Chapter 5: Glass

Ettore drove her home from the parish hall himself, with the window cracked and one hand on the wheel.

He said nothing the whole way.

Twice she saw his eyes drop to the purple marks on her wrist.

Both times his jaw moved, and he looked at the road again.

In the kitchen Zia pressed a cold cloth on the bruise and muttered in Italian about what should be done to the youngest brother.

"I'm fine," Cecilia said. "Let me help with supper."

"You're a guest."

"I'm a baker. Give me something to do with my hands."

Zia studied her, then pushed a heavy glass baking dish across the counter.

"Lasagna. Layer it. Don't let my nephew see you work, he'll think he has to apologize."

Cecilia laid the first sheet of pasta.

Her left wrist throbbed, and when she shifted the dish to the counter's edge her fingers slipped.

The dish hit the tile and exploded.

She caught at it, and a long piece of glass opened her right palm from the base of the thumb to the wrist.

Blood ran onto the floor, bright and fast.

"Madonna," Zia said. "Ettore!"

He was there before the second word.

He took one look, said, "Sit," and steered her into a chair by the kitchen table with a hand on her shoulder.

Then he took the hand away.

"Terms," Cecilia said, through her teeth.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine." Her palm was throbbing. "I mean, just do it. I can't do it myself."

He brought the first-aid box and a pair of tweezers and a lamp.

He sat on the chair across from her and turned her hand over in his.

Keep reading free with an account. Start The Ex-Wife He Lost Forever from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.