* * *
I watch Faye disappear through the trees ahead and feel a trapped breath slowly leave me.
From the second she opened the door, I’ve been caught up in a whirlwind of spiralling emotion. Of fear. Of gut-clenching panic. Of tomorrow being the end. Because tomorrow she leaves, and this will be over.
The hedonistic fun. The lust.
Because it is just lust. Granted, it’s more powerful, more all-consuming, impossible to sate, but it’s just lust. No more.
And yet I feel as if I’m working too hard to convince myself of it.
‘It’s time...’ The wedding planner gives us a nod, refocusing my attention, and I look to Dani.
‘Well, here goes, sorellina...’ She gives me a small smile, her eyes so big in her face as she looks up at me, fearful, nervous. ‘You want to do this, si?’
She laughs softly. ‘Yes.’
‘Good, because you look terrified.’
She steps forward, taking me with her. ‘I’m many things right now, fratellone, but the one thing I know for sure is that I love Tyler and I want us to spend the rest of our lives together.’
She looks back at me as I struggle to keep in step.
‘Now you look terrified.’
I give an uneasy laugh; there’s too much racing through my brain. Too many questions. Too many ‘what ifs’. But I focus on her certainty, on what’s important in that moment. ‘It’s my honour to give you away to a man worthy of you, a man I love as a brother already.’
Now we fall into step together, the music wrapping around us, guiding the rhythm. I remember my toast at dinner the other night—that if life is kind it will be long and happy and worthy of such commitment.
Dani pauses beside me and I look at her. Her eyes are locked with Tyler’s, their depths glistening, her lips curving up.
‘Love is worth it, brother,’ she whispers, her eyes not once leaving her husband-to-be. ‘You just have to open up your heart and let it in.’
I look up the aisle to Tyler’s beaming expression and to Faye... Faye.
‘One day, I hope you’ll find someone worthy of it too.’
I’m barely aware of her words, of my legs moving now as we approach. I am lost in the sight of her standing there, waiting for us.
She is worthy, she is more than worthy... It’s me that’s the problem.
I feel her eyes on me during the ceremony, I feel them because my every sense is urging me to look back at her. To listen to the mayor as he talks of love, of marriage and of the sanctity of the vows. I listen to Dani and Tyler make their promises to one another...
I run a finger through the collar of my shirt and lower my hands in front of me, gripping them together. A gentle hand covers them, and I look down to find that it’s my mother offering me comfort. I lift my eyes to hers and she gives me a smile that swims with emotion. Then she looks back to Dani and Tyler and I do the same. I don’t pull away; instead, I turn my hand over and take hers in mine.
I wonder if she’s thinking as I am. Worrying for their future. Worrying about what life may throw at them down the road. Will they be as unlucky as her and Papà?
My thoughts return to Faye, to her encouragement where my mother is concerned, and how right she was. I look across the aisle and see her smile, her eyes looking at where our hands are entwined before returning to my face. I smile back at her. I have her to thank in some way for this and, when I can, I’ll tell her so.
And then I remember that I don’t have long, that the clock is ticking, that tomorrow she leaves and this, whatever this even is between us, will be over.
Emptiness consumes me. Suffocates me.
Is this how being without her will feel?
Is this what it’s like before love sets in? Or have I...?
No. Impossible.
My mother squeezes my fingers and I realise I’m gripping hers tightly. I soften my hold, shift in the seat and do my best to ease the tension that’s taken hold, but it’s no use. It’s buried so deep and it’s consuming me.
I need to get out of here, but I’m trapped.
Trapped and sinking deeper.
Like a nightmare you can’t wake up from, or a dream you want to lose yourself in. A dream where you can love...you can let yourself go. A dream where everything’s as rose-tinted as the couple up front and love conquers all and nothing can hurt.
* * *
What a perfect day. A truly gorgeous, perfect day.
But my feet are killing me.
It’s late, gone midnight, but, as I’ve learned this week, it’s early by Italian standards.
Still, no one will sniff at me slipping off the heels now. I toe one off, then the other, and sink my feet into the cooling grass. I’m out of the way, up on an elevated position that overlooks the outdoor dance floor with its ceiling of fairy lights that swing from tree to tree, illuminating the ground below and the people dancing beneath it.
Tyler and Dani have barely left the floor. Marianna and Giovanni have become ever closer as the week has progressed and are more than happy to entertain the young duo, Leo and Isabella, with their dance moves. Their parents caved and left the dance floor over an hour ago to cuddle up at one of the intimate tables still set out from dinner, their heads close together as they sip their wine and watch the dancing still underway.
Harry and Lisa are at another table, deep in conversation. Tyler’s parents are chatting to Antonietta, Nonna and Dante, off to the side, and Rafael...
I breathe in softly.
Rafael...
He’s talking to the head waiter, taking control, making sure everything is still picture-perfect and every need is catered for.
It’s an intimate affair, with more paid staff discreetly waiting in the wings than there are guests, and that’s all down to him.
Him and his huge heart.
Not his wallet.
Yes, money paid for all this, but it’s his heart that makes it so important to him. And ever since his wobble in Dani’s bedroom earlier he’s been back in control, commanding, taking care of everything. And I... I love him for it.
I accept the emotion for what it is and accept that it can never be.
Because he is still Rafael, the man who will never marry.
Not that I even want marriage.
I don’t need another ring to bind me to him; my heart will do that for me.
He finishes with the head waiter and takes two glasses from a tray, scanning the tables and the dance floor. I hold my breath.
His eyes find me in the shadows and something flickers in his face. Something that looks like so much more than it could possibly be. And I know I’m putting that look there, that the distance is playing tricks on me and aiding me in my quest to believe that more is possible. The drink too. All those bubbles we’ve consumed have gone to my head, not to mention the Chianti consumed with dinner.
I watch him approach, my heart racing, my eyes unblinking. I have the sudden desire to turn and run, which is ridiculous, but it’s there.
I curl my toes into the grass and plaster on a smile. He’s climbing the stone steps that weave through the lavender that grows wild up here and his eyes lift to me.
‘Found me, then?’ I say, feigning a confidence I don’t feel.
‘I’ve known where you are every second of every moment today.’
My heart dances in my chest, his words adding to the fanciful future I’m too quick to imagine. ‘Is that so?’
He offers me a glass, his body so close now I can smell his scent, his eyes near enough to see the ambient glow from the castle behind me sparkle in his darkened gaze.
‘Yes.’
I take the glass without looking, my eyes refusing to leave his.
‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘And so you should.’ He raises his glass
to me. ‘Cheers to a successful day.’
I clink my glass against his. ‘Cheers.’
We drink but the bubbles stick in my throat. Nerves, want, love...all the emotions claw their way through me, making it impossible to relax. I lower my lashes and cover my mouth on a small cough.
‘Are you okay?’
I force another smile. ‘Of course. Have you had a good day?’
‘Si.’ He frowns at me and hesitates. ‘It’s actually gone better than I dared hope.’
‘Really?’ I laugh now, wanting the mood to lighten, wanting him to quit worrying. ‘You say that so seriously. I know people panic that things will go wrong at weddings but to be so emphatic! Are we really all that bad?’
He laughs and I treasure the sound.
‘Not you, exactly, but...’ He turns and looks down on the dance floor, his eyes settling on his mother and Giovanni.
‘They look happy,’ I say after a moment.
He flicks me a look. ‘Si, they do. Turns out it was my aunt’s plan all along to bring Giovanni and remind my mother of what she could have if she would only move on from the past and come home.’
I study his face, watching him as he watches her. ‘Sounds...deep.’
He gives another laugh, softer this time, reflective. ‘Apparently, Giovanni has always been in love with my mother, only Papà got in there first.’
‘Really?’ I say, my smile genuine now, my surprise too.
‘Really. And now it seems they may have a future.’
I look at them on the dance floor, their hands entwined with Leo’s and Isabella’s as they dance in a circle. Everyone is smiling. Everyone is happy.
‘How perfect.’
He makes a non-committal sound and I frown at him. ‘You’re not happy for them?’
He looks at me, but not for long; his eyes are too quick to go back to the dancing figures.
‘I’d like to be happy for them.’ He gestures out to the dance floor with his glass. ‘I’d like to be happy for them all.’
‘But?’
‘Life has so many other ideas, doesn’t it?’
I study his pensive expression and stay quiet, sensing that the question is rhetorical and there’s more to come.
‘Take my mother and father. They were once happy. They argued, but they loved each other underneath it all. And I didn’t make life easy for them.’
‘In what way?’
His smile is small and one-sided as he looks at me. ‘I was something of a hellion.’
I laugh, happy that he’s opening up to me, and amused to imagine him as such. ‘You were that bad?’
‘Dio, si.’ He sips at his drink. ‘I wanted to conquer everything all at once and as soon as possible: swimming, cycling, driving, schooling. If my parents could do it, so could I. Regardless of the law, of what was wise or sensible.’
I smile. ‘I’m sure they were very proud of their young hellion.’
He goes quiet and I lean into him, my head resting against his shoulder offering comfort that he hasn’t even asked for.
‘They would have been, Rafael. Just as your mother is proud of you now, your father would have been proud too.’
‘Dani would have made Papà proud. Today...this morning...’ His voice cracks and, God, it kills me. I turn into him and reach for his cheek. I can’t stop it; I need to touch him, to feel him, to reassure him.
‘Yes, he would have been, but he would have been proud of you too. So proud that you could do what he wasn’t able to in giving her away.’
His gaze glistens and I feel my own tears well.
‘You are someone to be proud of, Rafael.’
My eyes waver into his and I want to kiss him. I want to so much it hurts...
‘You are,’ I insist softly, my lips parting, pleading, and then he’s kissing me, his arm drawing around me, pulling me closer.
We kiss and kiss, tongues tasting, bodies melding together, but it’s not enough. Tonight is my last night. Tomorrow I leave, but I want more, so much more from him, before I go. And then I remember where we are and I fall back, scanning the ground below, making sure we haven’t been seen.
‘Stay with me tonight, cara mia.’ He isn’t hurried or panicked. His fingers are soft in my hair as he brushes it back from my face and I look at him, his eyes imploring. ‘Please, our last night.’
I’m nodding before I think better of it. He’s not offering me a future; he’s telling me this is it.
We return to the guests, do our duty and wait for the last to fall. I’m bone-tired, weary from a long day; even my cheeks ache from all the smiles. But the second we cross the threshold of his room I’m alert. A hive of thrumming activity, of anticipation.
Rafael comes up behind me, his fingers soft on the straps of my dress as he bows his head to my neck, sweeps kisses along the exposed skin.
‘It feels weird that it’s over,’ I murmur, taking a steadying breath as I try to fight off the sadness. ‘I wonder how Dani will fill her time now she has no wedding to plan.’
‘I think Tyler has many ways to occupy her.’ He takes hold of the zip at my back and eases it down. ‘None too different to what I’m wanting to do right now.’
‘Is it all you men think about?’
My dress falls from my shoulders and he smooths it down my hips, my thighs... I’m wearing no bra, just a thong, and in the free-standing mirror ahead I can see his eyes taking me in. Their burn. The emotion...
He takes hold of my hands and lifts them, entwining my fingers behind his neck so that I arch into his warm, unyielding body.
‘You truly are exquisite.’ His hands smooth around to my front, cupping my breasts. He rolls their puckered hearts, his lips soft on my neck as he sweeps kisses to my ear. He catches my lobe in his teeth, all the while his eyes fixed on the mirror and what he’s doing to me.
‘You are a masterpiece.’
My laugh catches as he pinches my nipples.
‘You are, cara mia. Don’t ever doubt it.’
His eyes are on fire, their darkened depths glinting with gold in the soft light of the room. I want to ask, if I’m such a masterpiece, why doesn’t he want to keep me, treasure me? I bite into my lip. I don’t want to ruin tonight with that. He keeps massaging my breasts, pinching and caressing my nipples until I’m writhing against him, until the colour of desire is as high in his own cheeks, his cock like granite as it grinds against my back.
‘Please, Raf!’
‘What, cara?’ His voice is husky in my ear, his breath coming in pants, and I swear I could come from this alone.
‘I need you to touch me.’
He lowers one hand to my thong, slips his fingers inside and groans. ‘You are so wet.’
He coats himself in my need, rolling over my clit, his pace matching my hurried breaths, my grinding hips. I want him to take me to the bed, I want him inside me. I want it all. But I can’t speak, can’t demand it. My toes curl, the delicious tension spreading through my tightening limbs. I turn my head to his, seeking out his mouth, his tongue. I see his eyes still feasting on our form in the mirror, determined, carnal, and I’m gone. He swallows my cry with his groan, his hands pressing me tight against him as he absorbs shock after shock.
He spins me into him, scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the bed. There’s a strange tension to him, a desperation. I see it in the lines that bracket his mouth, his eyes that blaze and strain.
I watch him undress, his eyes not once leaving mine, and I understand. I understand, because it’s the same desperation I feel. The need to get enough, to get enough and walk away. Because tomorrow it will be over.
And, even though this has to end, I will always be grateful to Rafael. He has taught me so much. Made me realise that such passion, such love is possible.
I only have to find someone capable and
willing to offer it in return.
It has to be possible.
It has to be...
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I WAKE TO an empty bed and realise that Faye has gone. We were awake until three, so I know she’s not been gone long. It’s seven-thirty now, the latest I’ve slept in a long while, but still it doesn’t feel long enough. The after-effects of the alcohol and the lack of sleep are weighing me down, clouding up my brain and making my body ache.
I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling fresco, a romantic scene fit for a bedroom, and feel the ache run bone-deep.
It’s not just the alcohol, the lack of sleep. It’s her. I miss her.
And if I’m honest I can’t imagine my life without her in it...yet today she leaves.
Cazzo. I throw back the covers that still smell so sweet of her and thrust up out of bed. I hit the shower and pray it will clear the fog in my head, the ache in my body and make today...easy.
Because it should be easy. The wedding was a success, the guests all depart today and I’ll have my new home to myself. Time to enjoy it while getting back to business as usual.
But I’m still mentally coaching myself an hour later when I’m pacing the hallway and resisting the urge to go to Faye’s room and ask... And ask what, exactly?
Don’t leave?
Stay a little longer?
Let’s have sex a little longer?
Let’s have fun?
Because, let’s face it, I’m not about to offer more. I can’t.
‘Morning, Rafael.’
I spin on the spot and I see my mother coming towards me. Sans make-up and grinning widely.
‘I’m glad I caught you. Can we talk?’
‘Si, Mamma.’
She stalls, her eyes glisten and I realise what I’ve done. I’ve called her Mamma for the first time in too many years to count.
She lifts her hands to my cheeks and her smile softens. ‘Mio amata figliolo.’
My beloved son.
The words resonate through me, out of me. My own eyes spike and, Gesù, I don’t cry. I don’t. But it’s choking up through my chest, stinging the backs of my eyes.
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