Steam, leather, cedarwood. Home.
Anxious to see Gio, I head straight for the back and find him sitting at his sewing machine. Glasses on, sleeves rolled up to his elbows—he’s definitely in tailor mode. But there’s an off-putting energy about him, and upon closer inspection, I notice that he’s glaring at the fabric like it personally betrayed him. Like the high-end silk attended a family dinner and insulted his mother’s cooking.
“Gio, I?—”
“If you’re here to break us up, it’s going to be anofrom me.” He doesn’t even look up to greet me. “Absolutely not. I don’t know what you’re thinking in that very beautiful but severely misguided head of yours. But I regret to inform you that we’re not breaking up. It’s probably the New York air pollution that has you feeling this way,” he mutters grumpily.
My mouth hangs open in shock, and after a few breaths of silence, Gio stops sewing and starts nodding excessively, likehe’s cracked the code to myuncalled-forbehavior. When I don’t respond, he finally faces me with a frown.
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you done, because?—”
“Well, I don’t knowwhatit is, but there’s no way you’d have this God-awful ‘space’ idea in Italy,” Gio mumbles, followed by a string of exasperated Italian I don’t understand. “Listen. Unfortunately, you’re stuck with me. I’ve gotten a little too used to loving you, and I’m not going back.”
He shoots up from his chair and plants his feet, his volume increasing with the movement. “In fact, I’ve become accustomed to certain things! Meaningful sex, for one! My pillow smelling like you! Being nice to you at work! It wasexhaustingacting indifferent toward you, and I’mnotdoing it again! I’m too old for it! The stress’ll probably give me a stroke! Do youwantme to have a stroke,Tèssa?”
He starts aggressively pacing, muttering angrily in Italian, before whipping his head once again in my direction.
“AND ANOTHER THING! You’re not dating fuckingLuca.” He gestures wildly, wiggling his finger in a ‘nuh-uh’ motion that looks comical coming from a grown man. “No matterwhatMamma tells you. He made his last girlfriend compete in a triathlon. Youhatebiking! Is that what you want, Cara? Tobikethe rest of your life?”
Gio puts his hands on his hips, out of breath from all the gesturing and yelling.
I roll my eyes. “I’d never date Luca. I saw him drink a glass of wine at your mom’s house, and he held it with two hands like a chalice.”
He looks vindicated. “Ha! See? A blasphemous wine-glass holder, bike-riding psychopath!”
I set my bag on the floor and walk towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Gio. Can I talk now?”
“Not if you’re ending things. You can just keep that pretty little mouth shut.”
I smile. “I’m not breaking up with you.”
“You asked for space.”
“Yeah, I needed, like, adayof space. I know it might be a foreign concept for Mr. I-Kiss-Strangers-On-The-Lips, but I needed a minute to figure out my next move.” I give his arm a squeeze. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I asked for it. I missed you yesterday.”
He narrows his eyes in suspicion. “You’re not ending things?”
I bring my hand to his cheek, and he immediately leans his face into my palm. “I regret to inform you that you’re stuck with me. I’ve gotten a little too used to loving you, too.”
I watch the tension leave Gio’s body slowly as he releases a heavy sigh. “Can I hold you? I need you in my arms. Sleeping alone last night was awful.”
“It really was. I missed your voice.”
He wraps me in a hug and kisses my hair. “I missed everything about you. Ti amo, Cara.”
I squeeze him back, at peace once again in his arms. “I love you, Gio.”
All of my emotions seem to fall into place with the exchange of words we didn’t get to say yesterday.
When we lean back, he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry for what happened with your father. I didn’t know?—”
I shake my head. “I know you didn’t. You couldn’t have known. I didn’t share everything with you.”
Gio places a finger underneath my chin. “I’m going to support you with whatever you decide. Anything you need, and?—”
“I blocked him.”
He pauses, a completely neutral look on his face. “How do you feel about that?”
