Weeks had passed and Ettore’s visits had become more frequent. Every time he surprised me, I couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off of my face. That smile often transferred through our eager kisses. Yes, we always ended up naked, our bodies entwined, but it wasn’t all just sex. It was actually quite normal, in a sense, and far less hectic than it had been. He brought me flowers, and Italian sweets, and sometimes, he cooked for me. As our time together was limited, we always kept our conversations light in an attempt to veer away from the heaviness of our past. We opened a bottle of wine and sat on the floor, in the dark, bathed in moonlight. We talked about menial topics. Our likes and dislikes.

It was the first date we never got.

We held hands in silence. He held me close and my heart ached when placed his lips against my temple, just because.

As ridiculous as it sounds, it frightened me to see him like this, to be here with him like this. It was easier to call him a beast when I believed he wasn’t human. I had seen this man at his worst. But now, things were different. I had learned Ettore could be sweet when you weren’t threatening his life. He was affectionate in a way that surprised me. And, much like me, he was bound by duty.

Conflicted, I silently worked through my thoughts and feelings. And, as it were, I came to the shocking conclusion that despite everything we had done to hurt each other, we were all the other had. And I was dangerously close to falling in love with my husband.

After kissing for what seemed like hours, I pulled away to look directly into his hooded gaze when I said the words he knew was coming. “I want to come home.”

The long pause answered me long before he did.

He searched my face and when he reached out to me, I closed my eyes. He gently placed the stray lock of hair behind me ear and leant in. He pressed his warm, full lips to my cheek and let the kiss linger. And then, he said something that kickstarted my heart. “Soon.”

Oh my God.

Soon.

Soon.

That small word was a huge contrast to ‘No,’ and marginally better than ‘Not yet.’ And even thought I did my best not to show it, I could tell he sensed my elation. I knew it for certain when he laid back, flat on the carpet with his arms folded behind his head, looked up at the ceiling and said, “I want your mouth on me.” My stomach flip-flopped when his eyes darkened and he uttered the crude words out loud. “Suck my cock.”

Goddamn it.

I would never admit it out loud, but I loved it when he ordered me around like that.

Not sure what that said about me.