Did her hand tremble in mine or was that my imagination? I finish the story. “I was grounded because of the respect I didn’t show to our pastfamiglia, notquei miei zii idioti.”
“I didn’t understand that last part,” she admits.
“Quei miei zii idiotitranslates to ‘those idiotic uncles of mine.’”
She studies the castle intently. Her expression wavers between concern and disbelief, as if she’s absorbing my ghosts right alongside her own. “Idiotic or not,” she murmurs, half-smiling, “Your ancestors knew how to build something that lasted.”
I edge closer, close enough to see her pulse flutter at the base of her throat. I say softly, “Maybe—at least the really ancient ones.” I pause for her laugh before continuing. “Weren’t so idiotic after all. Takes a certain kind of madness to create something that stands through centuries.”
She glances up at me then, and for a heartbeat it feels like the entire vineyard sucks in all the surrounding air. The weight of my past, our combined past, fades. It’s just me and Maya and the echo of generations who may have had similar conversations in this same spot, albeit without the technology.
But undoubtedly, they stood here and tried to tackle issues of family, loyalty, and love.
When her fingers brush my arm again, my hand naturally follows, covering hers. Electricity arcs between us and I wonder if she feels it as well.
“Maybe,” she whispers in a voice so low, I have to lean down to hear her. “Idiocy runs in the family.”
“‘Lord, what fools these mortals be!’” I murmur back.
“Quoting Shakespeare next to an ancient castle? Next thing you know, you’ll be asking me to hold a football for you and hoping I don’t pull it away.”
“I’d let you do it even if you disappointed me.”
“Why’s that?”
I lean closer until our lips are just a hairbreadth apart. “Because it’s time for me to hold on to the things I find important instead of kicking them away.”
Her eyes dilate at my words. Her lips part, even as her tongue darts out to wet them. But I take a step back.
It’s too soon.
I need her to trust me.
The silence that follows is thick enough to cut, heavy with our mingled breaths. She chokes, the faintest sound—half disappointment, half relief. I want to reach for her again, to erase the distance I just created. But it’s not the right time.
Not yet.
Instead, I shove my hands into my pockets and force a grin. “Come on. I’ll show you the west wall. It has the most remaining structure than any other part of the ruins.”
She studies me for a long beat, then she nods once, slow, deliberate.
As we walk side by side around the castle ruins, I try to rein in my shudders every time her shoulder brushes mine. I know I did the right thing.
Even though right now it feels like it’s slow torture.
15
PLAY-ACTION PASS: FAKE HANDOFF TO FOOL THE DEFENSE, THEN THE QB THROWS.
Did he not feel the same pull between us that I did?
Is that why he didn’t kiss me? Immediately I wonder, would I have kissed him back?
Those questions have been rattling around my head since Troy stepped back from our moment a few hours ago. He continued to give me a tour of the castle, even unlocking the modern-day security gates to allow me to get up close.He warned me, “Be careful. The gates are in place to protect the castle from visitors doing something rash. Also, it protects visitors from tripping and falling over something unexpected.”
Talk about there not being a more perfect explanation of my confused emotions, I think. Instead of replying, I just lifted my camera and took shot after shot of the castle’s battlement and curtain wall. Hoping my own stronghold wouldn’t crumble, I absorb strength from the stones once my hand touches the cool wall.
I’m jostled out of my reverie when Troy’s voice asks, “Are you ready or would you like some more time?”
