Crown of Confessions, page 5
“You’re not dreaming. I’m here. It’s me, Gaetano,” he said softly.
I went to kiss him again but he moved his face to the side, dodging my advance. Gaetano had never denied my affection before. My heart stopped, and my eyelids fluttered when reality set in.
This was no dream. This was real.
“What happened?” I choked out while looking at the pair of honey-brown eyes staring down at me.
“You fainted.”
“Fainted?” Blood rushed to my head and cheeks. “I’m sorry. I . . . I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay. I’m here.” He pressed a cup of water to my dry lips. A pained expression took hold. “Please drink. You’ll feel better.”
I sipped the cool water.
A smile streamed across his face, making my heart flutter. I tried to get up. “Whoa. I’m dizzy.”
“Stay still,” he said, his hand on my arm.
Strangers stared.
“She’ll be fine. È svenuta. She fainted.” Gaetano spoke to the people gathering around us. “Give her room, please.” His soft eyes peered at my face.
I looked at my surroundings. I was on the shop floor with something soft under my neck.
“I was afraid you’d hurt your head on the ground, so I put my jacket under your head.” He crouched protectively over my body.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Please, take another sip. Then I’ll try to sit you up.”
“You okay, Signora?” the shopkeeper asked.
“She’ll be fine,” Gaetano assured.
With double vision, I grabbed the cup and let the water cascade down my throat.
He picked me up in his arms. “There’s a bench outside. Let’s get you out in the fresh air. That should help.”
Afraid I would pass out again, I closed my eyes and gripped the cup. With each step, his muscular arms cradled me. He stared down at my face, then looked away quickly and placed me on the bench. He grabbed the cup from my hands and sat next to me.
“My purse. Do you have my purse?” I asked, panicked.
“Yes.” He placed my purse next to me. “The man in the store gave us this cup of water. We should thank him later. I asked for holy water for you, but they wouldn’t give me any,” he joked.
We both laughed, and my body relaxed. Even our laughter felt familiar.
“You’re the same. You still know how to make me laugh.”
“It’s wonderful to see you smile again, Violetta.”
“Thank you. It’s wonderful to see you at all. What are you doing here?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“Well . . .” I stammered as a pang of nausea crept up from the adrenaline.
“Are you all right? Do you need more water? You don’t look so good. Have you eaten?”
“Not since this morning.”
“Let’s get you something small to eat. I know a good trattoria around the corner. Can you walk?”
“I can try.” I attempted to stand. My body swayed.
Two arms grabbed at my hips to steady me.
“It’s a good thing it’s close, but if I need to, I’ll carry you.”
“Thank you. Stand close, just in case.”
“Here,” he said, then reached for my hand. “Is that better?”
“Yes, thanks.”
Dream or no dream, this was nothing short of a miracle. My heart felt whole again. My sadness ebbed, and as I was about to embrace the moment, I glanced down at the hand that firmly held mine.
No wedding ring.
He wasn’t married? What happened?
He might not have been married, but I still was—technically—to one of the biggest Mafia bosses in the country.
After a short walk along cobblestone streets, questions filled my mind. Answers would ultimately provide hope or add more confusion. Either way, we needed to air out our truths.
Gaetano squeezed my hand and guided us to a charming little trattoria on the corner. Tables and chairs sat on a patio with a pergola overhead, providing much-needed shade. Bougainvillea and wisteria grew through wooden slats and gave the air a welcome scent. A waiter sat us at a table that faced the street.
“Grazie,” Gaetano said to the man.
The waiter handed us menus.
“What are you hungry for?” Gaetano’s dreamy eyes peered down at the menu then back at me.
“Right now, I’ll eat anything.”
As soon as the waiter came by to pour water into our glasses and place bread on our table, Gaetano ordered for us in Italian.
I was captivated by the way he blended both languages almost perfectly now. His lips moved while his tongue massaged the words. It was intoxicating. The more he spoke, the more I was reminded of the days at Antonelli’s dinner table when he’d stumbled to read Shakespeare.
“You speak English very well now.”
“Yes. It’s good for business.”
“You’ve come a long way.” I smiled.
“We both have.”
“So, what are you doing here?”
“I’m here on business, looking for property. I plan to expand.” He spread his napkin over his lap. “And you? What are you doing here?”
“After serving as a nurse in the army, I decided to stay and tour Europe. Until about a month ago, I stayed with family in Calabria.”
His eyebrows shot up. “But wait, how? You were pregnant the last time I saw you.”
My daughter’s face burned a hole in my heart again. I sipped some water to dislodge the giant lump forming in my throat. “My daughter died. I miscarried after six months. And, well, Frank and I . . . he’s in jail. I left him,” I explained, holding back that I still wasn’t divorced. I rubbed at my temples.
“I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” He placed his hand on mine.
My pulse surged from his touch. “When I returned from Brooklyn, I needed to do something to help people. The army had nursing programs, so I enlisted and, well, here I am.” I took a bite of bread.
“And here you are.” He smiled.
“After the war, I had no reason to go home. I always wanted to visit Italy, and I’m so glad I did.”
He grinned. “It’s a beautiful country, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I also fought in the war.”
“Really?”
“I was drafted and deployed here in forty-four. I didn’t want to leave because my father had grown weak after his stroke, and I didn’t know how the winery would survive with only my mother and sisters running it. José and a few other workers stepped up to help out.”
I’d forgotten how unbelievably handsome he was. The same face and dreamy eyes stared back at me. He’d grown into his body. Firm shoulders and a perfect build filled out his suit. He was no longer the boy I remembered. He was a man. His hair was cut short and most of his curls were gone, but the same long brown lashes flickered against his irises in the sun. I focused my attention back on his mouth and held onto his every word.
He placed his hand on my arm. “Are you still dizzy? You look like you weren’t here for a minute.”
“I still can’t believe you’re here. I’m sorry, go ahead.”
He flashed my favorite crooked smile and continued. “Where was I? Oh yes, so when the war started, the wine business took a hit. People needed food, not wine. To keep my family afloat and the workers fed, José and I planted fruit to stay profitable. Now, the winery also produces apples, apricots, and peaches. We sell to local markets across California.”
“How’s your family?”
“They’re managing. It’s been tough on my mother with my father so weak.”
I thought about how much his mother despised me for my family’s allegiance to the Mafia. Time wouldn’t have changed that. “That must be hard. And your sisters? They must be so big now.”
“They’re doing well in American schools. They’ve made friends with the other children who live at the winery.”
“Oh yes, I remember. Who was that one girl? José’s daughter? The one who had a crush on you. E-something,” I teased.
“Espi, short for Esperanza. She’s terrific.” He smiled brightly. “She’s been a huge help to me over these few years. She knows the business from growing up in the winery. She helps my mother with everything from reconciling the books to handling large events. You name it, she does it. The girls are close to her and treat her like an older sister. After everything that’s happened, it makes me feel good to know that my mother has her by her side when I’m away.”
He spoke of her with reverence and admiration. I knew that look. That was the way he used to talk to me. A part of me was envious and also angry at myself for leaving him that day. But if I hadn’t, Frank would’ve killed him. I’d do it all over again to save his life. I loved him too much to let him suffer that fate. I tried not to be jealous of his past but hopeful of our reunion.
“She sounds lovely,” I said with a half-smile. “The war hit our family too. My father had to work with the US government and agricultural department to keep my brothers on the ranch. Ranchers and farmers took a huge hit since most men were out here, fighting.”
The waiter brought us a bottle of wine with our salads.
“Grazie,” Gaetano thanked him. “Wine?”
“No, thank you. I’ll have water today.” I hadn’t had any alcohol since I’d almost overdosed after Adelina’s death. “Please, continue.”
“When I returned, I told my father I wanted to expand our business in Italy. A few winemakers out here are doing well for themselves, so I came back to view property.”
“Sounds like business is good.”
“We’ve managed.” He took another sip of wine, closed his eyes, then swirled it in his mouth. He swallowed down deep, then licked his lips. “Hmm . . . Now that’s good wine.” He relaxed into a smile. “I’ve been visiting the many wine festivals in Italy and sampling our wine out here. I might try and open a winery right here in Rome. One day I’d like to have a vacation home here. I miss Italy.” A flash of sadness crushed his face. “It feels different now after all that’s happened, but some things are the same.”
The waiter came with a tray of antipasti.
“Here. Eat. Mangiate.”
I grabbed a piece of cheese and took a bite. I ate slowly. “How did you serve in the war?”
“I started as a foot soldier. Over time, they used me more as an interpreter. My knowledge of the English language has served me—and America—well.” He took a sip of his drink.
“An interpreter?” I smiled proudly. “Do you remember when Signora Antonelli used to watch us like a hawk?”
“What about your mother with her gun?” He laughed.
I cringed, and my lips pressed together. “God rest her soul.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She isn’t suffering anymore, and that’s what matters. She’s looking after my daughter in heaven. Does your family keep in contact with ole man Antonelli? I haven’t seen them in years. Pop still works with them from time to time.”
“My mother is very close with Signora Antonelli. They talk often. She feels indebted to them for taking us in after everything that happened.”
“To think I used to hate picking prunes, but then I met you.”
He smiled.
“I’m sorry. You were saying that you were an interpreter.”
“It was difficult at first. I felt disloyal. I grew up here, but America has given my family so much. I knew that what I relayed got people killed, and that part was hard.” His eyes went suddenly empty, followed by a brief strained silence. After a few seconds, he dragged his eyes back up to my face. “Cheers, Violetta. It’s amazing to see you again.” He forced a smile, then raised his glass to toast.
With his hand around his glass, I looked at the finger that was absent a wedding band. I clinked my glass against his, then set it down on the tablecloth. “Last time I saw you was at my mother’s funeral. You introduced me to someone. Are you married?”
He grimaced at the question. “That relationship is over,” he clipped, then looked down at the table.
“I’m sorry,” I lied.
“Long-distance relationships don’t seem to work. Time away from someone changes things.” His gaze fell. “Angelina worked for her father’s winery and had responsibilities to her family, as I have to mine. Besides,” he said, then gulped, “she wasn’t the one.”
My heart stopped and started again.
With renewed hope, I chose my words wisely. “I understand. Sometimes you meet someone, and you know there’ll never be anyone else like them—ever.” I stared into his eyes.
He broke focus and sipped on his drink. “Yes, well,” his voice stammered. “Right after we ended things, I was sent off to boot camp, so I haven’t had the time to pursue the company of a female.” He flashed a half-smile. “What about you?”
“There’s no one. Actually, there was someone . . . you.”
He shook his head. “Violetta . . .” His voice was pained.
“Gaetano, I need to apologize to you for what happened. I know I hurt you. I was only trying to . . .”
He put his hand up. “I don’t want to talk about that. It was a long time ago,” he said as the waiter arrived with our last course. “Grazie, good,” he exhaled as if the interruption was welcome. “Let’s eat.”
He avoided my eyes. He spun his pasta around his dish and then looked up at me. “Violetta, all I want to know is if you’re happier now that you left him. Everything else is in the past.”
“Yes, I’m happier. Happier because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here having lunch with you,” I said, hopeful.
“Salute. To friendships like ours.” He held his glass to mine.
I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut.
Friendships like ours? Really? Is that what we are now? Just friends? Was I misreading something?
We were alone in one of the most romantic places in the world together, and he only wanted to be friends? With our history, how could he appear so aloof? I lifted my glass to hide my disappointment. “To friends.” I let my glass touch his and put my head back, gulping what I wished was some finely aged Scotch. Water caught in my throat, and I coughed with force.
His brows shot up. “Are you all right?” He patted my back.
“Yes. Wrong pipe.” I cleared my throat. “I’m fine. Really. About today, I’m sorry I kissed you. I don’t know what came over me.”
He laughed. “You don’t need to apologize. I’ve had dreams like that too, but then I wake up.” His face grimaced, then a slow, forgiving smile warmed his cheeks. “No need to feel embarrassed. We have a history, you and me. It’s natural to return to old habits.”
“Yeah, I guess it is,” I said, trying to hide the sadness from my face. I needed to escape before I made a fool of myself and cried. I had to maintain some kind of dignity. I put down my fork. “I don’t think I should eat anymore. I don’t want to be sick.” I reached into my purse for money. “Here, this should cover my lunch. As for what you did for me today, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to repay you.” My voice quivered, and my cheeks flamed.
He pushed my money back to me. “When a man takes a woman to lunch, he pays. It’s on me.”
“I don’t want you to feel obligated. I can pay for my lunch. We’re just friends, remember?” My voice caught in my throat as I said the word friends out loud to the man I’d loved forever.
“I never do anything I don’t want to do. I’m not like some people.” Contempt coated his voice.
“Some people?” I suspected he meant me.
He reached for his wallet.
I rose from the table and grabbed my handbag. “I know you’ll never understand, but I left to protect you because I loved you. I didn’t have a choice. And after everything I’ve seen and done for those bastards, I know I did the right thing. I couldn’t let you die. I’m sorry, and I hope one day you’ll forgive me.” I blinked back tears.
Unable to meet my eyes, he spoke. “Violetta,” he sighed and reached for my hand. It was obvious that indifference was his weapon of choice to deal with the past.
If I was the only one to still have these feelings, I wouldn’t let him pity me. Tears filled my eyes. I adjusted my skirt and pushed in my chair. “Thank you for a lovely lunch. I should be getting back now. I need to lie down. This has been an emotional day. Goodbye, Gaetano,” I whispered, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. I pulled away fast and moved quickly around the other tables, passing the entrance and onto the street.
“Wait,” Gaetano yelled.
I glanced over my shoulder. Gaetano threw money on the table and chased after me. “You shouldn’t be alone after what happened. Please let me walk you to your hotel.”
“You don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine,” I said proudly.
“Please. I’ll feel better knowing you got to your hotel safe.”
“I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself.” I flicked my hair behind my shoulder and continued walking briskly.
“If that were true, you’d still be on the ground in front of the Basilica.”
I slowed and turned to him. Muscles in my arms and legs tensed, and my hands turned into balls. “How dare you! I’m sorry I hurt you, but you don’t have to punish me this way. You aren’t the only one who got hurt in all this. I’ll have you know that I never loved . . .”
“Stop,” he interjected. “Please stop.”
“I’m sorry I ruined your day and that you felt you had to help me. Good day, Mr. Sanna,” I clipped, and turned on my heels.
“It’s me who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he said, trying to catch up. He grabbed my hand and turned me around to look at him. “Please, Violetta. I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself.”
“It’s fine.” I rolled my eyes. It felt so strange. I’d never rolled my eyes at Gaetano—ever. Who had we become? Past hurt lingered around us.
He took a breath as softer eyes returned. “It was careless of me to speak so rudely to you. Please, let me walk you to your hotel.” His voice sounded defeated.
“If you must.” I let out a sharp breath. “I’m up the street.” We walked side by side in awkward silence for a few blocks. “This is it.” I pointed to the old building. We stopped in front. “It’s not fancy, but my father knows the owner. It was the only place I could rent for weeks at a time, and they promised a hot breakfast. The room is small, but it’s clean, and I have my own bathroom and tub,” I explained, then counted the seconds to get back to my room and cry my eyes out.
I went to kiss him again but he moved his face to the side, dodging my advance. Gaetano had never denied my affection before. My heart stopped, and my eyelids fluttered when reality set in.
This was no dream. This was real.
“What happened?” I choked out while looking at the pair of honey-brown eyes staring down at me.
“You fainted.”
“Fainted?” Blood rushed to my head and cheeks. “I’m sorry. I . . . I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay. I’m here.” He pressed a cup of water to my dry lips. A pained expression took hold. “Please drink. You’ll feel better.”
I sipped the cool water.
A smile streamed across his face, making my heart flutter. I tried to get up. “Whoa. I’m dizzy.”
“Stay still,” he said, his hand on my arm.
Strangers stared.
“She’ll be fine. È svenuta. She fainted.” Gaetano spoke to the people gathering around us. “Give her room, please.” His soft eyes peered at my face.
I looked at my surroundings. I was on the shop floor with something soft under my neck.
“I was afraid you’d hurt your head on the ground, so I put my jacket under your head.” He crouched protectively over my body.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Please, take another sip. Then I’ll try to sit you up.”
“You okay, Signora?” the shopkeeper asked.
“She’ll be fine,” Gaetano assured.
With double vision, I grabbed the cup and let the water cascade down my throat.
He picked me up in his arms. “There’s a bench outside. Let’s get you out in the fresh air. That should help.”
Afraid I would pass out again, I closed my eyes and gripped the cup. With each step, his muscular arms cradled me. He stared down at my face, then looked away quickly and placed me on the bench. He grabbed the cup from my hands and sat next to me.
“My purse. Do you have my purse?” I asked, panicked.
“Yes.” He placed my purse next to me. “The man in the store gave us this cup of water. We should thank him later. I asked for holy water for you, but they wouldn’t give me any,” he joked.
We both laughed, and my body relaxed. Even our laughter felt familiar.
“You’re the same. You still know how to make me laugh.”
“It’s wonderful to see you smile again, Violetta.”
“Thank you. It’s wonderful to see you at all. What are you doing here?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“Well . . .” I stammered as a pang of nausea crept up from the adrenaline.
“Are you all right? Do you need more water? You don’t look so good. Have you eaten?”
“Not since this morning.”
“Let’s get you something small to eat. I know a good trattoria around the corner. Can you walk?”
“I can try.” I attempted to stand. My body swayed.
Two arms grabbed at my hips to steady me.
“It’s a good thing it’s close, but if I need to, I’ll carry you.”
“Thank you. Stand close, just in case.”
“Here,” he said, then reached for my hand. “Is that better?”
“Yes, thanks.”
Dream or no dream, this was nothing short of a miracle. My heart felt whole again. My sadness ebbed, and as I was about to embrace the moment, I glanced down at the hand that firmly held mine.
No wedding ring.
He wasn’t married? What happened?
He might not have been married, but I still was—technically—to one of the biggest Mafia bosses in the country.
After a short walk along cobblestone streets, questions filled my mind. Answers would ultimately provide hope or add more confusion. Either way, we needed to air out our truths.
Gaetano squeezed my hand and guided us to a charming little trattoria on the corner. Tables and chairs sat on a patio with a pergola overhead, providing much-needed shade. Bougainvillea and wisteria grew through wooden slats and gave the air a welcome scent. A waiter sat us at a table that faced the street.
“Grazie,” Gaetano said to the man.
The waiter handed us menus.
“What are you hungry for?” Gaetano’s dreamy eyes peered down at the menu then back at me.
“Right now, I’ll eat anything.”
As soon as the waiter came by to pour water into our glasses and place bread on our table, Gaetano ordered for us in Italian.
I was captivated by the way he blended both languages almost perfectly now. His lips moved while his tongue massaged the words. It was intoxicating. The more he spoke, the more I was reminded of the days at Antonelli’s dinner table when he’d stumbled to read Shakespeare.
“You speak English very well now.”
“Yes. It’s good for business.”
“You’ve come a long way.” I smiled.
“We both have.”
“So, what are you doing here?”
“I’m here on business, looking for property. I plan to expand.” He spread his napkin over his lap. “And you? What are you doing here?”
“After serving as a nurse in the army, I decided to stay and tour Europe. Until about a month ago, I stayed with family in Calabria.”
His eyebrows shot up. “But wait, how? You were pregnant the last time I saw you.”
My daughter’s face burned a hole in my heart again. I sipped some water to dislodge the giant lump forming in my throat. “My daughter died. I miscarried after six months. And, well, Frank and I . . . he’s in jail. I left him,” I explained, holding back that I still wasn’t divorced. I rubbed at my temples.
“I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” He placed his hand on mine.
My pulse surged from his touch. “When I returned from Brooklyn, I needed to do something to help people. The army had nursing programs, so I enlisted and, well, here I am.” I took a bite of bread.
“And here you are.” He smiled.
“After the war, I had no reason to go home. I always wanted to visit Italy, and I’m so glad I did.”
He grinned. “It’s a beautiful country, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I also fought in the war.”
“Really?”
“I was drafted and deployed here in forty-four. I didn’t want to leave because my father had grown weak after his stroke, and I didn’t know how the winery would survive with only my mother and sisters running it. José and a few other workers stepped up to help out.”
I’d forgotten how unbelievably handsome he was. The same face and dreamy eyes stared back at me. He’d grown into his body. Firm shoulders and a perfect build filled out his suit. He was no longer the boy I remembered. He was a man. His hair was cut short and most of his curls were gone, but the same long brown lashes flickered against his irises in the sun. I focused my attention back on his mouth and held onto his every word.
He placed his hand on my arm. “Are you still dizzy? You look like you weren’t here for a minute.”
“I still can’t believe you’re here. I’m sorry, go ahead.”
He flashed my favorite crooked smile and continued. “Where was I? Oh yes, so when the war started, the wine business took a hit. People needed food, not wine. To keep my family afloat and the workers fed, José and I planted fruit to stay profitable. Now, the winery also produces apples, apricots, and peaches. We sell to local markets across California.”
“How’s your family?”
“They’re managing. It’s been tough on my mother with my father so weak.”
I thought about how much his mother despised me for my family’s allegiance to the Mafia. Time wouldn’t have changed that. “That must be hard. And your sisters? They must be so big now.”
“They’re doing well in American schools. They’ve made friends with the other children who live at the winery.”
“Oh yes, I remember. Who was that one girl? José’s daughter? The one who had a crush on you. E-something,” I teased.
“Espi, short for Esperanza. She’s terrific.” He smiled brightly. “She’s been a huge help to me over these few years. She knows the business from growing up in the winery. She helps my mother with everything from reconciling the books to handling large events. You name it, she does it. The girls are close to her and treat her like an older sister. After everything that’s happened, it makes me feel good to know that my mother has her by her side when I’m away.”
He spoke of her with reverence and admiration. I knew that look. That was the way he used to talk to me. A part of me was envious and also angry at myself for leaving him that day. But if I hadn’t, Frank would’ve killed him. I’d do it all over again to save his life. I loved him too much to let him suffer that fate. I tried not to be jealous of his past but hopeful of our reunion.
“She sounds lovely,” I said with a half-smile. “The war hit our family too. My father had to work with the US government and agricultural department to keep my brothers on the ranch. Ranchers and farmers took a huge hit since most men were out here, fighting.”
The waiter brought us a bottle of wine with our salads.
“Grazie,” Gaetano thanked him. “Wine?”
“No, thank you. I’ll have water today.” I hadn’t had any alcohol since I’d almost overdosed after Adelina’s death. “Please, continue.”
“When I returned, I told my father I wanted to expand our business in Italy. A few winemakers out here are doing well for themselves, so I came back to view property.”
“Sounds like business is good.”
“We’ve managed.” He took another sip of wine, closed his eyes, then swirled it in his mouth. He swallowed down deep, then licked his lips. “Hmm . . . Now that’s good wine.” He relaxed into a smile. “I’ve been visiting the many wine festivals in Italy and sampling our wine out here. I might try and open a winery right here in Rome. One day I’d like to have a vacation home here. I miss Italy.” A flash of sadness crushed his face. “It feels different now after all that’s happened, but some things are the same.”
The waiter came with a tray of antipasti.
“Here. Eat. Mangiate.”
I grabbed a piece of cheese and took a bite. I ate slowly. “How did you serve in the war?”
“I started as a foot soldier. Over time, they used me more as an interpreter. My knowledge of the English language has served me—and America—well.” He took a sip of his drink.
“An interpreter?” I smiled proudly. “Do you remember when Signora Antonelli used to watch us like a hawk?”
“What about your mother with her gun?” He laughed.
I cringed, and my lips pressed together. “God rest her soul.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She isn’t suffering anymore, and that’s what matters. She’s looking after my daughter in heaven. Does your family keep in contact with ole man Antonelli? I haven’t seen them in years. Pop still works with them from time to time.”
“My mother is very close with Signora Antonelli. They talk often. She feels indebted to them for taking us in after everything that happened.”
“To think I used to hate picking prunes, but then I met you.”
He smiled.
“I’m sorry. You were saying that you were an interpreter.”
“It was difficult at first. I felt disloyal. I grew up here, but America has given my family so much. I knew that what I relayed got people killed, and that part was hard.” His eyes went suddenly empty, followed by a brief strained silence. After a few seconds, he dragged his eyes back up to my face. “Cheers, Violetta. It’s amazing to see you again.” He forced a smile, then raised his glass to toast.
With his hand around his glass, I looked at the finger that was absent a wedding band. I clinked my glass against his, then set it down on the tablecloth. “Last time I saw you was at my mother’s funeral. You introduced me to someone. Are you married?”
He grimaced at the question. “That relationship is over,” he clipped, then looked down at the table.
“I’m sorry,” I lied.
“Long-distance relationships don’t seem to work. Time away from someone changes things.” His gaze fell. “Angelina worked for her father’s winery and had responsibilities to her family, as I have to mine. Besides,” he said, then gulped, “she wasn’t the one.”
My heart stopped and started again.
With renewed hope, I chose my words wisely. “I understand. Sometimes you meet someone, and you know there’ll never be anyone else like them—ever.” I stared into his eyes.
He broke focus and sipped on his drink. “Yes, well,” his voice stammered. “Right after we ended things, I was sent off to boot camp, so I haven’t had the time to pursue the company of a female.” He flashed a half-smile. “What about you?”
“There’s no one. Actually, there was someone . . . you.”
He shook his head. “Violetta . . .” His voice was pained.
“Gaetano, I need to apologize to you for what happened. I know I hurt you. I was only trying to . . .”
He put his hand up. “I don’t want to talk about that. It was a long time ago,” he said as the waiter arrived with our last course. “Grazie, good,” he exhaled as if the interruption was welcome. “Let’s eat.”
He avoided my eyes. He spun his pasta around his dish and then looked up at me. “Violetta, all I want to know is if you’re happier now that you left him. Everything else is in the past.”
“Yes, I’m happier. Happier because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here having lunch with you,” I said, hopeful.
“Salute. To friendships like ours.” He held his glass to mine.
I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut.
Friendships like ours? Really? Is that what we are now? Just friends? Was I misreading something?
We were alone in one of the most romantic places in the world together, and he only wanted to be friends? With our history, how could he appear so aloof? I lifted my glass to hide my disappointment. “To friends.” I let my glass touch his and put my head back, gulping what I wished was some finely aged Scotch. Water caught in my throat, and I coughed with force.
His brows shot up. “Are you all right?” He patted my back.
“Yes. Wrong pipe.” I cleared my throat. “I’m fine. Really. About today, I’m sorry I kissed you. I don’t know what came over me.”
He laughed. “You don’t need to apologize. I’ve had dreams like that too, but then I wake up.” His face grimaced, then a slow, forgiving smile warmed his cheeks. “No need to feel embarrassed. We have a history, you and me. It’s natural to return to old habits.”
“Yeah, I guess it is,” I said, trying to hide the sadness from my face. I needed to escape before I made a fool of myself and cried. I had to maintain some kind of dignity. I put down my fork. “I don’t think I should eat anymore. I don’t want to be sick.” I reached into my purse for money. “Here, this should cover my lunch. As for what you did for me today, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to repay you.” My voice quivered, and my cheeks flamed.
He pushed my money back to me. “When a man takes a woman to lunch, he pays. It’s on me.”
“I don’t want you to feel obligated. I can pay for my lunch. We’re just friends, remember?” My voice caught in my throat as I said the word friends out loud to the man I’d loved forever.
“I never do anything I don’t want to do. I’m not like some people.” Contempt coated his voice.
“Some people?” I suspected he meant me.
He reached for his wallet.
I rose from the table and grabbed my handbag. “I know you’ll never understand, but I left to protect you because I loved you. I didn’t have a choice. And after everything I’ve seen and done for those bastards, I know I did the right thing. I couldn’t let you die. I’m sorry, and I hope one day you’ll forgive me.” I blinked back tears.
Unable to meet my eyes, he spoke. “Violetta,” he sighed and reached for my hand. It was obvious that indifference was his weapon of choice to deal with the past.
If I was the only one to still have these feelings, I wouldn’t let him pity me. Tears filled my eyes. I adjusted my skirt and pushed in my chair. “Thank you for a lovely lunch. I should be getting back now. I need to lie down. This has been an emotional day. Goodbye, Gaetano,” I whispered, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. I pulled away fast and moved quickly around the other tables, passing the entrance and onto the street.
“Wait,” Gaetano yelled.
I glanced over my shoulder. Gaetano threw money on the table and chased after me. “You shouldn’t be alone after what happened. Please let me walk you to your hotel.”
“You don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine,” I said proudly.
“Please. I’ll feel better knowing you got to your hotel safe.”
“I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself.” I flicked my hair behind my shoulder and continued walking briskly.
“If that were true, you’d still be on the ground in front of the Basilica.”
I slowed and turned to him. Muscles in my arms and legs tensed, and my hands turned into balls. “How dare you! I’m sorry I hurt you, but you don’t have to punish me this way. You aren’t the only one who got hurt in all this. I’ll have you know that I never loved . . .”
“Stop,” he interjected. “Please stop.”
“I’m sorry I ruined your day and that you felt you had to help me. Good day, Mr. Sanna,” I clipped, and turned on my heels.
“It’s me who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he said, trying to catch up. He grabbed my hand and turned me around to look at him. “Please, Violetta. I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself.”
“It’s fine.” I rolled my eyes. It felt so strange. I’d never rolled my eyes at Gaetano—ever. Who had we become? Past hurt lingered around us.
He took a breath as softer eyes returned. “It was careless of me to speak so rudely to you. Please, let me walk you to your hotel.” His voice sounded defeated.
“If you must.” I let out a sharp breath. “I’m up the street.” We walked side by side in awkward silence for a few blocks. “This is it.” I pointed to the old building. We stopped in front. “It’s not fancy, but my father knows the owner. It was the only place I could rent for weeks at a time, and they promised a hot breakfast. The room is small, but it’s clean, and I have my own bathroom and tub,” I explained, then counted the seconds to get back to my room and cry my eyes out.
