A tear spilled from Lillian’s eye. “I’m sorry.” She touched her thumb to his lips. “But you know . . . I’m not sure that Freddie loves me the way you do. I don’t think he ever has.”
Anton touched his forehead to hers. “I’m glad you came back, because if I lost you, I don’t think I would ever recover.”
Lillian remained with Anton until dawn, then kissed him good-bye at the front door of the villa and hurried away, across the stone veranda and down the wide steps. Beyond the gate, she jogged through Cypress Row to the chapel and wine cellars and around the bend to the lower forest.
A thick mist floated through the valleys. The air smelled fresh, like ripening fruit. Crows cawed in the highest branches of the tall umbrella pines, and she regarded the majesty of the world with a renewed sense of wonder. She had never felt more alive, despite something dreadful that lay in her immediate future.
Instead of going straight back to the guest suite, where she would be forced to explain herself to Freddie and inflict terrible pain upon him, she decided to live a few minutes longer in a state of existence where he did not yet know the truth. Where he was sleeping soundly. Happy. The world would come crashing down on him soon enough. She might as well take this opportunity to linger in the status quo and prepare the right words.
Taking a left turn on the dirt road in the forest, she turned toward the swimming pool. It was a five-minute walk.
The water was tranquil in the early-morning light of dawn. She glanced around to ensure that she was alone, then slipped out of her dress, left it by the side of the pool, and dived naked into the cool depths.
Lillian swam laps, and the vigorous exercise strengthened her resolve. She had no regrets about her decision. To the contrary, she felt an invigorating sense of freedom and exultation, as if she had just been reborn. She believed that one day, after Freddie moved on and published his book, he would feel the same. His writing was what mattered to him most. Lillian’s presence in his life was merely incidental. She was convenient in all things practical, like earning a steady paycheck and being there for him as a sounding board when it came to his book. She did not provide magic in his world. He found that in his stories while tapping away on the typewriter keys. Most importantly, he did not want children with her. He only pretended to—so that she would stay.
Later, after her swim, she slipped into her dress and strolled to the edge of the terrace to gaze across the rolling hills of Tuscany and the fiery pink sunrise. This was her magic. Her bliss. It was Anton’s bliss too.
Lillian turned and walked back through the forest lane to the guest suite where Freddie was sleeping in their bed. She stared at the old stone building and took a deep breath to prepare herself, then removed her shoes and tiptoed barefoot up the steps. Quietly she opened the door, entered, and closed it behind her with a gentle click, so as not to wake him.
Their bedroom door was closed, so she went to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. When it finished gurgling, she poured herself a cup and sat at the table, where she sipped slowly in the early-morning silence, searching her mind for the right words—words that would deliver the truth to Freddie while sparing him as much pain as possible.
Lillian finally finished her coffee and gathered the courage to get up from the table and walk to the bedroom. She paused for a moment, closed her eyes, and took a breath, then opened the door.
She found herself dumbstruck.
The bed was empty. Freddie was not there.
CHAPTER 23
LILLIAN
The covers were tousled, but Freddie was gone. For several seconds, Lillian stood frozen in the doorway, her hand on the knob, her heart racing. Where was he?
She ran upstairs to the second bedroom and checked there, as well as the bathroom.
Good God. Did he know where she had gone during the night?
Lillian dashed out the door and down the steps to look for the car. It was parked under the overhang, which meant he hadn’t driven anywhere.
Hurrying to the patio, she gazed about in all directions, across the vineyards and olive orchards, wondering if he had gone for a