He arches a brow at me, and I can tell he’s not going to answer that.
“I understand April fifteenth now, but what about Eros?”
He buries his face in my neck and breathes me in, murmuring the words against me. “He loved Psyche from the shadows.”
I blink away the sting in my eyes as I’m overcome by the depth of my love for this man. I’m too choked up to say it, but he knows.
He always knows.
He holds me through the overwhelm, pressing soft kisses along my neck until I come back to myself.
We stay like that for a while, and admittedly, I could soak up his warmth all day. But I want to finish looking at his art.
I return my attention to the sketchbook, watching my life unfold in pictures. Memories unfurl, and they don’t feel so bittersweet anymore.
When I reach the day he won me that raggedy old teddy bear, I know I’m approaching the time that everything changed. As I trace over the lines, I’m in awe of how vividly he captured it, and how clearly he could tell I was in love with him even then.
After that, there’s a time jump, and I swallow as I realize there are four whole years missing. The drawings resume after he came back, but there’s a noticeable difference in perspective between the artist and the subject.
He captured me in various settings over the years—family dinners, lunches with the girls, reading, or sometimes just sitting alone with my thoughts. But the light seems to have disappeared from my eyes, and every smile looks forced.
It wasn’t just his assessment. My life had never felt as grim as it was without him in it. I thought I did a decent job of hiding it, but Romeo saw through my mask. He saw everything.
It explains why, when I turn the page, I find a drawing of the day I came to the island to meet Beppe. There’s nothing but pure happiness on my face as I cradle him in my arms, falling in love with him at first sight.
Romeo did that for me.
I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a shuddering breath. I don’t want to cry, but he really hit me in the solar plexus with that one.
“Hey.” He sets the book aside, then shifts me around so I’m straddling him, and we’re face to face.
“I’m okay.” I laugh because I’m embarrassed I keep getting emotional.
I can’t stop thinking about all the things he’s done for me that I didn’t realize, and I’m sure I’ve only scratched the surface. But as I’m contemplating it, there’s one thing that’s always bothered me. The sudden appearance of a college fund from my deceased grandfather never felt quite right. My mother didn’t even know that account existed, and even she said it was strange, considering I barely knew the man.
There are some secrets I can let Romeo keep, like the fact that Beppe was his idea. But this isn’t one of them.
“Did you pay for my college?”
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. I can see it in his eyes.
“Why?” I rasp.
He hesitates for a moment before he replies.
“Because it was your dream.”
This time, there’s no stopping the tears. They spill freely as I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him tight. My heart feels like it’s about to burst, and I don’t know how to thank him for everything he’s done. So I just blurt out the only thing that makes sense.
“I love you.”
“I know, baby.” He rubs my back, trying to ground me.
“No, you don’t know,” I argue. “This feeling inside me…I can’t even put it into words.”
“Trust me.” He grabs my face and tips my gaze to his. “I know.”
The agony in his voice feels like a reflection of my own, and all I can do is nod.
