Chapter 14: Her Terms, Again

The Lombardi house stood on the far bank of the river, behind a wall with two men on the gate.

Ruggero drove the last mile with his right hand and did not say a word.

Neither did I.

His bedroom was on the third floor, a big plain room with a dark bed and a window full of black water.

He locked the door behind us and leaned his back against it.

Blood had dried down his collar and along his jaw, and he looked ten years older than he had that morning.

"You need to lie down," I said.

"I need to say something first."

"No."

"Adriana."

"You said it all in the cellar," I said.

I took off my ruined jacket and dropped it on the chair.

"I'm not here to hear it again. I'm here because I want to be."

He looked at me for a long time.

"Terms," he said, low.

"Mine this time."

I crossed the room and took his good hand and led him to the armchair by the window.

"Sit."

He sat.

I stood between his knees and unwound the silk from his left hand.

It had stuck in places.

I peeled it back slowly, and he let me, and the broken knuckles came into the light of the lamp.

"This stays bare," I said.

"It's ugly."

"It's yours."

"I don't want you looking at it while I..."

"Then look at me instead."

I took his left wrist and set the flat of that hand against my ribs, over the white shirt, and held it there.

His fingers could not close.

They lay against me, stiff and warm, and I felt the heat of them through the cotton.

He made a sound in his chest.

"Here are the terms," I said.

"You don't move this hand unless I move it. You don't move your hips unless I say."

"And?"

"You tell me when you can't stand it, and I decide what I do about that."

"Is this for the room?" he asked, and for the first time that day he almost smiled.

"There is no room."

"No."

"There's you and me and a lock."

I unbuttoned the shirt one button at a time, and I let it slide off my shoulders.

He looked.

He looked at my breasts, at the gray at my temples, and at the soft place on my stomach where four babies had been.