"What about the baby? Our child will call another man father."
The thought breaks me as I can see it breaks him. "I'll find a way to keep the baby safe from him. I promise."
When he turns back, his eyes glisten. "I can't just walk away from you. From us."
"You have to." I step close again, placing his hand over my stomach once more. "For us."
He pulls me against him then, crushing me to his chest, and his body shudders in agony. We stand like this for long minutes.
"I'll go," he finally whispers against my hair. "But Valentina, this isn't over. I won't give up finding a way back to you both. I swear it."
I nod against his chest even as I want to tell him to forget us.
As long as he goes now, that’s what’s important.
Maybe I can get Luca to keep him too busy to think about all that he’s lost.
It’s stupid.
No amount of busy will make me forget Cristian.
His lips find mine, and the world falls away.
This isn't like our other kisses, flirty, passionate, forbidden, and sometimes filled with hope.
This is a goodbye mixed with desperation and grief. We're both shattering.
"I can't do this," I whisper against his mouth. "I can't say goodbye to you."
His answer is to kiss me harder, deeper, his hands cradling my face with a tenderness that makes my heart splinter further.
I press myself against him, memorizing the solid warmth of his body, the way we fit together.
Something shifts between us, the grief transforming into a different kind of urgency.
I don't want our last memory to be of tears. I want to remember joy, pleasure, connection.
I want proof that for a brief, shining moment, we truly belonged to each other.
"Cristian," I murmur, my hands sliding beneath his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin. "I need you. One more time."
His breath catches, and he pulls back just enough to search my eyes.
Whatever he sees there must answer whatever he’s looking for.
He sears his lips to mine, and I pour everything I have into the kiss.
We shouldn’t do this.
Alessandro certainly didn’t give his okay for me to make love to Cristian, but to hell with him.
Cristian lifts me onto the small table against the wall. Our movements are frantic because we only have moments to fill a lifetime.
His hands slide up my thighs, pushing my dress higher, and I work at his belt with shaking fingers.
There's an urgency driving us both.
Not just the time limit but something deeper.
