My disappearing act has blunted his eyes’ perennial sparkle. “Why?”
I watch an enormous yellow serpent undulate beneath the tightly packed boats, scaring away a raft of ducks that quack and honk as they spring off the blue-black sea. “Dante came to see me earlier.” I glide my lower lip between my teeth. “He kissed me and then he asked me out.”
I’m done with secrets. Antoni may not be the love of my life, but perhaps Dante won’t be either.
Prophecy, smophecy.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a dark emotion rippling across Antoni’s face. “He didn’t even invite you to the revel.”
I finally look his way. “He did, but my grandmother hid the ribbon so I wouldn’t attend.” I’m still not certain whether it was her, but since I cannot tell Antoni about Bronwen, I perpetuate my first theory. “I told him yes.”
Antoni’s pupils shrink to dots. “Did you also tell him about us?”
“I didn’t. He didn’t ask.”
“And if he had?”
“I would’ve told him. I have nothing to be ashamed of. Especially considering . . . considering . . .” My voice turns to a pained wheeze.
“All we did was kiss?”
“No. I mean, yes. But that’s not where my mind went.”
Antoni glides his arm around my waist and tucks me against his side. I rest my cheek on his shoulder that feels so warm and solid, so comforting and safe.
“Considering he slept with Beryl?” His whisper is as soft as the wind that buffets the rolled sails of the rocking boats.
I pick my head off his shoulder. “You heard?”
“Not many secrets stay secret atBottom of the Jug.”
“Gods, Antoni, I’m so fucking naïve,” I croak.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear.” He runs the callused pad of his thumb down my bare arm to the bend at my elbow, then back up. “You’re not naïve, Fallon. You’re young and idealistic.”
Resolve solidifies within me. I wanted to move out of my house to prove to Nonna I was a grown woman, but a grown woman is worldly. She has experience. What do I have besides sappy dreams and unrealistic expectations? “Rid me of it.”
He stops stroking my arm. “Excuse me?”
“Rid me of my naivety.” At his frown, I add, “Sleep with me, Antoni. Show me what I’ve been missing out on. Teach me how not to expect love from sex.”
His hand drops away from my arm as his head rears back, freeing honeyed-brown tendrils from his manbun and sending them frolicking around his square jaw. “I’m not some heartless gigolo, Fallon. I have feelings.”
“That’s not what I meant. All I meant was that you’ve done it a million times, and you’ve never gotten attached.”
“Maybe I have.”
“Have you?”
His mouth thins, giving me the answer he seems reticent to admit. Suddenly, he springs to his feet, apparently done with this conversation.
Done with me.
It stings, even though I deserve it.
His jaw flexes, his knuckles, too. “You want to know how it feels to fuck, then let’s fuck.”
Seventeen
