relativity

**Luciano**

Einstein's theory of relativity. He explained it this way: When a man sits with a pretty girl for an hour, it seems like a minute. But let him sit on a hot stove for a minute and it's longer than any hour. That's relativity.

I've always loved science, and the theory of relativity is one of my favorites, because, unwittingly, we all experience it. It's this complex equation that we literally having a saying for: time flies when you're having fun.

Time seems relative to an observer's feelings on whatever is happening. So while two people live in the same hour, one may feel like that hour is a lifetime, while the other may feel it's gone in a second.

Two weeks without Savannah felt like six lifetimes. That was two months ago.

Time flies.

We're stronger now then we were before. We're awaiting the birth of our first child in a few months.

And though we bare scars literally, and figuratively of that incident, we're healing. Scars represent healing.

I just feel like everything is slipping from my fingertips. Like the world is whizzing by, and I can't stop at any given moment to experience anything.

I'm dizzy, trying to slow time down, and failing miserably.

The look she gives me when I come from the bathroom, almost makes me go back and barricade myself there.

She looks like she wants eat me alive.

"What's that look, cara?"

"Come to bed, Luciano."

"What are you going to do to me?"

"A lotta things, but you'll like them all."

Now who can argue with that logic?

Every time I look at her my chest warms, my belly drops. She's stunningly beautiful, my wife is.

Those gray eyes, those dusty pink lips, tugged into a smile. Her petite figure, so opposite to mine it's almost comical.

Not to mention her voracious sexual appetite. She gives me what you Americans say, a run for my money.

I slip into bed, and she's on me instantly. She straddles my waist, brown curtain of hair like a privacy screen.

Slim fingers brush over her name in gold script over my heart.

"Do you still want me?"

I would laugh, if she were joking.

I lift my hips to hers. "Any more questions?"

Instead of answering, she palms my face and leans down to kiss me, slow, sweet and intoxicating, each kiss drawn out languidly.

I let her take the lead, but a hand goes to her neck, pulling her closer into me, closer into my kiss.

I can't help but lick her lips, missing the way they taste.

My other hand rests on her waist.

"Mh, cara."

She ignores my words, kissing me instead, getting increasingly more aggressive. I can help but moan at the sensation of her ravaging my mouth, taking my breath as plunder.

I love it. I love her.

"Cara, ah! Dio mio, donna."

"Shut up unless you're talking dirty to me."

Oh I can do that.

"Will you let me breathe, if I do?"

She shrugs grinning mischievously. "We'll see."

Her mouth explores my skin, my chest, neck, throat, shoulders, collar, damn it!

"Mi piace quando prendi ciò che è tuo."

(I love it when you take what yours.)

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, I hiss her warm breath fanning my nipple.

"Mi fai diventare selvaggio con il desiderio per te."

You drive me me wild with desire for you.

Flattening her tongue against the small bud, she draws a groan from me.

La tua bocca è fatta per il peccato, e io sono un peccatore.

(Your mouth is made for sin, and I am a sinner.)

She licks my abs, letting her teeth scrape my skin. "More! Bless me more, my goddess."

And she does, electrocuting me with her touch, her kisses, her taste.

We make love into the early morning, unable to stop. I hadn't realized how much I wanted her until I had her.

Then starvation became ravenous, and all I could do was devour her.

Savannah's belly swelled, faster than it was supposed to. By the time she was in her fifth month, she could hardly move. Her ankles were always swollen, her back was always aching.

"I want them out!"

"Them? We're having a girl. Just one."

"Boy."

I shake my head. We'll find out soon enough. The scene has calmed down exponentially, mostly due to the fact that I'd slaughtered almost every other family in the area.

Only the Ferris were spared. Instead of attempting to prosecute me, the police rejoiced. I got almost every major league criminal off their streets forever, and they had nothing to do with it.

It seemed the dust had settled. Nic moved back to Italy. He couldn't stand being here with Deena, and I understood. We both did.

Finally the time came to have our baby. Savannah's screams woke me up, making my stomach clench with fear.

"Baby?"

"Baby!"

It took me a moment, but I realized she was going into labor. I carried her to the car along with her overnight bag, strapped her in, and we drove to St. Peter's hospital.

The hours that followed dragged on. She screamed and cried, wailed and cursed. I held her hand, feeling the bones in my first gets begin to cave under her grip.

A little cry erupts and I smile at her.

"It's a girl." my sweet smile turns triumphant.

"Dad would you like to cut the cord?"

I do, looking at my new baby girl. My sight blurred with tears, but I'll never tell anyone that.

Except her.

"She's beautiful," I whisper to Savannah.

Only, it wasn't over. Savannah started screaming again, and my heart raced.

"What's happening?"

"We've got another head, and it's a boy!"

Ha. I cut his cord too, in a daze. I was only expecting one. I got two.

Two.

My son looks just like her mother. As he wails his big gray eyes blink at me.

After they're bathed, and swaddled, they hand Savannah our boy, and give me our girl. She hasn't opened her eyes yet, so I don't know what color they are.

But I know she's the most beautiful baby girl that ever existed. Her little hand clutches my finger, refusing to let go.

She has ten toes, ten fingers, tiny nose, tiny hands and feet. A little mouth in a pout.

She's so cute.

We switch off, I hand Savannah our girl, and she gives me our little boy. He's calmer, but his eyes are wide open, looking straight at me.

They don't stray from mine, and I must admit, I'm a little freaked out.

"They're gorgeous, Kitty. Thank you."

I kiss her forehead, her lips.

"Names?"

We decided to wait until the baby was born, to give him or her a name that fit their personality.

"Levi." I remember reading that stupid book of names, Savannah gave me. Levi means alert, businesslike. It seems to encompass him.

"I like Levi. And her?"

Our baby girl still hasn't opened her eyes, and her hand is now wrapped around her Mamma's finger.

"You pick this one," I urge.

She gives me a tired look. "I'll take middle names. Every kid hates their first name anyway."

Before I can answer her eyes flutter open for a bit.

"Luna," I say automatically. Her eyes are like little moons, wide and gray.

Savannah smiles weakly at me. "Levi and Luna Vitale."

My two miracles.