Our Little Secret

by Rachael Stewart

‘You said that already.’ And now I feel guilty. It wasn’t his fault I fell in love. I did that all by myself. ‘Sorry. I just... I don’t know why you’re here.’

  ‘You don’t need to apologise. I’m just... I’m just taking you in. Taking in that I’m really here with you.’ He rubs a hand down his face. ‘The last two weeks have felt like for ever, and the longer I went without you the more I wondered whether I would ever see you again.’

  ‘Well, that was the plan, wasn’t it?’ I turn and take up my glass, throwing back a gulp, needing it to quash the dizzying mass rising up inside. ‘To have our fun and move on.’

  He drags in a breath. ‘It was.’

  ‘So...?’

  He’s quiet and I flick him a look, about to prompt again when he gestures to the wine. ‘Can I take you up on a glass...per favore?’

  I take another glass down off the shelf and pour, not caring when it sloshes over the side. He reaches out to take it from me, but I place it on the counter-top between us—anything to avoid the risk of our fingers touching, no matter how briefly.

  He doesn’t react to the move, but I know he notices. ‘Grazie.’

  And then I wait.

  ‘I did as you suggested,’ he says eventually, so quietly I have to strain to hear him over the rain that pounds against the patio doors. I look at it now, watching as it runs rivers down the glass, obscuring the outdoors. ‘I spoke to my mother about the past, about what happened to my father and the years that followed.’

  My lips lift just a little at the corners because, though I may be hurting, I still care. ‘That’s good.’

  ‘We had a long talk, an honest one, and you were right. She was lonely; she was trying to fill the void my father left without risking her heart again. She chose men for fun, for companionship, but never chose anyone she would risk loving again.’

  I nod so he knows I’m listening.

  ‘She avoided love for so long but then, when Giovanni came along, it changed everything. She wants to be happy again; she wants to be with him. She’s decided love is worth the risk after all.’

  I give him the smallest of smiles as I recall their potted history. ‘They did look happy together.’

  ‘They are happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen Mamma look.’

  I frown. ‘You called her Mamma?’

  His mouth twitches into a smile and it shaves years off his tormented face, making my heart bloom in spite of everything. ‘Si.’

  He works a hand through his damp hair and rain flicks off the ends.

  ‘God, you’re soaked, Rafael.’ I move into action, unable to ignore it. ‘Let me get you a towel.’

  He reaches out to stop me, his wet hand still warm on the exposed skin of my wrist. ‘I don’t care that I’m soaked. I only care for you.’

  Our eyes meet and my heart stutters inside my chest.

  ‘It’s not just my mother who has changed.’

  ‘Wh-what are you saying, Rafael?’

  ‘That I too believe love is worth the risk.’

  I take a shallow breath. He can’t mean... It’s not possible.

  ‘These two weeks without you, Faye, I’ve been grieving. Grieving as though you were dead, when in actual fact you were here, living your life without me. I’ve been tormented, lost. And yet it was me that pushed you away, it’s me that let you leave, it’s me that couldn’t commit.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Now I want it all, Faye. I want to let love in, I want to give us a chance. I know I can’t change overnight, but if you’ll have me I can try to be that man. I can love you and do everything in my power to make you happy, to make us happy.’

  My lashes flutter closed, pins and needles creeping over my skin. I feel faint. The rush inside is so intense, so...

  ‘Faye...’ He pulls me against him, his arms so strong, so reassuring.

  I look up into his eyes. ‘Am I dreaming? Is this some cruel trick and any second now Dante’s going to jump out of the woodwork and shout, “Surprise!”?’

  He laughs, the gruff sound vibrating through his chest and into mine.

  ‘No, cara mia. I am in love with you. Not even my fear could stop that from happening. And it turns out, once you love someone, losing them just isn’t an option, not when they still walk the earth.’

  ‘Are you saying I left you no choice?’ A smile plays about my lips as I look up into his eyes and see all that I’ve come to love looking back at me.

  ‘I’m saying exactly that.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound very romantic.’

  He laughs again and rakes a hand through my hair, reminding me of the hair tie that’s still in it, and the crazy mass that has escaped, and my unmade, sleep-deprived face, and... Oh, my God, I really do look a mess. But he doesn’t care. He loves me. I can see it all in his molten-chocolate eyes that blaze and love in one.

  ‘I admit to needing help in that department.’

  ‘In being romantic?’

  ‘Si.’

  ‘Lesson one.’ I smile widely. ‘Close your eyes so you can’t see what a mess I look.’

  ‘No, I’m not closing my eyes when they have been starved of you for two weeks. And you look incredible.’

  ‘Still exquisite?’ I ask, my eyes wide with teasing pessimism.

  ‘Si.’ He strokes his fingers along my jaw and cups my head in his hands as he studies me intently, the amber flecks in his gaze glinting with emotion. ‘Molto bella.’

  My eyes well up, the pain of the last two weeks fading in the warmth of his love and acceptance of his love.

  ‘Lesson two...’ I whisper.

  ‘Si?’

  ‘Kiss me.’

  I glimpse the joy in his smile seconds before his lips brush over mine and I tremble in his hold.

  ‘Ti amo, Faye.’ He whispers against my lips and kisses me again. ‘Ti amo molto.’

  I fork my hands through his damp hair and hold him to me as I look up into his eyes. ‘I could listen to you say that for ever.’

  ‘Then it’s a good job I plan on telling you every day for the rest of my life,’ he murmurs. ‘If you’ll listen to it.’

  ‘I can go one better than just listening.’

  ‘You can?’

  ‘Si.’ I smile softly. ‘Ti amo, Rafael. Ti amo molto.’

  And then I kiss him back with all the love blooming wild inside, knowing that I have all I could ever wish for in my arms right now.

  I don’t need marriage, I don’t need a ring to bind us, I just need this...

  Our love.

  EPILOGUE

  Five years later, Castello d’Amore, Tuscany

  ‘EDUARDO, COME HERE this minuto!’

  I chuckle at Faye. I can’t help it. ‘You know it’s better for him if you say it in one language or the other, cara mia. If you mix it up, heaven knows what he’ll learn.’

  She turns to look at me, her skin flushed, her eyes as bright and beautiful as ever, especially in the silver gown that makes her eyes appear more ethereal, her skin more bronzed, her baby bump more pronounced. She radiates sunshine and happiness and I swear my chest is fit to burst with pride.

  ‘Stop preaching to me about using our languages correctly and start helping, Raf. We’re going to be late.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. How can we be late? We are the hosts.’

  ‘It’s your mother’s wedding! The mayor is a busy man; we can’t expect him to hang about waiting for our papàtino to actually put on some clothes.’

  I chuckle harder and pull her in for a chaste kiss that causes a loud, ‘Eww!’ to erupt from waist-high. Eduardo has returned.

  ‘See, all we had to do is kiss and he would come running.’

  We both look down to find our naked boy scrunching up his eyes tightly. ‘Not looking.’

  ‘Can you not look and get dresse
d at the same time?’ Faye murmurs down at him.

  ‘It’s hot. Too hot.’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘But you can’t go to Nonna’s special day dressed in your underpants, and you also can’t do that special job I gave you, either.’

  He peeks at me out of one eye. ‘The special job?’

  ‘Si.’ I nod, my eyes wide as I encourage him to remember.

  ‘You want me to do that now?’

  ‘I think it might be nice.’

  Faye frowns at me and mouths ‘Job?’

  I just grin as Eduardo runs off. ‘You’ll see.’

  He’s back in minutes, his trousers on, his shirt done up all wonky and only one sock on. But it’s a start.

  I grin down at him. His skin is flushed from exertion, his eyes so like his mother’s, his skin the colour of mine. My chest swells ever more with pride. ‘You got it?’

  He nods his head rapidly, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. ‘Si.’

  ‘Rafael?’ Faye drawls. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Well, since Eduardo has the all-important task of being ring-bearer for Nonna today, I thought he could have a practice run with us first.’

  Her frown wavers as she looks from me to our boy, her eyes starting to well.

  ‘That’s your cue, Eduardo...’ I whisper, placing my hand on his shoulder.

  ‘But we need to kneel, Papà,’ he says to me. ‘I read about it on the internet.’

  I chuckle and Faye laughs shakily.

  ‘I think you’re right.’ I ruche up my right trouser leg and lower my left to the ground as our boy mimics me, taking the ring box from behind his back and opening it up.

  ‘Mamma, will you make Papà and me very happy and...?’ He looks at me, his frown scrunching up his entire face.

  I mouth agree and he nods quickly, his grin as big as his face as he offers the box.

  ‘Agree! To getting married?’

  We both stare up at her imploringly and she is shaking with joy, with laughter. ‘How can I say no to a proposal as romantic as that?’

  ‘Eww, I’m not romantic!’ our boy pipes up.

  She ruffles his hair. ‘You will be one day!’

  ‘And your answer?’ I say.

  We’ve talked about it many, many times, but there was no rush and, having been married before, it wasn’t top of her priorities. But with a wedding in the air and the wish to share the same name as our son, our unborn child too...

  ‘I say you no longer need lessons in how to be romantic, Rafael.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. I think you’ve graduated with honours.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And, yes! Si...yes.’ She cups my face and lowers her lips to mine for a chaste kiss. ‘It would make me the happiest woman and...’ she turns her attention to our son and kisses him too ‘...the happiest mother alive.’

  Which is lucky, since Eduardo is already trying to shove the ring on her pinkie.

  ‘Wrong finger, Papàtino,’ I say. ‘Maybe I should do this bit.’

  ‘Si, Papà.’ He shoves the ring and the box into my hands and runs from the room.

  ‘Hey! Where are you going?’

  ‘I’m going before there’s any more kissy-wissy stuff.’

  We both laugh and as I slip the ring on Faye’s finger I look down into her eyes and the words flow from me. ‘Tu mi completi.’

  ‘And you complete me, Rafael.’

  * * *

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Aurora Mountain Ski Resort

  Finger Lakes Region, New York

  DESTA HENNER WALKED into the main hall of the ski resort like a boss. That is, her shoulders were back, her chin held high, her steps assured, and nothing but confidence radiated from her body. That’s how her assistant, Nessa, described the way Desta entered any marketing meeting. Even thousands of miles away from the office, the same energy applied.

  Check-in to the Dear Lover weekend retreat had taken fifteen of the longest minutes of her life, possibly because she’d confirmed her attendance and made reservations at the last minute. Now she wore her name badge proudly and walked past all the people she didn’t know, giving nods and smiles before coming to a stop at the farthest corner of the room.

  This might be a mistake. Some things were better left unchanged. Especially good things, which was precisely what she’d had for the last three months. An online connection with an intelligent thirty-three-year-old man who shared her love of R&B music and foreplay. Who would’ve thought a virtual relationship could’ve brought her so much joy and fulfillment? More importantly, after all she’d been through, who would’ve thought she’d crave any of those things with a man again? Certainly not her, but she’d taken a chance when she’d signed up for the Dear Lover app. Tonight, she’d meet Dear Lover 1687 for the first time face-to-face.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  She spun around, barely noticing the trip in her pulse at the sound of a deep and alluring male voice.

  “Hello.” He was taller than her, so she tilted her head to meet his gaze.

  “Why’re you standing all the way over here by yourself? This is Mix ’n’ Mingle time.” She supposed he meant to highlight those words with the waggle of his eyebrows, but it just came across as weird. Besides, she knew what time it was. She’d read the agenda that had been emailed with her confirmation a couple times already.

  “I just arrived after a very long drive from the city.” Not exactly true. She’d gone to her room after checking in, taken a shower and changed for the welcome party. In addition to being tall, the man had an athletic build, sandy-brown hair cut low and neat, sea-green eyes and a charmin
g smile.

  Was this Dear Lover 1687?

  Dear Lover offered full anonymity; all posts went through their message board so personal email addresses were hidden. User identifications were numbers instead of some variation of the person’s name or nickname. And when couples linked up, they were strongly advised not to reveal any personally identifying information. So, she and Dear Lover 1687 hadn’t discussed anything outside of world news, favorite foods, dream vacations and, of course, every sexual position, fetish and/or fantasy they’d ever had. None of which were helpful in figuring out if he was the guy standing in front of her.

  “Well, it’s Friday, and I don’t care what my watch says. It’s five o’clock somewhere, so we’re having a drink.” He snagged two champagne flutes from a passing server’s tray and offered her one.

  Accepting the glass with a slow smile was polite, but she needed to cut to the chase. “What’s your user number? Aren’t we supposed to wear them so we can meet up with the one we’ve been talking to?” After all, that was the purpose of being here. While the Dear Lover app was advertised as just a social networking site for adults, private events were held for their members four times a year. Attendance was voluntary.

  Before answering her question, the cheerful green-eyed guy put the glass to his lips, emptied the contents and then stuck a hand in his pocket to pull out a badge.

  “This is a long weekend, baby. We’re not confined to one meetup.” Again with the pet names he probably thought were cute and the strange eyebrow waggling. This time, after she’d peeped the number on his badge, both actions were registering as creepy.

  Plus, he wasn’t Dear Lover 1687.

  “I only came to meet one person.” In case he didn’t understand the words, she shook her head so vehemently it almost caused an instant headache.

  “But it’s time to mingle.” No doubt hunting for another drink or possibly another meetup, he searched the crowd before returning his attention to her. “And you look hot in that dress. We can keep each other company until our matches arrive.”

  “I’d rather not.” She knew it sounded snippy and probably a little uptight, which were words she’d heard used to describe herself before, but it wasn’t intentional. “To be honest, I’m kind of nervous about this first meeting, so I’d really like to get it over with.”