Right now her fear is winning, even when it’s been explained to her, even when she knows why she is acting the way she is.
I get it, though. I really do. I have the same fears, the fear that Vanni may make me choose between her and him. Fears that once we move past the physical fling and start opening up to each other, there will be no turning back.
The fear that I could lose her.
But we’re already at that point. I have chosen her over the fear.
I’m not sure she will do the same.
“You know, you can’t ignore me forever,” I tell her as we sit in the ferry lineup, waiting for the ship to pull in. It’s been a long, quiet drive here. “I am right here in this car and soon we will be back at Villa Rosa, and I will be right there too.”
She presses her lips together, but her eyes look wet, no longer angry. Just sad.
“I know this is an uncomfortable conversation, Grace,” I say gently. “I know that you would rather run away from it and give me the silent treatment. But we need to talk about it. Together. We are both adults and we both care about each other very much. So, let’s prove that, okay?”
She exhales loudly and looks down at her hands. “I’m sorry,” she says.
“Okay. I am sorry too. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Her head snaps up, a hint of anger in her eyes again. “No, you really shouldn’t have.”
I hold up my hands in peace. “I know it wasn’t my place to say anything when you specifically told me not to. I just … I had to defend myself. I had to defend you. What we have.”
“But I don’t know what we have,” she cries out. “What we are.”
I twist in my seat to look at her, trying to find the patience. “What do you want? How about we start with you? What do you want from me? From us?”
She looks away, and I reach out, pressing my fingers under her chin until she turns her head to face me. I dip my head, searching her eyes. “Hey? What do you want? Do you just want us to fuck for the rest of the time you’re here? That’s it? Just the sex? Then fine. If that’s what you want, I can do that. I don’t want to, but I will do it for you. I respect you too much to go against your wishes.”
She blinks. “What do you want?”
“No, no,” I say, dropping my hand and placing my palm on her forearm, giving it a light squeeze. “This is about you right now.”
“But you are part of it,” she says. “Don’t you see? I don’t … I can’t trust how you feel about me.”
I pull back, my heart squeezing. It feels like I’ve been slapped. “You can’t trust me? How can you say that?”
“Because!” she cries out. “I’m your muse. I’m the model for your statue. You need me to inspire you, and when you’re done creating art, then what? Then you’ll tire of me. You won’t want me anymore.”
“Grace,” I say roughly. “That is not true—”
“And you treat me as if I’m a problem to fix. Like a wounded bird that crashed into a window. Nursing my broken wing.”
“But you’re my bird.”
“So you see, it’s true!”
I breathe in sharply through my nose, trying to calm my thoughts. “I am not trying to fix you. We’ve talked about this. I am trying to help you. That’s all. And I don’t even need to help you anymore, or maybe I never did. You’re coming out of your shell now, your wing is fixed. It was all in you this whole time. You just had to … find yourself. And maybe you found yourself in me, or maybe you found it in yourself, or in this country, or at the bottom of a wine glass, but you’ve come so far. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you see that you don’t have any broken wings?”
A long breath escapes her and she leans back against the seat, staring at the ceiling. I watch as her chest rises and falls.
Moments pass.
“Musa,” I say softly. “I know this isn’t easy for you. All I’m asking is to put the fear aside for now and take a chance on me. You say you’re worried about Vanni and Jana, and I know