“We’re too immature. Especially you.”
She smiled.
They were quiet for a while. Content. His whisper drifted over her cheek. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
“Oh, yes.” With a sense of absolute certainty, she pressed her lips to his, then fell back against the pillow.
He stroked her skin as if he still couldn’t quite believe she was his. “You’re doing it, aren’t you?”
She heard the smile in his voice, but she continued her prayers. They’d become as essential as her breathing. So many prayers of thanksgiving.
When she was done, she gazed across the firelit room to the mantel top, where his gold Oscar for Night Kill perched. Ren hadn’t even begun to test his limits, and unless she missed her guess, another would someday sit next to it.
She hadn’t tested her limits either. Living an Imperfect Life had been a runaway bestseller-so much for thinking small-and The Imperfect Marriage would be coming out in a few months. Her publisher wanted Raising the Imperfect Child as soon as possible, but that book was still very much a work in progress, and she didn’t intend to complete it for some time.
Thanks to an excellent referral network, she was keeping her counseling practice small. Just as she’d promised herself, she made certain she had time each day to think, to pray, to have fun. Marriage to Lorenzo Gage was messy but fulfilling. Definitely fulfilling.
He slipped out of bed, cursing softly as he stepped on a plastic action figure. Tomorrow they were attending the christening of Giulia and Vittorio’s second child, a boy born just fourteen months after his sister. They’d welcomed the excuse to come back to Tuscany. As much as they loved their home in California, this always felt like a journey back to their roots. In the summer they’d spend a month here, along with Harry, Tracy, and the children, including Annabelle, their fifth and last, who’d been born the day after Ren and Isabel’s wedding, which had taken place in the garden below their bedroom window.
Ren picked up the clothes they’d discarded, and tossed them into the trunk where they kept an assortment of interesting costumes along with a few devilish props.
Thank you, God, for gifting me with an actor.
He reached into the wardrobe, pulled out her nightgown, and handed it to her. “As much as I hate to give you this…”
She slipped it over her head while he shoved his legs into gray silk pajama bottoms. Then he walked over to the door, gave a long-suffering sigh, and unlocked it.
“Did you read the script?” he asked as he slid back under the covers.
“I did.”
“You know, don’t you, that I’m not going to do it.”
“I know that you are.”
“Jesus, Isabel…”
“You can’t turn it down.”
“But Jesus?”
“I admit it’ll be a stretch. He was celibate and preached nonviolence. But you both love kids.”
“Especially ours.”
She smiled. “The twins are demons. You were so right.”
“They’re potty-trained demons. I held up my end of the bargain.”
“You’re very good at it.”
He silenced her with a kiss, his favorite form of conflict resolution. They held each other. While the wind howled in the chimney and the shutters rattled, they whispered their love all over again.
They’d just begun to drift off when the door creaked open and two pairs of small feet scampered across the carpet, fleeing all the monsters who lived in the dark. Ren reached out and drew the invaders into the warmth of the bed. Their mother cuddled them close. For the next few hours peace reigned in the Villa of the Angels.
About the Author
Susan Elizabeth Phillips is one of our biggest women’s fiction stars soaring onto the New York Times bestseller list with Dream a Little Dream. She’s the only four-time recipient of Romance Writer’s of America’s prestigious Favorite Book of the Year Award. Susan delights fans by touching hearts as well as funny bones with her wonderfully whimsical and modern fairy tales. A resident of the Chicago suburbs,she is also a wife and mother of two grown sons.
