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insignificant. But it wasn’t. No moment
has been insignificant with you. Nothing too small. Nothing has been meaningless.” He pointed towards the hall. “Before I even
reach the driveway when I return home my hands tremble because I remember that
they can touch you freely now. I don’t have to curl my fingers into my palms
and shove them into my pockets with you. I don’t have to make sure I don’t
stare for too long when we’re in the same room. I can look at you,”— Sansone shook his head and laughed softly—“I can look
at you.” Stopping, he speared her with that stare and held her eyes. “That was
all I’d ever wanted. You’re all I’ve
ever wanted.”
    He lifted his arms in a shrug and spread them wide.
“You’re enough for me. You’re more than enough. If you’re to be the only blessing my unfaithful Catholic heart
experiences in this life and the one following, I know now that I was not
cheated. Ti amo più di quanto si potrà mai comprendere . And you need to know that it won’t
change twenty years from now. Or forty. Or sixty. Or seventy. It won’t shift
when I can’t stand anymore. It won’t be forgotten when breathing is hard. Or
when my grip on your hand isn’t as strong as it used to be. I am so
ridiculously, terrifyingly, exhaustingly in love with you Nyssa Sidra
Blackwell-Sultana and it will be that way until the end of time; baby or no.”
    She gazed at him, silent and still, for the longest
stretch. When Nyssa finally opened her mouth to speak, a sob came out.
     
     
    Er … not his first
choice of a reaction but since there was no cursing following the flow of tears,
or things being thrown at his head, Sansone considered
himself safe enough to venture into dangerous territory. A quick shuffle of his
feet took him to the edge of the bed where he slid his arms beneath and around
his wife, shifting her onto his lap.
    “ Dimmi ,” he
demanded quietly.
    She shook her head.
    “Nyssa—”
    “Just…stay here?” she asked in a small voice. “Stay
here with me?”
    She sounded almost broken and it made him pull her in
closer, hold her tighter. He pressed his face to her hair and nodded. “Whatever
you want.”
    “I want you,” his wife told him. “I want you and I
want to go to Moorea . I want normalcy again. I want
to stop feeling like…” She abruptly cut the sentence off.
    Sansone lifted his head.
“You want to stop feeling like what?”
    Nyssa buried her face into his chest and hid from
him. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
    She wasn’t talking to him again. “ Cara—”
    “When do we leave?” she questioned. There was no
doubt that she was trying to distract him.
    He could have pushed. He could have backed her into a
corner and forced her to voice whatever it was that made her shake in his arms,
but decided against it. Sansone wouldn’t get it out
of her here. However, after some time in a place where she had nowhere to run,
he could turn the tides. So he indulged her, whispering a great deal of his
plans against her temple until her breaths evened out and she stopped
responding. Then he laid her out, doing just as he said he’d always wanted, and
looked at her. There was just one problem. His stare wasn’t full of its typical
lust or devotion. No, this time there was only concern.
     

Four
     
    “ Bienvenue sur notre belle île !”
    Sansone tried and failed to
focus on the boisterous words announced by captain of the ferry steadily
bustling he and Nyssa, along with several other passengers, towards the Vai’are wharf. His attention was on his wife who’d left him
near their bags to go stand at the railing and turn her face towards the sun.
Her oversized glasses were long gone, tucked away into one of her many pieces
of luggage, and her lashes rested on her cheeks. She had her small palms
pressed against the metal of the huge boat, barely moving with the speed while
she practically glowed. The backdrop of light bracketed her bronzed skin
perfectly,