!

And of course, we drank wine. It was more homemade wine, this bottle from Nico’s sister, Anna, sweet and fruity and delicious.

“I have never had a meal this good,” Mason said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile. Nico was flushed with pride and he gulped down more wine.

“Even at Il Ridotto? ” I asked. Mason had taken me there, as promised, and the food had been just as good as the first time-although I had to admit, there was something about Nico’s cooking that set it apart somehow.

“Even there,” Mason countered, shaking his head. “Nico, dude, you need to open a restaurant. You are totally missing your calling.”

Nico shrugged, replying in English. “That requires capital I don’t have, I’m afraid. I’ve been saving, but my mother was hoping I’d spend that on a wedding.”

He looked at me and now I was the one flushing and gulping my wine.

“Listen.” Mason leaned forward, serious. “Trust me when I tell you, a man should never do what his mother wants him to do-especially just because she wants him to do it.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, but I didn’t say anything.

“You have to do what you want,” Mason urged. “Not what everyone else wants you to do.”

Nico nodded, looking thoughtful. “Maybe you’re right.”

I wanted to ask Mason who he was and what he’d done with my husband- ex-husband. But looking at Nico, I also felt like jumping up and down for joy, because Mason was right. Nico was wasting himself and his talents.

We helped Nico clean up and ate dessert-a delectable version of tiramisu that was like a food orgasm in my mouth with every bite. Both men watched me eat it with longing in their eyes. We talked for a while about food and recipes. Then Nico and Mason got into a discussion about U.S. politics and I zoned out, wandering to the living room and resuming my reading for school.

But I was still recovering, apparently, because my eyes grew tired fast and I fell asleep on the couch. When both men tried to cover me with a blanket at bedtime, I protested, reaching for them.

“Put me to bed,” I insisted.

They looked at each other, both asking, “Where?” at the same time.

Instead of responding, I showed them, taking off all my clothes and crawling into the middle of Mason’s bed. He joined me on one side, with Nico on the other, and this time, we all just slept, back to belly, me tucked safely and happily right where I wanted to be-between them both.

Dear Carrie and Doc,

I understand your reluctance to make a choice. You can only imagine my own! I think Mason wants to marry me again. And Nico… he’s clearly committed to a life with me, and I have a feeling he’d propose in a heartbeat if I gave him a hint of encouragement. What am I supposed to do? Things are getting more and more complicated by the day and I have to find a way out of this mess.

Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it, to tell you the truth. I have to tell you something, and I’m almost ashamed to admit it, even to both of you, with our history together. Mason and Nico and I… we’ve been together. The three of us. It started quite innocently, actually. I was ill (it’s a long story, but I had a problem with my IUD. It’s all fixed now and I’m better, but it was scary for a while there…) and Mason and Nico were just trying to help. I was feverish and feeling cold, and they both got into bed with me to keep me warm. Then, of course, I needed help in the shower…