Complete and utter silence.
Until that voice came between us.
If I should stay…
Rosaria Caffi was singing the song she left behind for her husband in Italian this time.
I turned to see his face. His eyes were staring into the distance, like he was staring into the past, and were as honest as he vowed he was, as I was being with myself. I had no clue what he was feeling. It was like he had taken a step behind a block of ice, and even a fire ball couldn’t thaw it. I had no clue where he’d gone, but he’d left, escaping through that deep void in his eyes.
I went to step around him, thinking he wouldn’t even notice if I was gone, but he grabbed my arm so fast I gasped.He wasn’t hurting me, but I felt the power in his hand down to the marrow of my bone. This man could snap me in two if he wanted to.My eyes rose to meet his, and his were boring into mine. I couldn’t hold his stare and turned my eyes to the floor, my cheeks heating.
“I didn’t mean it,” I whispered. “The dream…it sent me running. She seemed to be running, too, but in the opposite direction, and we crashed into each other.”
“You are still here.” His tone matched mine, like we were already in sync.
“Apparently.” I lifted my arm, proving that he was holding a burning woman in his grip, and she wasn’t even getting through to him. “I should go.” I wiggled free from his hold, determined to find my way out of thecastello.
As I turned one corner, Rocco on my heels, I crashed into a chest. It wasn’t the man who righted me but Rocco who pulled me back. Keeping his grip on my shoulders firm, he refused to allow me to move closer to the man.
A man I recognized right away.
You have killed the wicked witch of Italy, ah? I will alert the village.
His eyes were bright in the sunshine filtering in through the many windows, and the scar was right where I remembered it. His hair was slicked back into a bun at the nape of his neck. Our eyes met for a brief second in remembrance of the moment, then Rocco snapped at him in Italian to go a different way to wherever he was going.
The man nodded, not a second glance at us.
As soon as he disappeared, I found my way back outside through the kitchen, the feel of his palms still lingering on my shoulders, the power in them radiating to my bones, and grabbed mymantellobefore I thanked the table for a beautiful day. Some of the women—the ones that I’d been spending time with, along with Margherita—stood after the men did and hugged me. Luca took my hand in his and kissed it, thanking me for gracing his table with my presence. He would see me again soon.
Rocco led me to a parked car and opened the door, but I shook my head.
“I’d prefer to walk,” I said. I slipped off my heels and started walking away from him. He followed me. Followed me all the way to my apartment, as if the walk was nothing to him, and whenever he returned to hiscastello, he’d run up the stairs to get some cardio in.
Stopping at my door, I turned to him. A lump had formed in my throat. I held the pendant tight in my grip. “I’m really sorry,” Iwhispered. I hated that the fear in my dream had caused him and his family pain.
He said nothing, and I turned and ran up the stairs, my heels dangling in my hand. I opened the door so fast,Pisolino screeched at me. With tears blurring my vision, I flung my suitcase on the bed, madly removing my things from my room and stuffing them inside. I went to the bedside table and snatched the picture of Nonna and me. Our last Christmas together. A decorated tree shimmered behind us. She was in her favorite chair, and I was pretending to sit on her lap, her arms around me. We were both laughing.
All the steam in me left my mouth in awhoosh.I pushed the suitcase to the floor, where it landed with a thud. I leaned back and brought the picture to my heart, like she would speak to it and tell me what to do. Slow drips of tears ran from the corners of my eyes, and I closed them, allowing the fear and uncertainty to roll through me.
Nonna always said that was the best course when tackling fear—feel it, don’t run from it. She said fear was a fierce hunter, and sometimes the panic was warranted, and sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes what looked like a gun was as dangerous as a paper towel cylinder.
I’d just never felt a fear as consuming as this one. I was terrified to my bones of not seeing Rocco Fausti again.
Sighing, I sat up, not even bothering to wipe the tears from my cheeks. They would dry soon enough. I undressed, changing into a Henley onesie. I undid the bow from my hair and then pulled it up into a messy bun. I snatched my phone, opened the music app, and let the next song play. “Rush Rush.”
Heading into the kitchen, I checked Pisolino’s water and fed him a little extra for dinner.
All normal, but I was just going through the motions.
I started more focaccia, but there was an urgency I had never felt before inside of my heart that seemed to be directing my feet.With my hands full of dough, I ran to the balcony and looked outside, not able to help myself.
Our eyes met.
I sucked in a breath.
Rocco was waiting outside of my apartment, staring up at me. How many nights had he done that, and I hadn’t noticed? That I had blamed the excitement of the story for my overreacting heart?
My feet couldn’t be stopped when my heart ordered them down the stairs and into his arms. I rushed into them like a monster was on my heels and about to devour my time with him. He absorbed the blow, pulling my body into his like he could fuse us into one. I kept my sticky hands away from his head, but he didn’t care. He was holding me so tightly, he was trembling.
