A smile of triumph lit his face. “Wrong.”
“Shit. So when?”
He slid out of me and lay beside me, his arm slippery on my waist. “I started feeling things for you that summer. When I told you I’d move to England, I wasn’t going to think about my career. I’d already decided to stop making those movies when you said you hated them.” He swallowed. “I was going there to think about us. My feelings for you.”
“How?”
“I wanted to be close to you. I wanted to know if it was real.”
I blinked, my heart thrumming. “What changed your mind?”
“I didn’t need proof anymore.” His eyes glistened at me. “The night you told me you got accepted and were actually going, I asked myself one question. If you left and I stayed, how would that feel?” He pursed his lips. “The answer was a squeeze around my heart that I’d never felt before, not even when Patricia cheated on me. That was when I knew.”
I scowled. “Why the fuck didn’t you come with me?”
“You were fucking seventeen.”
“Don’t give me that shit. I was almost eighteen.”
“Even so, what was I supposed to do? Tell you that I loved you? Creep you out? You called me bro. I was supposed to be…safe.”
I heaved a long sigh. “C’mon, Mike.”
“You’d have thought it was only sexual.” His hands went up. “I swear it wasn’t. If I had as much of a flicker of thought back then, I banished it immediately.” Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you were a kid, starting out your life. You didn’t know what you wanted.”
I bit my lip so hard it hurt. “You’reslowtoo, you know?” My hands groped for my clothes in the dark. “The AA wasn’t the only college I got in. I got in Roma Tre, too. Did you really think I’d prefer England to Italy?”
“What?”
“You heard me, dickhead.” I got off the bed and jumped into my jeans. “I chose England for you.”
He quirked a brow. “You had feelings for me back then?”
“Yes, Mike. I fucking loved you then. Even before that. God, I’ve been in love with you since I was ten.” I shoved my arms in the sleeves of my shirt and buttoned it down. “Do you realize that our lives could have been so much better if we just…?”
I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. “You wouldn’t have made all those stupid movies or become that guy who stuck it in anything that moved.” I grabbed my jacket and slung it over my shoulders. “And I wouldn’t have suffered for years stumbling to find something that I cared about, enduring shit from everybody, hurting others in the way.” Tears rolled down my face, and I wiped them with angry hands.
He crawled toward me, pulling me to his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so…so sorry. I regret every moment that I haven’t spent with you.” His sigh fell hot on my neck. “But I didn’t know.” His voice quivered. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“I know.”
He held my head, bringing my eyes to his. “Forgive me, amore. I was so stupid.”
“We both were.” I laughed through the tears. “But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re together now.”
“Now and forever.” He gave me a kiss. “And I won’t let anything or anyone change that.”
Scene58
Maggie
9 A.M. TEN DAYS AFTER THE TRIBECA PREMIERE
I arrived on set before anyone else, not cranky or moody or hating life. Even though the redeye from NY to L.A. was terrible, and I hadn’t slept a wink last night, I had a silly smile on my face I couldn’t wipe off, a screenshot of the award winners’ names on the festival website printed in my head.
BEST NEW NARRATIVE DIRECTOR COMPETITION:
Best New Narrative Director — Maggie Dawson, director ofEverything Under the Sun(U.S.).
