One Hot Italian Summer

by Karina Halle

  “For you,” he says, handing me the vase as he walks in the room. Then he shakes the bottle of Prosecco. “For us.”

  I sniff the roses, their scent mild. “Where did you get this?”

  He shrugs. “I stole it from the display down the hall.”

  I laugh. “Well, they’re very pretty. Not as pretty as yours, of course.”

  “Of course,” he says, as he handles the Prosecco, his forearms popping as he untwists the wire around the cork. He glances up at me. “How are you feeling?”

  I shrug one shoulder. “About as well as I can be.” I go and sit on the edge of the bed, watching him open the bottle with a pop. “Alternating between relief and worry.”

  “This will help with the worry,” he says, walking over to the bar area and pouring us two glasses.

  He comes back over and hands one to me. He raises his glass and I do the same.

  “Here is to coming clean,” he says, staring down at me. “To no more hiding. We can finally be us.”

  I raise the glass and have a large gulp, the bubbles tickling my nose.

  To love.

  “So,” I begin as he sits down on the bed next to me, our legs dangling off. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  He nods as he links his foot around mine. “She is pissed.”

  I suck in my breath.

  “And you knew that she would be, and I suppose I should have taken your fears more seriously,” he adds.

  I gulp. “Fuck.”

  “Yes. It’s her pride that’s hurt. I asked her if she still had feelings for me...”

  Oh god.

  I sit up straighter. “And?”

  “She laughed. It was very bitter. I know she doesn’t, but I had to be sure because I couldn’t understand her reaction to us. But yes, it is her pride, which is more precious to her than I could have imagined. Something about you being younger than me, than her, and she is older, and you are a new client, and it was something a woman does not do to another woman. I don’t know, here in Italy it is no big deal. But I guess it is over there. Once you are divorced, you are not allowed to find love again? I don’t know.”

  Guilt creates knots in my stomach and I feel like keeling over.

  “And so on and so on.” He sighs, has another sip. “I told her that this has nothing to do with you, that if she has problems to take it up with me. Oh, and she did that too. I got an earful, that I am a bastard and whatever. In the end, I told her that no matter what happens, I plan on being with you forever, so whether she decides to drop you as a client or not, she will always have to deal with you.”

  I blink. I’m stuck on what he just said.

  Not about her dropping me as a client.

  He plans on being with me forever.

  “Oh no,” he says, frowning as he searches my face. “I said the wrong thing.”

  I shake my head, trying to deal with that chaotic mess of feelings inside me. “You didn’t,” I whisper.

  “I scared you. I said too much.”

  His expression is crumbling, so I quickly grab his hand and squeeze it. “No. You didn’t scare me at all. I…that’s what I want.”

  He stares at me in disbelief. “You do?”

  “Yes. I don’t want you for now. Or a few months from now. Or a year from now. I want you forever.”

  Claudio blinks, completely taken aback.

  I put my hand on his cheek, his stubble rough against my warm palm. “Claudio. I felt myself falling and I didn’t stop myself this time. I let it happen. I let myself fall in love with you.” Hot tears prick my eyes. “I love you. I’m in love with you and it’s scary, and it’s chaotic, and it’s messy, and I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again but…I love you. In this universe, and in the next one, and the next one.”

  A tear falls down Claudio’s cheek and the next thing I know, he’s pressing my face between his hands and kissing me. So hard, so passionate, rolling with such feeling that I feel my glass fall to the floor and his does the same, Prosecco spilling everywhere.

  But I don’t care.

  I am in love.

  And as a result, my brain has deserted me.

  We roll back onto the bed and he crawls over me, and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing his large, tanned, muscular frame above my body.

  My hands skim down the muscles of his back, pulling at his shirt.

  His hands slide up my legs, bunching up my dress, pushing aside my underwear until he finds me soaked and bare and ready for him.

  We don’t have words tonight because all the words have been said for now.

  All we have are our hearts and we’re letting those lead the way, and make the choices, the way it always should be.

  He continues to kiss me, soft lips and slick tongue that gradually turns raw and wild, and it all means so much more now. Now that I know what I’m feeling, now that I know I love him, it takes this meeting of our bodies to another plane of existence, to another level. I don’t want to just give him my body, I want to give him my heart and soul and every other piece of me.

  And as he undoes his pants and pushes his cock inside of me, I know he’s taking those pieces of me, savoring them, making them meld with everything he has to give.

  Give and take.

  He rocks into my hips, I buck up against him.

  He slowly pulls himself out, I squeeze him as he goes.

  His lips suck down my neck, my nails scratch at his back.

  We fuck like this, soft and slow and sweet, both of us brimming with too many feelings, occasionally looking at each other in awe, like neither of us knew it could be this good.

  But it is.

  We come together, my orgasm crashing down on me like a tidal wave, spinning me in all directions. He cries out my name, sharp and loud in the room, as he shudders out his breath, his hips pressing hard against mine.

  All the emotions of the day suddenly come flooding back at full strength, like I had barely been keeping the water back, and now the dam has caved in.

  Shit.

  I’m crying.

  “Musa?” he whispers to me, still inside me. I never want him to leave.

  He places his thumbs below my eyes and wipes away the tears.

  “I love you,” I cry out, feeling stupid.

  His eyes glow with adoration as he gazes down at me. “Yes, I know. But please, don’t stop saying it.”

  I pinch my eyes shut. The relief over telling Vanni, the fear that I’ll lose Jana as an agent, that my book might be in jeopardy, all these feelings are swirling around, competing against each other for my attention.

  But the fact that I love him, and that I have his love, is the biggest one of all.

  And my heart has never felt so full.

  No matter what happens, I’m going to be okay.

  We’re going to be okay.

  After all, I know the ending.

  Twenty-Three

  Claudio

  It feels good to be in my own bed.

  It feels even better to have Grace beside me.

  No more sneaking around. Just the pure truth. Just us.

  “Good morning,” I whisper to her. She’s curled on her side, head on the pillow, hair spilling around her. Her eyes slowly blink open and I’m caught in how startlingly blue they can seem first thing in the morning. I love this version of Grace, when her mind is quiet and she’s in the moment. She looks at me and I know that I’m all she sees.

  “Good morning,” she says quietly. Her expression is so soft and sweet.

  I’m falling more in love with her all the time.

  “How did you sleep? You seemed like you were out right through the night.”

  She wets her lips. “I think so? I was so tired when we got home I just passed out the moment my head hit the pillow.”

  It’s true. Once we arrived back to Villa Rosa from Florence it was fairly late, and we were all exhausted since we tried to cram so much in that last day. Even Vanni fell asleep in the car on th
e short drive home.

  But with Vanni knowing about us, and giving us his approval, I knew that if Grace wanted to sleep in my bed, that we wouldn’t have to hide it. I still want to keep things light in front of Vanni, for obvious reasons, and I’m a bit wary of even kissing her in front of him, but he didn’t seem to notice she went to sleep in my room.

  In our room.

  Because that’s what this is now.

  “Allora,” I say slowly, not wanting to scare her off. She might love me, but what I’m about to say to her could still come on too strongly for her. “When are you going to move in with me?”

  She stills, staring up at me. “Move in here?”

  “Yes. We talked about this before. You suggested I come up to Edinburgh…”

  “Oh, I know. I know. And that’s not an option. I just…”

  “I’m coming on too strongly?”

  She grins. “You are coming on just strong enough. You wouldn’t be Claudio otherwise. You wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with.”

  Fuck.

  I can’t get enough of those words. I’m aware that it’s been only a couple of days since she first told me she loved me, but I have been reveling in them ever since.

  She loves me.

  My heart couldn’t be more full. I have a son that loves me, and respects that Grace and I want to be together, and I have the love of an amazingly talented, inspiring, complicated woman who keeps me on my toes. I’m excited to go back to the marble statue today, and I know it’s going to be one of my best pieces, all because of her.

  I have everything I want.

  Except I want her to move in with me.

  And then marry me.

  And then it will be complete.

  “Besides,” she goes on, “you told me the other day that you want me forever and I told you the same. Forever means I’m going to be moving in here. I just have to figure out the process.” She pauses and sits up. “It definitely means I need to finish my book first before I get any more distracted.”

  Then she goes stiff.

  I sit up beside her and put my hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  She nods, her face pale. “Aye. I just realized…what’s the point of finishing the book when I don’t even know if I have an agent?”

  Right.

  After Jana found out about us, and I ended up arguing with her in the streets of Florence, it was unclear what Jana’s plans were. She was pissed, that much was true, though she never outright told me that she didn’t want to represent Grace anymore. Perhaps she knew if she did, then I’d really let my temper fly. We’ve had so many fights in the past that it gets pretty exhausting, and I don’t think either of us wanted to deal with that.

  All Jana wanted to do was see her son for the rest of that night, and then the next morning she flew back to London.

  I haven’t contacted her yet, knowing she needed a few days of space to clear her head and calm down. I know her pride was damaged, and the bear was poked, but I figure she’ll eventually come to her senses.

  At any rate, it’s not Grace’s job to contact her. She did nothing wrong.

  “I’m going to call her today,” I tell Grace.

  “Oh no, don’t,” she cries out, her forehead creasing. “Please don’t.”

  “Why not? She is my ex-wife. We had a fight and I need to make sure she’s not punishing you for no reason.”

  “It’s not for no reason…”

  “Tell me, Grace, if you were in her shoes, how would you react?”

  “I…” she rubs her lips together, thinking. “I would be taken aback. No doubt. But in the end, I think I would want you to be happy.”

  “Yes. That is the correct way to act. It doesn’t matter anyway, I need to talk to her, because you’re mine and you’re going to move in with us here, and you’ll continue to be a part of my life, and therefore you’ll be a part of hers. It’s in her best interest to behave. And remember, you’re the talented one here. She represents you because you are good. If she drops you, you will find another agent, and things don’t look so well for her, do they?”

  She nods, looking down at her hands.

  “What I am saying,” I tell her, brushing her hair behind her shoulder, “is that you need to go and finish the book. That’s all. It’s just you and the book. I’ll handle Jana, okay? Then when all is said and done, then we’ll get you moved out of your flat in Edinburgh and everything else that follows. But for now…your job is to write. Capisci?”

  “Okay,” she says after a moment. Then she throws her shoulders back. “I’m going to write.”

  She hops out of bed, spry as anything.

  “Where are you going?” I ask her. “It’s early.”

  “I’m going to the loo,” she says, heading to the toilet. “Then I’m going to my office.”

  “I’m going back to sleep,” I tell her, flopping back down on the bed.

  “No you’re not!” she calls out. “You know I can’t work without the espresso.”

  Damn. She’ll never figure out that machine.

  I groan loud enough so that she hears it, and then get out of bed to make her coffee.

  The day goes slowly.

  Grace spends all her time in her office, riding a massive wave of inspiration. I see her occasionally when she comes back into the house for snacks or refreshments, but I give her space. She even writes through lunch, which blows Vanni’s mind. “How could anyone pass up a meal?” he says.

  I end up working on the statue, which probably seems like tedious work to anyone else, but to me it’s a whole new world. I get so involved in what I am doing, chipping away at the marble to make it become something beautiful and real, that I also would work right through lunch.

  Of course Vanni would never let that happen.

  He’s been in good spirits himself. I’ve asked him a few times, privately, if he really is okay with Grace and me being together. He said that he’s slowly come around to the idea, as long as we promise never to break up. He doesn’t want to get attached to Grace and then have her leave.

  I promised him that would never happen. That we love each other too much, and that the three of us are on this ride together.

  He seemed satisfied with that answer. He just wants to feel included, and I’ll do anything to take all his fears away. At least I can trust my son to be honest with me, even when he does talk about my parenting in another dimension.

  The last piece of the puzzle is Jana.

  Right before I’m about to start dinner, I take a couple of shots of whisky, and then I’m in my study for privacy, ringing her up.

  She doesn’t answer right away. I have a feeling that my face and number showing up on her screen might make her pause.

  But she does, right before it goes to voicemail.

  “Claudio,” she says stiffly.

  “Jana,” I say, trying to sound as warm as possible to counter that.

  “Is everything okay? Is Vanni all right?”

  “He is fine.”

  You know why I’m calling.

  “Oh, good. It was so nice to see him.”

  She doesn’t sound awkward at all.

  “Yes. He misses you a lot,” I tell her.

  “I know.”

  “You need to come by more often. I mean that.”

  “I know.” Pause. “Though I’m sure I won’t matter much soon.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You. And Grace.”

  “What about us?”

  She lets out a dry laugh. “Oh. You don’t see how it is, do you? She’s the new me, Claudio. She’s the replacement.”

  “You never said that about any of my other ex-girlfriends,” I point out. “You never said that about Marika.”

  “Because you didn’t love Marika. Certainly not the way that you love Grace. Oh, I know that Vanni spilled the bloody beans, but it was quite obvious even before that. I saw the looks you gave each other, looks that we never exchanged, and I just…I didn�
��t want to believe it. I didn’t want to believe that I was being replaced with a younger, prettier version of myself.”

  Now I’m laughing.

  “Don’t be a wanker,” she swears.

  “I’m not. I’m not trying to be. Listen, Jana, she is younger than you yes, and you are both very beautiful, strong women. But you are nothing alike. So don’t think that she is the same version of you. She isn’t. She is who she is, and you are who you are. And you are happy, aren’t you? Are you not still with William?”

  “I am. And we’re happy.”

  “So, what does it matter about us?”

  Silence falls over the line.

  “Claudio,” she says after a beat. “I don’t want to lose my son.”

  “You won’t lose your son,” I say tiredly. “He will always be your son. That will never, ever change. But…please. You saw how happy he was when he saw you. He loves and misses you. You need to be here more. Call him more. Be more involved in his life. Being a mother doesn’t mean you get all the privileges for doing none of the work. You still have to work at being in his life. It’s not fair to anyone otherwise, especially not him. You love him; show him that by being there.”

  She lets out a huff of air. “You know, you’re right.”

  “I know I am.”

  “I should do more…no excuses.”

  “Good. Because he needs you, and I need you to be his mother.”

  “But, eventually, he’ll want to be with Grace.”

  “You will always be his mother,” I tell her sternly. “And Grace, she will one day be my wife. But we can all make this work together.”

  “You’re going to marry her,” she says, more of a statement than a question.

  “I will. When the time is right, and when she’s moved in, and the dust has settled. Yes. I’m going to ask her to marry me. Jana, I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

  “Oh bloody hell. That makes me a matchmaker, doesn’t it?”

  “Did you send her here hoping she would meet me?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Then you can’t claim that. But if it weren’t for you taking an interest in her talent and her writing and the state of her mind, then no, perhaps we wouldn’t have met.” I wait a beat. “Speaking of, you know you really need to talk to her and apologize.”