either. You feel guilty for writing on your own, for having your own career, maybe even for finding me, but you have to remind yourself, this is what Robyn wants for you. She wants you to continue writing. She wants you to stand on your own two feet. And maybe, just maybe, she wants you to meet a nice man with a magic cock who will set your heart on fire.” I swallow. “Maybe that man could be me.”
A delicate smile curves her lips, and she squints at me thoughtfully. “I would like that to be you,” she whispers.
I want so badly to give my heart away to her. All of it. Saving none of it for later, unsure of what she’ll do with it. No, I want her to have it all.
I don’t know what stops me. Maybe that fear I said I would ignore.
Maybe I just don’t want to ruin the moment. I feel like we just broke through something, something that we’ve both been battling for and battling against.
“It is me,” I tell her, leaning in to kiss her on the lips. I whisper against her mouth. “But please, do me a favor.”
“What?”
I bring my mouth to her neck, kissing her sweetly before I press my lips against her ear. “Please. If you find yourself falling in love with me, don’t stop it. Don’t hold back. Don’t deny yourself that. Let yourself love me.”
I pull back and pin her with my gaze, hoping she takes me seriously.
She’s blinking at me, seeming like she wants to say yes.
Then there’s a frantic tapping at the window, and I look up with a start.
A ferry worker is angrily motioning for us to go. During all of this, we completely missed the fact that we are supposed to be boarding.
“Spiacente!” I apologize to the worker and then quickly start the car, the engine roaring as we follow the line onto the lower deck of the ferry.
By the time we’re able to park the car and then go to the upper decks, the subject of love has been dropped.
But I haven’t forgotten.
I am in my studio, busying myself by rearranging things before I can get back to work on my sculpture, when I hear a car honk from outside.
I grin.
My boy is home.
I drop what I’m doing and stride out of the front doors to see Paolo’s mother waving goodbye to me as she drives off and Vanni running straight to me.
“Papà!” he yells, throwing himself around my waist and hugging me.
My chest absolutely aches. It’s been so long since Vanni has hugged me like this, and every passing day with him I’m reminded that he is becoming less of a boy and more of a man, and that I’ll never be able to go back in time and get my boy back. Perhaps in his world, time is something you can manipulate and control, but in this world, when you have a child, it moves entirely too fast.
“Hey, Vanni,” I say to him, careful not to dote on him too much. I don’t want his own affection to embarrass him. “It’s good to see you. Did you miss me?”
He pulls back, looking awkward. “A little.”
“A little is good enough for me. Are you hungry?”
“Yes!” he exclaims, running into the house. “I want to eat everything!”
“Vanni,” I call out after him, looking down at my feet at his bag that he didn’t bother to bring into the house. “Whatever.” I shake my head and pick it up. He’s becoming more of a man, but with none of the responsibility.
I carry his bag inside and head into the kitchen to find him staring with wild eyes into the fridge.
“Go relax. I’ll make you something,” I tell him.
He leans against the counter, grabbing a pear from the fruit bowl. “Where is Grace? She didn’t leave without saying goodbye, did she?”
He looks so worried that I almost laugh.
“No. She’s upstairs having a nap.”
“Whew,” he says, exhaling. Then he manages a small smile. “Grandma and Grandpa talked her ear off, didn’t they?”
“Actually, they weren’t so bad.” Especially after we got back from dinner. Grace wasn’t talking and didn’t come out to have drinks either. My parents could tell that something was wrong, but for once they didn’t press me about it. This morning though, Grace went out of her way to help my mother with breakfast, so at least she left on a high note.