THIRTY-THREE |

me in nothing but one of his shirts and my underwear. He didn't struggle with my weight as we travelled from the garage to our house, nor did his eyes leave mine for even a second when he unlocked the front door.

When he'd asked what do you want to do today? I hadn't expected him to agree with whatever I suggested. Especially since watching films in our pyjamas and ordering takeout was such a normal couples' activity, and we were so very, very far from normal.

Yet here we were.

Arturo carried me into the living room and placed me down on the sofa, both arms resting on either side of my head as I giggled uncontrollably. "I think I've finally driven you mad," he whispered, bending down to chase my neck with his lips. Every time his mouth caught my skin I laughed harder, so hard that my stomach ached. I felt weightless for the first time in months.

Unable to bear the feverish tickle of his stubble against me, I reached up and held his head between my hands, forcing him to look into my eyes. We were still for a moment as I caught my breath. Arturo ran his thumb across my cheek and smiled. "I like the sound of your laugh," he admitted, glancing away. He ducked his head in to the crook of my neck and this time I held still when he kissed it. "I haven't heard it enough."

"I sound like a dying horse," I deadpanned.

He tried to keep his composure but couldn't help the smile that formed. "A little."

Letting my hands fall away from his face, I turned my head to the side and pouted only to find his lips beginning another feverish attack. "A very beautiful, charming dead horse," he mumbled, working his way across my jaw so delicately that I felt heat spreading through my whole body.

I turned to him suddenly and he stopped dead, studying me. I ran a finger over his bottom lip. "I've missed your smile," I admitted quietly, "and how you act when it's only us."

"I'm sorry–"

"No, don't be. I like it. It means you're only mine, I get a part of you that nobody else does."

Arturo sighed, lowering his body against mine. He brushed a strand of hair out of my face. "You have all of me, Florence. You have from day one."

I smiled into his kiss, finally pushing from my mind all of the problems we'd faced and the arguments we'd had. I focused only on his lips, his scent, the warmth of his body. It was time to focus on ourselves for the first time, on what it meant to be together.

To see if a Lucchese and a Genovese could ever truly work.

"Film," I mumbled against Arturo's lips, gently pushing him away. "We need to pick a film."

He pouted for a moment, staring at my mouth longingly, before sitting up. "The decision is yours. Anything you choose, we can watch."

I raised my eyebrows. "Anything?"

Arturo nodded solemnly.

"As in, anything at all?" I couldn't quite believe it.

His hand fell against my thigh and slowly ran down my bare calf. The gesture wasn't sexual, but so comfortable and at ease that I couldn't help but smile. "I have already made so many decisions for you about your life, about our life together. I think I at least owe you a film."

"But..."

"What?"

"I can choose whatever I want? You don't get to say yes or no?"

"That is generally how one-sided decisions work." Up and down, up and down, his fingers traced over my skin to the point of distraction. He drew a circle around my ankle, the inside of my foot, all the while watching me as I chewed on my lip in thought.

"Okay. This feels...weird."

"Believe me, I know."

"How about you decide what takeout we're ordering while I pick a movie?" I suggested hopefully, but Arturo shook his head.

"Also your decision, I'm afraid."

"You really are spoiling me," I teased, grabbing his hand and lacing our fingers. "I think I've made my first decision."

"Dare I ask?"

"Love Rosie." When Arturo's look of confusion didn't fade, I felt my heart rate speed up. What if he hadn't been serious about letting me choose? What if he couldn't stick to his word on something so simple? "That's the film I want to watch - Love, Rosie. It's one of my favourites."

"It sounds...interesting." I could see the effort it took for Arturo to be positive about my choice, and I loved him even more for it.

"So we can watch it?" I asked uncertainly.

"Of course."

"And we can get Chinese takeout?"

"...yes."

"Great! Okay, I'm going to grab some blankets, you download the movie," I instructed, jumping up from the sofa. "Do you know any numbers for takeout places or should I google it?"

"I know a place."

"This might be the best thing I've ever eaten in my life," I moaned, taking a bite out of a crispy duck pancake and sighing contentedly.

Arturo glanced at me over his plate of noodles as he tried hopelessly to master the art of eating with chopsticks. "It would be good if I could get any of it in my mouth," he said dryly.

I giggled as he attempted once more to use the unfamiliar implements only to grow more frustrated. We were both curled up on the sofa wrapped in our duvet while Lily Collins and Sam Claflin tried to work out their romance on screen.

"Here," I offered, putting down my plate of pancakes and leaning over to take the chopsticks from Arturo's hands. "You need to hold them like this."

He watched carefully as I demonstrated, eager to grasp one of the few skills in life which eluded him. I handed them back to let him try.

"Cazzo!" He threw the chop sticks down in frustration, staring at me as if his failure was the end of the world.

I tried as hard as I could to hold in my laughter. "Have some pancakes," I offered, switching his food for mine. "They're really good."

"I'm not used to admitting defeat," he grumbled.

"I know. I love you."

Arturo set his food down on the coffee table and then shifted on the sofa so that he was laid behind me. "Come here," he said, drawing me into his arms until his chin rested on my shoulder. I leaned back into the warmth of his body as his hands slipped beneath the shirt I was wearing, running over the bare skin of my waist.

"Do you think we're as useless as them?" he asked, voice muffled by my hair. On screen, the protagonists continued to hopelessly drift apart, missing each other again and again as they failed to admit their feelings. They were living the wrong lives, it was so clear – but how could they not see?

"They end up together, after everything," I shrugged. "Maybe it doesn't matter whether the journey's a mess."

Arturo planted a kiss below my ear. "Thanks for spoiling the ending."

"You're welcome," I smiled.

Our focus drifted back to the film, and I was surprised by the lack of complaints I received from Arturo. I knew he'd deny it fervently, but I suspected deep down that it was nice for him to relax for once. I hadn't seen him so peaceful in a long time.

When his phone started to ring during the final few moments of the film, my heart clenched nervously. This had already happened so many times, I knew how things worked: work called, and Arturo went running. He had to.

"You can answer that," I offered, feeling his hands clench against the bare skin of my stomach. It was an involuntary reaction, I knew, and I felt sorry for him because of it. He was always on call, always waiting for something bad to happen.

Arturo reached over to the coffee table and silenced the phone. "Not tonight," he said. "Tonight is about us. Nobody else in the world matters."

"Are you sure? The business...?"

"Marco is taking care of it. He is more than capable."

Finally we both relaxed and I settled back into his arms, but my mind couldn't find the peaceful place it was once in. All I could think about was our argument in the kitchen, and the unresolved issue of Cecelia. I wanted nothing more than to exist in this bubble with Arturo, but pretending didn't make our problems go away.

"Arturo," I spoke quietly once the film had finished.

"Hmm?"

I turned on the sofa so that we were face to face. "I've been thinking about Cecelia."

"Don't," he said, brushing my hair back from my face. "You don't have to think about her. She is my problem to fix."

"She isn't. Not just yours. This is our problem, we need to solve it together."

"I don't want you in any danger," Arturo said.

"And you think I want you in danger?" I shook my head silently, trying to find words to describe how painful the very thought of it was to me. "Cecelia is only a problem because of me, I'm the one putting you in harm's way."

Baby, that's not true."

"Shh," I said, putting a finger against his lips. He looked mildly amused for a second before concern took over his features. "I want to help you fix this mess. I'm going to help. We will face this together, whatever that might mean. Okay? Please don't fight me on this."

Arturo let out a long, deep breath. "Okay," he said, looking less than happy. "Together."

Our hands entwined in the space between us, fingers interlocking, palm to palm.

"Together."