‘It’s out there now. Dani knows; we can be honest, open. Spend some real time together.’
‘Having fun?’
‘Yes,’ I say, quietly hopeful, desperate. ‘We work well together, we have fun—more fun than I’ve ever had with any other woman—and I... I’m not ready to pass this up.’
She laughs softly. ‘I am, though, Rafael. I’m ready. I want more, so much more than you can give. I want to find a man who can love me as I love him.’
‘Love...’ Nausea swells and I have to swallow ‘Why does it have to be about love? Why can’t it be about fun? About great sex?’
‘Sex isn’t the be all and end all.’
‘Okay, a relationship, then. We can be exclusive, a couple, until...’
‘Until what?’
I can’t put words to it.
‘Until this chemistry fizzles out, right?’
‘Yes.’ It’s awkward. A strange confirmation when it’s something I can never imagine happening. But it will do. It must do. ‘I don’t know. I just know I’m not ready to end this now.’
‘And, like I said, I am ready.’ There’s a strength to her now, a resolve that scares me. ‘The longer this goes on for, the closer I come to...the closer I come to falling head over heels for you, Rafael. And I know you never promised me anything, that it was just a bit of fun, but I’m afraid my heart didn’t get the memo.’
She’s already walking to do the door.
‘Faye!’
She turns to look at me, eyebrows raised. ‘What? Are you going to tell me that you’re falling for me too? Are you going to tell me that Dani’s wrong about you? That you were wrong and that you do want more?’
Silence. Save for the rush of blood whirring in my ears, my pulse surging with my rising panic, my legs weighed down like lead.
‘Goodbye, Rafael.’ Her voice is so quiet. ‘Thank you for the heavenly week. No regrets, si?’
And then she’s gone and I’m alone, more alone than I’ve ever felt before.
I stare at the open doorway, hear her footsteps becoming ever more distant, and I know I can’t run after her. Because what can I say? I’m a changed man? I do want more? I want it all?
I leave the castle before the temptation to do it wins out. I don’t return until nightfall, until I know she’s long gone, and the risk of feeding her a pack of lies to get what I want is gone.
But I’m in hell. Miserable. Lost. Grieving. Not even the grappa I’ve consumed can numb the pain.
* * *
I’m still like it a week later, when the wedding feels like a distant memory and the castle is empty save for Mamma and Giovanni, who extended their visit at my invitation. It’s a selfish gesture because I hoped they would be a distraction, a way to get over the mess in my head, in my heart, and move on.
It doesn’t succeed. Not them, not work, nothing.
It’s Saturday night, exactly seven days since she left, and I find myself back in the library. I’m lying on the divan, staring at the spot on which she stood, when she told me she couldn’t stay, that she couldn’t stay and not fall for me. Fall in love. After one week.
It’s not possible. She’s not. I’m not.
No.
But the pain, the emptiness deep down inside...
I fall asleep staring, remembering, hurting.
‘Rafael! Rafael!’ I wake with a start, the hand that’s shaking me sending pain ricocheting through my skull—the delayed gift of grappa.