“You look stunning, cara,” he said, and the look in his eyes was confirmation enough she’d done right.
And as she stood there twirling around in front of him, she realized he had never told her what to buy, had never even told her to go shopping for a dress at all. Apparently he wasn’t worried about what she would wear and what his friends would think of her, wasn’t worried at all she’d make the right impression, whatever that might be. He hadn’t coached her in what to talk about and what subjects to avoid. And a wonderful feeling of warmth and love filled her as she looked at him, this man who seemed to like her just the way she was, who made her feel special and beautiful and loveable.
She threw her arms around him and kissed him with all the love she felt, and then somehow the dress came off because he said he liked her naked even better than dressed.
And as she reveled in the feel of his mouth and hands making music with her body, she ignored the fear that surfaced from dark corners. Don’t love him too much, the voice said. Soon you will leave.
They were late arriving at the party.
The apartment to which they were invited resembled the movie set of a historical drama—ornate antique furniture gleamed with regal elegance, crystal chandeliers glittered, exotic carpets glowed like jewels on pale marble floors. The people, however, were not in costume, but gleamed and glittered in a more contemporary fashion.
One beautiful, sophisticated woman made a special impression. An old friend, Massimo had said when he introduced her, but Charli’s feminine intuition told her that the elegant Elena had ambitions beyond being an old friend. Massimo, however, paid her no special attention, and besides, if he wanted this Elena, he would have had her, wouldn’t he?
Charli was happy she’d gone shopping and bought herself a new dress, because with all the elegance floating around among the antiques she would surely have felt way out of her league fashion-wise. Italian women dressed up and they did it very well. They had a way of carrying themselves that made them look elegant and gorgeous.
“Having a good time?” Massimo whispered in her ear as he entwined his fingers with hers.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “This is a very interesting experience. What about you?”
“Not so interesting for me,” he said and smiled at her wickedly. “I keep looking at you and my head loses all intelligent thought, which makes me useless for important conversation.”
She widened her eyes in innocent shock. “You mean I make you dumb and dull?”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” He sighed helplessly. “I think we should go home and I will explain it to you.”
Her feet hurt and Charli found a terrace in a cobblestoned side street and ordered a caffè fredo. A little caffeine to perk up her wilted energy. All day she’d been roaming the city and now it was time to go home. Back to the apartment, she corrected herself. It is not home. She pushed the thought away.
She sipped the glass of sweet, cold coffee and observed the other people sitting at the small tables, mostly Italians, drinking lurid yellow drinks and munching potato chips. Across the street the plastered buildings had green shutters and looked in need of a power wash. The shops on the street-level, however, were chic and upscale—all big name Italian designers.
She loved walking around Rome, seeing all the famous sites she had known from pictures and television only, and was in awe of the beautiful architecture and art all around, so much more impressive now that she saw it all in reality. The October weather was perfection and she loved the atmosphere of the city. In the evenings they went out to dinner to wonderful restaurants, with Massimo’s friends or just the two of them.
At night they slept curled up together. Waking up next to Massimo each morning filled her with bliss.
Her coffee finished, Charli paid and set off in the direction of the Piazza Venezia, looking forward to the evening with Massimo.
She felt happy. She felt happy most of the time these days.
It’s all a dream, she told herself one morning as she looked down on Massimo’s sleeping face. One day soon you will wake up and it will be over. He will no longer sleep next to you. The thought filled her with sudden terror. Stop it, stop it, she admonished herself. Enjoy what you have now.
And what was it that she had now?
A temporary love affair with a handsome, charming Italian.
And she’d made the fatal mistake of falling in love.
No, it was more than that. It was more than just that passionate, hot, tremulous feeling of floating and being in love. The feeling had grown roots, was deeper, less transient. Love. She loved him. He had become part of her, had wriggled his way into her heart with his warm smile, his affectionate touching and the way he looked at her as if she was the most precious thing on earth. He liked her just the way she was. He was loving and considerate and funny and sometimes a tad too arrogant, too authoritarian, but it was part of his Italian nature and she loved him.
Oh, God, she thought, how can I give him up now?
If only she could tell him she loved him, that she wanted him always. That she wanted to be married and have babies and celebrate a thirty-year wedding anniversary.
But she couldn’t tell him that. She’d made a deal, an unspoken agreement, and she should keep to it. Besides, she had her pride. She wasn’t going to beg for something he wouldn’t offer freely.
But there was always the secret hope whispering at the edges of her consciousness. Could Massimo change his mind? Would he really want to end what they had together?
He never mentioned it, never talked about her leaving, as if it was not something he ever even thought about.
If it ended as he wanted it to, if he let her leave and didn’t ask her to come back to him, would she be able to bear it?
She would have to. She’d have to start over. Start another chapter in her life.
Wrapped in her kimono, Charli stood in front of her dressing table and searched for a pair of earrings she wanted to wear. She watched Massimo in the mirror. He took off his jacket and tie and pulled his shirt out of his trousers. She liked watching him take off his clothes, even if only because he wanted to change before they were going out to dinner. She liked seeing his lean brown hands work the buttons on his shirt. He shrugged out of it, exposing his chest and flat brown stomach. She loved the way the soft, dark chest hair tapered down and disappeared below his belt.
His movements were all familiar. She knew what was coming next. He’d sit down on the side of the bed and pull off his shoes and socks, then get up again and unbuckle his belt, slide down the zip and take off his trousers.
Ten days left. After that she’d be home again, alone, and watching the simple ritual of Massimo’s undressing would be something of the past.
She was making herself miserable counting down the days to her departure, but she couldn’t help herself.
Hope kept peeking around the corner of her thoughts. Maybe Massimo would change his mind about ending the affair. Because he loved her. Because he could not bear to think of his life without her in it.
When it’s over, it’s over.
Hope was a terrible traitor.
She kept wondering about his wife, what hold she had on him even now after all those years. But she knew better than to broach that subject again.
She found the earrings and put them aside. She’d have a quick shower before dressing for dinner. In the mirror she saw Massimo sit down on the edge of the bed—her side of the bed—and on the bedside table her cellphone rang.
He picked it up and handed it to her. She flipped it open and found the high school in Philadelphia on the line. She listened with growing trepidation as someone explained to her that the teacher she was going to take over for in January had problems with her pregnancy and on doctor’s orders had to stop working and stay home.
Was it possible for Charli to take over immediately? How long would it take her to get back to Philadelphia?
Not much time at all.
Her little apartment was already dealt with. Her clothes were here in Rome. Flights to the States left every day.
Ten days until she’d been planning to leave. Ten days with Massimo. It was all she had left. Her departure date felt like doomsday in her mind, looming ever closer. Depression was settling in already, casting a shadow over the joy of being with Massimo.
She glanced over at him, standing there naked but for his black Italian briefs, looking sinfully sexy with his hair rumpled and his eyes full of deep secrets she would never know. Her Italian lover.
That was what he was and all he would ever be. There was no hope for the future. The torture of that knowledge was getting to her. She couldn’t take it anymore.
When it’s over, it’s over.
So why not just be done with it and start her life over now instead of stretching out the agony for another ten hopeless days of longing and despair?
“I’ll come as soon as I can,” she heard herself say. “I’ll check the flights and call you later.”
Her hand trembled as she put the phone down. She felt as if she’d just jumped from a plane without a parachute. Massimo was pulling on another pair of trousers and looked at her with his eyebrows raised.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone alarmed. “Are you leaving?”
She looked at him, the man who liked her just the way she was, who made such wonderful love to her, who made her feel beautiful and desirable. Oh, God, she thought, what have I done? Surely they could have found someone else? What possessed me to agree? I can’t leave him.
You have to leave him, said a little voice.
She swallowed. Her throat ached. She couldn’t talk.
“Charli!” He sat down next to her on the side of the bed and took her hand.
She took a deep breath, swallowed again, gathered as much composure and pride as she could and manufactured a little smile.
“Yes, I have to leave earlier than I thought. Tomorrow, probably.”
“What?” His voice exploded into the air. “You can’t leave just yet!” Dark eyes flashing, hands gesturing, he was the very image of an outraged Latin lover. “I want you here, in my arms, in my bed!”
For another ten days, and then he’d let her go. After all, that was the plan and he had given no indication he wanted to change it.
“I’m sorry,” she said, trying desperately to keep her emotions under control. She needed to be businesslike about this.
“Why?” His eyes were full of smoldering fire. “Why do you have to go?”
So she told him about the problem, and her decision.
He was quiet for a moment, his body tense and still.
“Are you telling me they couldn’t find someone else and they’re dragging you all the way back from Italy?”
“They may well be able to find someone else. The trouble is they don’t want the kids to have to deal with a change of teacher more often than necessary. It doesn’t promote learning.”
“What if you had said no?”
“I might lose the job in January if the person they find can stay for the whole period that the teacher is gone.”
She couldn’t afford to lose that job, and it was more than money she needed. She’d need to be busy.
“It’s only a matter of nine days if I leave tomorrow, Massimo,” she said as if nine days was nothing. Nine days of being together, eating together, making love together.
She came to her feet and headed for the bathroom, wanting nothing more than to escape.
All it would take for her to stay was for him to ask her to be part of his life, his future. Surely he understood that?
“Very well, then,” he said behind her, his voice controlled now and businesslike. “I am not happy to see you leave so soon, but this is your decision.”
She caught his bleak expression in the mirror and her heart contracted. She went into the bathroom, turned on the shower and got in. But all the water pouring over her didn’t help calm her and she found herself crying silently, miserably.
As planned, they went out to dinner at the Boccondivino with some of Massimo’s friends. She managed to live through it, although she hardly tasted the food, which was a crime since it was reputed to be superb. Massimo seemed in fine shape, laughing and having a good time. She hated him for it.
Feeling helpless, angry and desperate all at the same time, she wished all of this was over. One painful lesson she had learned from this Italian adventure: she simply was not the type to have a temporary love affair and walk away untouched afterward. She was touched in every possible way.
Unexpectedly, the elegant Elena joined them halfway through, which didn’t do Charli’s mood any good. The woman was a huntress and her eyes were on her prey.
Charli kept watching Massimo and wondered time and again what made him so afraid of the future. She drank more wine than she should have, forcing herself to be cheery.
“You are leaving next week, yes?” Elena asked. Her tone was casual enough, but Charli suspected the woman couldn’t wait to see her gone. Well, she had good news for her.
“Actually, no,” she said, smiling, sipping more wine. “I’m catching a flight tomorrow.”
“Oh, really?” Elena’s eyes widened, then she smiled. “Well, then…” She turned to Massimo, rattled off something in Italian Charli couldn’t begin to grasp.
Well, for all she cared the woman might have invited herself into his bed. It was none of her business what happened after tomorrow. She finished her wine and a waiter duly poured her some more.
Back at the apartment later, Massimo got ready for bed while she lingered until he came up to her, put his arms around her and, without a word, began to kiss her passionately while nudging her toward the bed, lowering her onto it.
“This is our last night. Let’s not waste it, cara,” he whispered. “I will miss you.”
She wanted to lash out at him in anger, say hurtful things, make him hurt like she was hurting herself, yet all she did was kiss him back with a desperate hunger.
One last night.
She clung to him all through the endless dark hours and as she lay awake she silently begged him to say the words she wanted to hear.
He didn’t say them.
When morning came she made herself freeze over, forced herself not to feel. Like an automaton she went through the motions of showering and dressing and getting her suitcases closed.
She called a taxi to take her to the airport, which displeased Massimo when she told him.
“Don’t be foolish. I shall drive you, of course,” he said in an authoritarian tone that severely annoyed her.
She glared at him. Her anger was her friend. It protected her from going to pieces. “Don’t order me around, Massimo! I want to take a taxi.” She was going to Valentina’s school first to say goodbye, then on to the airport. Dragging out her goodbye to Massimo would only make things worse. “Just go to your office and work. I’ll be fine.”
He scowled at her, his chin steely. “It’s all right for you to order me around?”
She shrugged. “I’ll be gone in ten minutes, so who cares?” She turned around as her eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t stand it. This was the end, and they were sniping at each other. She felt as if she was about to fall apart.
He wrapped his arms around her, turning her around, then put her head against his chest. He smelled familiar, felt familiar. He was everything she loved and wanted. She felt him stroking her hair.
“This is no way to say goodbye,” he said softly. “We must not part in anger. You are a very special woman, Charli, and I will always treasure…”
She pushed herself away. “Oh, shut up, Massimo! I so don’t want to hear this now!” Her body rigid, she fought the urge to cry and stamp her feet and tell him he was a coward and a—
Stop it! stop it! she admonished herself. Have a little class.
Where the strength came from, she would never know. But as the bell rang to announce the arrival of the taxi, she square
d her shoulders, tugged down her shirt and looked right at him.
“Okay, you’re right, this isn’t any way to part.” She stood on tiptoe, kissed him quickly on the mouth and smiled. “Goodbye, Massimo. Thank you for a wonderful time in Italy.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“WHAT do you want to do tonight?” Bree asked.
Charli shifted the phone to her other hand and looked out the window. It was snowing again. The winter had started early and was dragging on. It was only the first week in January and much more nasty weather was to come for certain. She felt like crawling under the covers and not coming out until spring. She wanted to close her eyes on the misery in her heart and not wake up until she could feel the sun again.
That not being a possibility, she’d better figure out what to do with this Saturday night.
“What are the options?” she asked.
“We can dress up and see if we can find some action at the Shangri-La.”
“No.”
“I can call my new neighbors across the hall and see if they want to go out to dinner to that new Ethiopian restaurant.”
“No.”
“We can rent some psycho-thrillers, get a bottle of wine, order Chinese and stay in.”
“Perfect.”
She wouldn’t have to dress up or be charming to those new people. She just wanted to stay home. She didn’t even feel like expending the energy to go over to Bree’s place on the next block. “Come over here,” she said. “I have wine and a box of really good chocolates. And if you’re too scared to go home alone later, you can just crash on the couch.”
Later, as she cleared the coffee table of books and papers to make space for the food and the wine, she wondered if she was being fair to Bree. She was a bore. She didn’t want to go out, didn’t feel like dating. Couldn’t bear the thought of another man touching her, kissing her.
Before putting away the laptop, she checked her e-mail and found a message from Valentina. Charli, she wrote, the Caribbean is awesome!
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