It feels like yesterday when those arms were wrapped around me. The reminders of what we used to have come crashing down violently. So much so that I draw a hand to my throat, stabilizing how dry it’s become. I still feel the tip of Giulio’s fingers skim over my tender skin. The sensual kisses. The chaste ones. The security. The honesty. My best friend. My husband. Everything that once was the Giulio Giannotti I fell in love with and married.
Before the complications.
Before we both changed for the worst.
Before we ended our marriage and everything that came with it.
I know what it feels like to be on the opposite side of that smile—it’s contagious. Almost intoxicating. I used to be willing to give anything to be the one who made him happy. The twins are those lucky people now, and I hope they never grow sick of our devotion for them. The same applies to Addilyn. They will always be on the other end of our smiles, even if we never look at each other in that same way again.
“So, what’s this boy’s name?”
“Samuel.”
“You’re far too young for that, darling. I’m the only man who can kiss you.” She giggles at Giulio’s attack of cheek kisses. “No other boy will do that until you’re older and until it is truly what you want. Understood, carina?”
“I promise, Daddy.”
“Good.”
“Don’t worry, Ma.” Oscar winks and nudges the dip of my waist. “All the girls try and hold my hand at school but I don’t want none of them. You’re the best hand holder.”
“No, you’re the best. I love you!” I hold onto him tightly, never wanting to let go.
When I do pull back, Giulio’s hot gaze lands on mine and it’s all over. The pact I made with myself to reserve all my nerves shatters into a million pieces as those eyes burn straight through me. They’re heavenly fire. A perfect concoction of gray with specks of powder blue in the center.
It’s as if he can see me. All of me.
The twins run off down the hall, and as much as I want to pull away, I don’t. I’m trapped in his stare, at his mercy from all the emotion it brings. We remain in silence, inactive in clutching our past, and so instead, we simply stare at one another as if we are in foreign lands. Our bodies are inches apart, so much so that I can feel his hot breath tickle my lips. It shouldn’t affect me this much. I should be able to stand and venture into the kitchen.
Instead, I stay.
And so does he. For now…
The vision of him during therapy replays in my mind. Do you still want me?
As much as I want to say yes, I can’t. Just because I’m still attracted to Giulio doesn’t mean we have a resolution. Our sentiments are and always will be laid out on the table. I still feel that beat in my chest when I see him, but it’s not for complete infatuation, it’s for disappointment. It’s heartache and devastation all in one.
Giulio answers the question for me as the muscles in his jaw tighten before he retreats.
I thought these five months would have provided me with a small comfort or some sense of security at least, but it hasn’t. Our daughter is still missing and I’m just as heartbroken that we can’t see the entire case eye to eye as the first day.
The large tear in my heart mimics the sound that comes from ripping the paper from therapy into shreds. I should have been honest and told Dr. Eross that I couldn’t comply. Not only have I let him down, but I’ve let myself down too.
My mouth waters in the kitchen from the sweet aromas of Giulio’s homemade cooking. It soon turns bitter when I open the trash can to throw away the paper, only to find half a dozen red roses.
“Were these for…”
“You? Yes, partly. They were for Addilyn too.”
“What happened?”
Shards of smoky glass circle his eyes as Giulio opens and closes his mouth. A sharp, staggered breath escapes me and when I finally do open my eyes again, his back is to me. He’s slowly stirring the pasta and by the white noise between us, I know our conversation is over.
This is certainly not what I imagined life would be like marrying the man of my dreams. The cracks only appeared after we became skin deep in a missing person investigation.
“I’m cooking your favorite.”
Spaghetti Bolognese.
“Thank you.” I fail to mention every single one of his dishes is my favorite. They still are because they remind me of him. Of us. Giulio has always been a passionate cook; it’s the Italian in him.
In an attempt to distract myself, I focus on the accents of brushed brass and white marble surrounding us. My gaze flickers to the cream herringbone backsplash tiles. The kitchen is dim and moody, producing an elusively false sense of romanticism.
I despise the way my eyes are drawn back to him to analyze his jawline and straight nose. His attractive features, that narrowed waist, and his impressively toned body plunges me from my thoughts as he turns to face me. Giulio should be miles away and I should be able to breathe properly.
“How was therapy?”
“It was…progressive.”
“Good to hear. Is everything else okay?” His voice comes out softer than I expected.
Giulio’s question remains in the air when I grasp two wine glasses. No. Nothing is okay.
“Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You seem different tonight.”
“You can judge all that based upon the two minutes we’ve seen each other?”
“No,” Giulio rejects sternly. “I can judge that based upon the seven years I knew you.”
I knew you.
The words are toxins against my ears. Past tense. They have no meaning. None.
Giulio fell in love with the type of woman I once was. Before all the shit got in the way. Now, he is left to adapt to the changed person I am. I know this because I find myself doing the same with him. That’s what makes it harder, that we have to accept that perhaps we’ll never be the people we once were. Coincidentally, it’s also the equalizer between us, the only thing that is fair as we’re both struggling to comprehend it.
I take a step forward and grip the necks of two wine options. “Red or white?”
He gives me nothing.
“Red or white, Giulio?”
Silence.
“Red or whi—”
He interrupts me. “You’ve known me for nearly seven years, you already know which one.”
That damn seven-year itch.
I thrust the Merlot bottle into his chest and put away the other. “Pour it yourself.”
Leave.
I wish I could tell him to go but the words get stuck on my tongue. I tread away from him in fury to the open plan dining room and set down the wine glasses.
Why is everything a battle with him?
Why can’t we see Addilyn’s disappearance in the same light?
Giulio believes it’s best to let go of the torment and accept her fate. She will always be in our hearts. I cannot live like that. I’ve tried. I did. For him, I tried to accept it, but I can’t see it like him nor let go of hope.
Giulio attempted to have faith after the abduction like I did. She will come back to us. He tried. He did. For me. Yet, it all came crashing down and he can’t part with his gut instinct. And so our diverse outlooks on our daughter’s case has caused us the tragedy of a broken marriage. We speak less. Love less. Give up over and over again.
How can he lose hope in finding our baby?
If I thought I escaped the tense waters we call legal marriage separation, I thought wrong. Giulio’s warmth consumes me in areas it shouldn’t. I’m still by the dining table when his hard chest presses against my back. Electricity awakens my skin as his hands find their way to my shoulders and he massages the knots of tension away. It’s the first time he’s touched me in months. We mold into one as his fingers dance their way to my exposed neck and my resilience slips ever so slightly as those warm lips reach the shell of my ear. I feel myself slowly sinking into Giulio’s world, one where I know
if I dip my feet in for too long, I’ll never want to get out.
“Valencia,” he whispers softly. “Please, tell me what’s going on.”
See? I knew his innate knowledge would come to bite me in the ass.
Giulio knows my mind and how my body reacts to both dilemmas and pleasure. He knows the little ways to have me come spinning inside his world, and although we’re separated, although I shouldn’t feel this way towards him, I still do. I’m home in the warmth he projects.
“It will feel too real if I say it out loud.”
“That’s an even better reason why you should tell me.”
“Why? What would it help?”
I know it’s me. It has always been me. I’m the problem. My desire to hold onto hope caused the fracture in this damned marriage. But I’ll be damned to say that I regret holding onto good faith in this investigation. I will be damned if I give up on Addilyn too. I can’t.
It hurts too much.
Concern laces his every word and it makes it worse. “Please, Valencia. Talk to me.”
Even when Giulio’s touch fades, his masculine cologne remains lingering in the air. It’s fresh with Italian hesperidium fruits of tangerine and bitter orange. A touch of musk enriched oak and subtle sandalwood creates the perfect blend of sensuous sexiness. It taunts me. Enough to onset the heavy palpitations of my heart.
I turn around so we’re face to face. His pulled expression demands something more from me; I decide to set myself free. “I lost my job on Tuesday.” The shallow breath I take is hardly enough to fill my lungs. “The truth is I haven’t been concentrating at work. With summer ending and Addilyn…I thought I had enough in me to persevere, but parents had meetings with me before the break and voiced their concerns. High school is critical. Art is the most creative aspect of young minds and so during a meeting with the principal the other day, we concluded it would be best if we parted ways.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. Is there something I can do to help?”
“Not at this stage, but I appreciate it. Thank you.”
“It will take time, but you’ll get there again. I know you will.”
“Thanks. Everything seems just so…”
“…Surreal?”
“Yes, exactly! It hurts knowing nothing will ever be the same until we find her again. I mean, it’s six months today, but I haven’t been okay since the first day. Addilyn…she has to be out there somewhere.”
It’s done.
My thoughts are black and white laid out on the table, the same ones that have Giulio back away, our sweet Addilyn.
“I’m sorry…” The warmth in his eyes fades until it all comes crashing down. “I can’t tell you what you don’t want to hear.”
Wow.
I can’t believe this!
I shake my head the second he walks away and follow him back into the kitchen. “Well I’m sorry, but I still can’t believe you don’t have one inch of hope that she could still be alive.”
“We have to face reality, Valencia.”
“This is reality, Giulio.”
“For you maybe.”
“And for you?”
The tension between us escalates with a sharp sigh. “To me, this is false hope. You know that. You know I feel that way. The hope will only get worse. It is not good for any of us.”
The ‘not good for us’ line sets me off and I don’t know if it’s solely based on my vexation or my hallucination of him earlier. “I cannot just forget about her. This, you know.”
Giulio switches off the stove. It takes two strides for his six-foot-one frame to tower over me. His voice remains composed, but I know that I have pushed him enough. “I never said that. See, this is the issue. You accuse me of things I never say. All I’m saying, all I have ever said, is that we are slowly losing our minds over it.”
“Dead or alive I’m still losing my mind over it! There you go! I admit it! I am losing my mind over it! That’s what happens when depression takes over. It’s bleak. It’s cold. It makes you feel as though you are on the edge, but at least I have emotion! At least I feel something!”
“Do not,” Giulio grits with flared nostrils. “Do not throw around a word like that.”
“What word, huh? Depression? Is that the word?” Tears form in my eyes as I swallow my pride and open a cupboard, raiding it until I find my small orange plastic bottle. I shove it into his dress shirt with a growl. “Here! Here you have it! I have a fucking right to say the word because that is what I am. Depressed.”
Loud thumps of anguish thud in my ears.
Time slows as he takes the bottle from me.
“I’m sorry, Valencia,” he whispers after a while, breaking the silence. “I didn’t know you started taking anti-depressants. I didn’t mean to cause any…What were you diagnosed with?”
“Clinical depression.”
Head still low, his eyes flicker from the label to me. “When?”
“Last month.”
“Why didn’t you tell me until now?”
I cross my hands over my chest and shrug. “I guess I was too busy catching false hope according to you. While you were out there forgetting, I was—”
“You know how much I loved Addilyn. How much I cared for her. How much I still do.”
“Then why don’t you believe me?”
“Valencia, please. Let’s not do this right now.”
“I need to know!” I beg him in a fit of hysteria. “There’s this pain inside me and it intensifies every time you shut me out. I needed you and you were never here. You are still never here. Why can’t you have faith? Why can’t you admit that there is a possibility she is still—”
“BECAUSE IT’S BEEN SIX MONTHS. HOW DO YOU SUPPOSE SHE’S ALIVE?” Giulio’s outburst has him slamming the pills against the kitchen counter. Orange plastic shatters and flies everywhere with pills scattering in every direction.
Oh my god.
My heart splits in two, all over again.
I know his actions were unintentional from the way his face crumbles. He was only blindly motioning his hands and didn’t expect this as a consequence. Yet it happened. Giulio’s heavy breaths intensify the anarchy between us. Regret is there, but his anger doesn’t subside. Neither does mine.
I’m numb by the sight against the kitchen tiles. At the sight of myself. At the sight of us.
We’re nothing but a distorted reality.
I can’t hear the television in the distance anymore. It only means one thing: the twins have heard us. We were too loud to even question it. I wouldn’t be surprised if a neighbor or the police soon knock on the door with their concerns.
This is what a missing child does to a family.
One of two things is bound to happen. You unite or you fracture.
This is all too much.
“You didn’t believe it from the first day. I want you to leave, Giulio,” I whisper.
“I didn’t mean to…” Remorse paints over his face. “Let me help clean up at least.”
I wipe away the tears with the sleeves of my sweater. “No, I’ll do it. Please, just go.”
Giulio’s face weakens and his eyes turn red and glassy. When he runs a hand over his mouth, it doesn’t rub away our grief for that absent place in our hearts our love once lay.
We’re not good for each other.
Sorrow overthrows his bare whisper. “I’ll take the twins with me.”
“Okay. It’s your night with them anyway.”
“It’s best if you don’t say goodnight. They’ll see right through us.”
Giulio’s right. As much as it pains me, I know that I will be unstable in front of them. I want nothing but security displayed in front of our twins. They deserve to be uplifted by us, even when we don’t support one another.
We stare at each other for one last moment before he steps over the pills and plastic. In the distance, I hear our children’s faint voices asking if I’m okay. Giulio’s response is inaudible, but whatever he does
say is the opposite of everything I’m feeling.
My chest tightens the moment the front door slams shut and I’m on my own with nothing but a disaster surrounding me. My sobs lead me to sweep away the plastic and salvage the white circular pills.
They’re my only chance at serenity.
The agony at the back of my throat continues as I prepare the pasta dish and store it away. I don’t want it now. Perhaps Helena and her kids can have it tomorrow night for dinner.
I pour myself a glass of Merlot and storm through these cursed hallways to the front porch. I shouldn’t have listened. I should have said goodbye to Oscar and Slonne.
The hell with Giulio Giannotti.
The wooden porch step grazes against my jeans as I take a seat. I need to clear my mind from all the nerve endings exploding at this derailed stage of my life. Seattle’s air is now damp and blankets of ominous clouds banish the dark blue skies. It disturbs me. It was exactly like this when Addilyn was taken.
Addilyn.
I take a gulp of wine every time I feel a sob surface. The mix of dry and rich flavors blend into a pit of nothingness. I feel nothing. The thoughts cultivate. I miss her so much. I need her.
At first, I don’t register the movement across the street, but when I do I see an unrecognizable man standing beside a parked gray car. I can’t decipher the make, but the bright orange cigarette embers burn deep into the evening. His gaze is straight ahead, studying me.
The tears make him blurry and I take it as a warning to hurry inside. But when I peer out the front facing window, he’s already gotten into his car and takes off.
What did he want?
Who is he?
I realize the pounding in my head has been there all night, but my rapid heartbeat took over at some point. I had managed to silence both of them while in company, but now all that answers me is white noise, shattered vows, and the tears which continue to flood my cheeks, begging me for something beyond this suffering.
Merciful Vows: A Bittersweet Second Chance Romantic Suspense (The Giannotti World Book 1) Page 3
