“German, maybe,” she said to herself.
I kept her hand in mine as we made it to a waiting SUV. The driver opened the door for us and tipped his head to me.
“CapitanoFausti.”
I nodded and set my hand on her back, helping her in, setting the hem of the gown inside before I slid in beside her.
“The accent seems familiar,” she said. “Are we in Germany?”
“Copenhagen.”
“Ah,” she breathed, looking out the window for a second. “What’s special in Denmark?”
“The second surprise is here. It is for pleasure.”
“Pleasure,” she repeated, trying to copy my accent.
The SUV came to a stop outside of the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek. An art museum. It was empty of patrons and museumgoers, since it was closed at this time of night, but I had made plans for this.
The driver opened my door and I stepped out, giving Ava my hand. I held it as we walked up to the steps, and the museum curator smiled at me.
“Come in,” he said with a heavy Danish accent. “Come in.”
He stopped at the entrance, saying how excited he was to receive my call, and how pleased he was to do this for us. Then he motioned to the museum, which was quieter than the statues, and told us to enjoy our night.
The light taps of Ava’s heels made a symphony as we walked through the Pantheon-like room. She was quiet, and I was thankful for her silence—for her to give me the chance to gift her something that floated high above words.
She stopped at a few pieces that seemed to move her, but our steps continually moved forward, to where we were supposed to be.
In front of the statue, she stopped and blinked at it for a second before she turned her stunned gaze on me.
“This…” she barely got out.
I lifted her hand and kissed it. “Sì.”
“This is how you sat me on the plinth. How you were in front of me…what you did to me.”
“Adoration,” I read the name from the plaque out loud. Stephan Sinding was the Norwegian-Danish sculptor who had created it. “How this man’s lips adore this woman’s skin. How his chest aches to go beyond flesh, to stain his lips with her blood, to touch his mouth to her bones, to slide into her heart and live there forever. This is love—worth standing for, worth bowing to; worth living for, worth dying for.”
She made a strangled noise in her throat, and her trembling hand squeezed mine, like a woman trying to staunch the rush of blood from her wounded lover.
“Ah.” She cleared her throat. “What’s the story between you and this statue?”
She was buying time, attempting to get her feelings in order so she could speak. Her voice was strangled and tight.
“A member of the Royal Danish family uses my airline from time to time. On a trip, he told me I should spend a few days here. He thought I would enjoy the art in this museum. I decided to visit. This piece spoke to me.This is how love should be. This is how a man is supposed to love a woman.The thoughts, in the voice of my grandfather, took root inside of my head. I vowed to set the woman I would adore on a plinth just as this one, and by recreating this scene, I would set our love in this mold forever. Me at her feet, because I am not good enough for her love, but I will still claim her heart, as though I am stealing her soul through a kiss.” I used my thumb to dry the tear slipping down her cheek.
“How are you even real?” she breathed out before she flung her arms around my neck and sobbed into it.
It reminded me of her cries when she found out the truth about her mamma. I held her so close, she was breathing me in instead of air. Her tears were soaking my shirt, and I absorbed them as if they were lifeblood. She pulled away from me some, and I held her face in my hands, kissing it.
“Wait. You need to know things about me. I’m not who you think I am.” She wasn’t taking a breath. “I couldn’t commit to a rent-controlled apartment, Nazzareno! I couldn’t even commit to a dog who is at the end of her life. All I had was a cat, because she’s a real bitch and would eat me for dinner if she could.
“I’m the girl who was always looking for her next mistake. I slept around just to make them. Just to feel like I was wanted for a night, and then I was gone before dawn. It made me claustrophobic to stay. It made me feel trapped! I couldn’t wait to get out of there, you know? It was like the longer I stayed, the tighter the shackles felt. The world is so big, and there are so many men.” She covered her face with her hands and groaned.
“I’m just like Janis! My sister never said it, but I know she thought it. I mean, I even slept with Tigran, my sister’s uncle-in-law, because he was there! A warm body. And when I went back for my phone, he was gone. His heart was gone.” She cried even harder.
I held her even harder, but it was not only to keep her together.
