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He arrives when she least expects him to. She’s in the middle of combing her hair, almost ready for bed, when her bedroom door opens. She grabs a dagger hidden inside a drawer of her dresser, whipping around to face whoever it is that dare enter her chamber so late in the night. When she sees him, the dagger drops from her hand, barely missing her foot. His beard is thicker, and there’s a bit more grey in his hair than there was when he left but other than those two things, he looks almost the same. Tired, but the same. He watches her, eyes moving from her face to her torso and then to her feet.
“I was not expecting you,” are the first words out of her mouth and the instant she says them, she wishes she could take them back. The words have little weight and there is no warmth in her voice. Cosimo does not seem to care, though. He’s still watching her, and she shifts on her feet, a flush creeping up her neck. It’s mad, to still feel awkward around him when she’s been married to him for so long. But her and Cosimo’s relationship has always been strained, even in their most happiest moments together, she’s struggled to fully express how she feels.
“I had to come back, to attend to something urgent. I thought I would check in to see how you were doing,” he says finally and she realises just then, how badly she’s missed his voice. They never spoke often, when they lived together, but his voice, after so many years of marriage, was like an anchor to her, grounding her.
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” she says. After a pause she adds, “You must be hungry. Let me get you something to eat.”
Cosimo nods, moving to the side so she can lead the way to their dining room. It’s a bit foolish for him to wait for her to lead, since he knows this house like the back of his palm, but Contessina merely grabs her robe and secures it around her body before walking towards the kitchen. The kitchen ladies have long gone, so she takes a plate and cuts a loaf of bread, spreading preserves on one side. She cuts a block of cheese, and washes a basket of fruit all whilst wondering what exactly she’s supposed to say to him. When she goes to the dining room, Cosimo is already seated at his usual place, a goblet of wine in one hand. She sets the plate down in front of him, and sits opposite him, on the other side of the table.
“How is it there?” she asks after a pregnant pause. “How is everybody?”
Cosimo has just finished chewing a piece of bread, goblet half-way to his mouth. He sets the glass down, visibly swallowing before looking up at her. His eyes are still so blue, just as blue as they were twenty years ago. They remind her of a dress she had when she was a little girl.
“They are well. Lucrezia is doing much better. Pierro and her miss you dearly,” he replies. She nods, at a loss of words. There is a spark of anger that ignites in her gut. She could have been there right now, with her son, with her daughter-in-law, even with Cosimo. But she is here instead. Alone.
They are silent again for a handful of minutes, before Contessina speaks.
“Why are you here?” she questions. He looks up at her again, a glint appearing in his eyes.
“I told you, I had business here. I thought I would check in on you,” he says easily. But his mouth twitches slightly and she knows he’s lying.
“We’ve been married for two decades, Cosimo. You cannot lie to me,” she responds. He grins then, his smile angry and warm all at once.
“How have you been keeping busy?” he questions, changing the subject so easily.
“There is a lot of work to do here,” she returns. “And you?”
“There is a lot of work to do there, as well,” he replies.
Neither of them asks what they truly want to know, whether there’s been somebody else that’s warmed the others’ bed. She knows there probably has been. Knows that even if Cosimo loves her, which she is fairly sure he does, it is layered with anger and guilt. She is a constant reminder of his lack of freedom, of the fact that his parents destroyed his choice to do what he wanted. She loves him too, almost so much that it angers her sometimes, how much she cares. But her love has been unused for so long that she does not know how to express it.
“I hope the food is to your liking,” she says. Her fingers twist in her lap, unsure of what else to say.
“It is fine,” he assures her and the edge in his tone that was there previously is gone. His voice isn’t soft but it’s no longer angry either. “I have missed you.”
The second part of his sentence comes out quietly, and Contessina is unsure that she has even heard correctly until she looks at him to find him watching her carefully. His eyes are darker now, and his jaw is clenched almost as if he is nervous. Her mouth opens and then closes. She swallows before responding.
“You chose to leave me,” she says and his jaw clenches even more.
“I was angry,” he says, and his tone is guarded again.
“I did what I did, for you, Cosimo,” she says, and she is standing up now. The anger in her veins burns, igniting years of frustration. “I have always done what I had to do, for you.”
He stands up too now, hands pulled into fists at his side.
“What you did was for you, you acted on emotion. It was selfish. The family suffered –“
Before he can finish, Contessina is storming towards his end of the table.
“The family would have suffered anyway. If you had died Cosimo, we would have been worse off. You think Lorenzo could have saved us if you were gone?” she spits, her voice loud and angry. “You did not even let me explain!”
Cosimo closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath. “I know, now,” he says after a pause. “I know now. I’m sorry.”
His voice cracks at the end, and he sounds desperate. Desperate for forgiveness or desperate for her to not yell, she is not sure. But he looks so wary and so tired, that she cannot help step towards him. He lifts his hand, and she takes it in her grip. His fingers are calloused, rough from all the sketching he used to do. His palm is warm and she can feel the thrum of his pulse at his wrist. His other arm comes around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His forehead is against hers and he takes another deep breath, almost as if he’s breathing her in.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats and the grip on her waist tightens. She nods, pressing closer.
“I have missed you too,” she says when his breath has evened out. His eyes blink open and he nudges her nose with his, before kissing her. It has been so long since they’ve done this that at first, Contessina isn’t sure how to respond. But then, his hands move from her waist to her head, cupping it. The rasp of his beard against her face sends a warm tingle through her body and she grips his shirt, pulling him closer. He lets out a groan, before he’s pushing away although he doesn’t move far. He rests his forehead against hers, again, eyes already growing darker. He presses a kiss to her forehead, before he moves away.
“We must sleep. I do actually have to meet somebody tomorrow,” he says and she nods. He takes her hand, ushering for her to lead the way, as he follows with a steady hand on her waist. The heat from his hand seeps through her robe and her night gown, warming up her body almost instantly.
“Will you be staying her while you complete your work?” she asks, as they walk towards their chamber.
“If you’ll let me,” he says and she smiles.
“Well I would not mind if you did,” she responds, and he presses a kiss to her hair. She turns to smile at him, and he smiles back.