Becca.
The day following some angry, but hot sex with James, he was out trying to establish some connections again while I was at home sipping wine, contemplating going out to the bar or something myself.
There was nothing interesting on television and no new news regarding the myriad of situations we always seemed to find ourselves in. I wasn’t happy about the outcome of the fight I’d had with James, but the sex had been nice.
I took a sip of my wine, going over everything else. The kids, at least, seemed to be happy. Alessandro was talking more and didn’t seem afraid of the neighbors like he had been with the Stepford wives.
I’d noticed he very much flinched away from them and wasn’t happy from the first time we’d interacted. No surprise, as they saw him, and me, as lesser. I clenched my fist at that thought.
As upset as I was to be here in Italy, at least we weren’t there anymore.
