Page 87 of The English Bookstore in Bologna

He pressed a finger to her lips. “Say no more. I’m not going anywhere. Take your time.”

His words made her want him more. “You’ve been warned, Corrado. I’m a wreck right now. And you’re still here. Why?”

He reached for her shirt, pulling at the fabric. “You’re the one who left.”

She thought of Sandy, of how the bitch had slapped her father. She didn’t want to be like her, mean and alone. And she didn’t want to chase becoming Madmiral Megawatt, either, because that was the problem. The entire reason she’d moved to Italy was to escape all things Megawatt, but let’s face it, she was treating slowing down and embracing la dolce vita with the same aggressive intensity as everything else in her life the last decade.

Why not just be human for a moment?

“Okay,” she said, deciding she wanted to be a candle in a sea of light bulbs, like him.

“Okay, what?”

“Take me . . . take me home.”

In the morning, they lay naked in the bed. Bianca was on her back, the sheets pulled up above her breasts. He was on his side, an elbow propping up his head.

They’d been chatting, but her focus was on the aftermath of this honeymoon they were on. Sure, the chase was fun. The reunion. She’d never had sex like that in her life. He’d learned some things in Paris. Her legs still quivered from last night and this morning.

But he didn’t know the real her. How could he when she didn’t even know the real Bianca? Who was she if not a writer and a sought-after therapist? She’d admitted her issues to herself, but she wasn’t ready to admit them to others—especially this man lying beside her. He’d made it beyond obvious in so many ways that he wanted more. That he wanted a relationship. But she still wasn’t ready. It could be years before she totally sorted herself out and had time to love someone else.

Corrado started to pull back the sheets to expose a nipple, but she batted him away.

The pitch of his voice rose as he pleaded. “What? Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of being with you again, touching you, staring into these eyes that have haunted me over the years. I’ve missed you so much.” He kissed her cheek and whispered, “You don’t know how amazing you are, do you?”

“Stop it.”

“Seriously. Why are you hiding from me?” He giggled to himself. “Where are you, Bianca?” He touched her thigh under the sheet, and it made her shiver. “You are looking for you; I’m looking for you. The whole world is looking for you.”

“I’m right here.”

“Are you?”

He wouldn’t stop looking at her.

“What?”

“Why are you holding back? You ravaged me like a wild animal and now you’re hiding again. What’s happening?”

She wanted to tell him that it was all downhill from here, but wouldn’t dare, so she pulled the sheets up even higher instead and waited for a chance to escape.

Chapter 21

A Shadow on the Pavement

Sandy had never fought in a war, but when the images came to her, they seemed as real as they could get. She’d been up all night, hearing explosions, smelling burning flesh, and seeing young men and women maimed in a far-off land, soldiers fighting for causes that even they couldn’t articulate. When she closed her eyes, mortar fire shook her, bullets whizzed by, the screams of the injured echoed.

She reached for Nicolo and dragged him toward her, pulling him in and squeezing him. “You’re all I have,” she said to him. “My Nicolo.”

The images and sounds of war continued to play in her head as she showered and made breakfast. There was nothing more agonizing than the fear of losing a child when you couldn’t keep tabs on them, when they were out there fighting wars, surrounded by a thousand ways to die. From the moment Jack had shipped out to Parris Island for recruit training, she’d been a nervous wreck.

But how could she have protested? The marines were his everything.

She drank her coffee by the window, looking out at a clear sky that didn’t deserve to be so blue. “What a life I’ve lived, Nicolo,” she said to her stray as he curled up at her feet. “So much pain.”

She thought back to how things had been when she’d first moved here, when she hadn’t known anyone. A fresh start after a life scarred by two wretched husbands. The promise of Jack one day joining her.

She sighed, remembering how it had always been Sandy and Jack against the world after his dad had been thrown in jail. There was something to be said for being a single mom. The bond was even stronger, because it’s two of you, not three. They’d become fighters together, warriors trying to find a way through the world, Sandy parenting alone, Jack hitting puberty without a father to teach him how to shave.