by Penelope Sky
Antonio returned to work, and the four of us walked back to my gallery to say goodbye. Carmen had to return to her shop, and Conway and Sapphire were having dinner with my parents.
“Thanks for coming down to see me,” I said, appreciating the fact that I was never alone, even in my darkest hour. My brother was always there for me, even when I didn’t deserve it. I looked up to him in ways he would never understand.
“Of course.” Conway gave me a one-armed hug. “It’s nice to see that you’re doing better.”
“I am?” I asked in surprise.
“Definitely.” Sapphire hugged me next. “It’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in over two months.”
I smiled? “Yeah…I guess so.”
Conway kept his arm around Sapphire’s waist as he looked at me on the sidewalk. “I like Antonio.”
I didn’t narrow my eyes even though I wanted to. “Con, you hardly know him.”
“But I liked what I saw,” he said. “He included himself in our conversation instead of being intimidated. He connected with all of us. He made jokes, never took himself too seriously, and he was always himself. Plus, I can tell he’s hung up on you.”
I tried to stop the blush from entering my cheeks, but it was no use.
“So infatuated with you,” Sapphire said. “It’s obvious.”
They had no idea just how intimate Antonio and I had already been, that he was willing to wait until I was ready before something could finally happen between us. The second he set his sights on me, he’d made up his mind.
“Any man who can spend time with your family so casually is good enough,” Conway said. “Father looked into him and saw how successful this guy is. Now I’ve seen how down-to-earth he is. This guy has nothing to hide. He’s clean and kind. That’s all we want, someone who understands you and can make you happy.”
“As much as I appreciate that, you’re still jumping the gun,” I said. “I’m not dating Antonio. We’re just friends. I’m not ready to be in another relationship. I’m not even ready to go on a date.”
“That’s fine,” Conway said. “And it’s obvious this guy likes you enough to be patient with you. But whenever you are ready, he’s got the approval of the whole family, which is something you’ve always wanted in a partner. So…just keep that in mind.”
Twelve
Vanessa
Weeks passed, and during that time, I focused on my painting and running the gallery. Business picked up so much that I considered hiring someone to help me run the business. I would need someone to be there during business hours, to handle sales while I was painting or taking care of other things.
Antonio stopped by sometimes, bringing coffee or asking me to lunch. He never asked me to dinner, tried to come to my apartment, or invited me to his. He took things slow like I wanted, not even touching me.
Without the pressure of romance, it was easier for me to get to know him, to feel comfortable around him when we sat across from each other at lunch or coffee. He always stared at me with a possessive look, like he couldn’t wait until I was finally ready for something more.
He hadn’t tried to hold me again. Last time, it was so intimate and close that it was too much for both of us. It was too much for me because I wasn’t ready for someone new, and it was too much for him because he could hardly restrain himself and keep his promise.
When three months had come and gone, I felt better about the breakup with Bones. I still loved him, would never forget him, but now my chest didn’t hurt all the time. My dreams weren’t always about him. Throughout the day, he wasn’t the only thing on my mind.
It’d been a cruel three months, one of the most difficult periods in my life. I didn’t consider myself to be over him, not yet. But I was definitely better now than I was before. I wasn’t ready to be with Antonio romantically, but I’d started to let him into my heart.
I was about to close the gallery for the day when Antonio walked inside, a large bag gripped in his hand. “Hope you’re hungry. I brought dinner.”
“Ooh…I’m always hungry.” I’d just finished hanging up a new painting, so I wiped my hands on my jeans then turned to him. “What did you get?”
“I made salmon, rice, and broccoli.”
“You made it?” I asked in surprise. “You cook?”
He grinned. “Yep. And I’m pretty good at it.” He pulled out the plastic containers and set everything on the floor. The only surface I had was my desk with my computer, but I only had one chair. So eating in the center of the room was our only choice.
“Wow. I’m impressed.”
“I’m a man of many talents.” He pulled out a bottle of wine and poured two glasses, and he produced two plastic forks.
I sat across from him, the art lights still hitting the paintings. It was bright inside the room compared to the darkness outside. The sun had set, and the buildings blocked any extra light that could have hit the street.
I picked up my fork and dug in. “Wow…this is good.”
“Told ya.” He scooped the food into his mouth, his chiseled jaw working as he chewed. He washed it down with the white wine and then lifted his gaze to me. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Like it? I love it. I’ve never been able to cook anything. I’m so bad at it.”
“I can always teach you.”
“I doubt it,” I said with a chuckle. “Griffin always…” I stopped myself from talking, knowing it was rude to talk about my ex when Antonio went to all this trouble to make me dinner. I had to be better at that, to not talk about the love of my life every time he popped into my head.
Antonio kept eating like Griffin hadn’t been mentioned at all.
“You know about my love life. Can I ask you about yours?”
“What do you want to know?” He finished eating then set his empty container on the hardwood floor.
“I don’t know. Have you ever loved someone the way I love Griffin?” Was that too personal of a question? He didn’t have to answer anything he didn’t feel comfortable with.
“No.” He said it quickly, without even having to think about his answer. “Not in the intense way you’ve described. I’ve had somewhat serious relationships throughout my twenties. Some that lasted a year or so. But they eventually ran their course and we both moved on.”
He didn’t describe his romantic life in the way I described mine—at all. It didn’t seem like he’d ever really been in love either. He just had one relationship and then the next. “Did you ever love these women?”
“I said that I did,” he said. “But now, I realize there are different kinds of love, different levels. I’ve never felt this all-consuming passion that you describe for Griffin. I’ve never felt weak in the knees, or like I couldn’t live without this person. I was seeing a woman when you and I met. It’d been a few months, but I wouldn’t consider it to be serious. But when I met you, I knew something was going to happen. So I ended things with her.”
I froze on the spot, unable to believe what I’d just heard. “You left her?”
“I had to.” He drank his wine as he looked at me. “I didn’t want to keep seeing her while another woman was on my mind. The second I felt our connection, I knew my relationship with her was over anyway. I wanted to pursue this regardless of where it went, and if I stayed with her, it wouldn’t fair. She deserves to be with a man who worships her. I realized I wasn’t that man…and I made the right decision for both of us.”
Speechless, I set my container on the floor, no longer hungry. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you even if it’s never been romantic. I’ve gotten a lot more enjoyment out of it than I ever did with her…not to insult her in any way. There’s something special here, something everlasting. Something tells me this is where I’m meant to be…when you’re ready to have me.”
I lowered my gaze, unable to look him in the eye. It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said
to me. “Thank you for being so patient with me. I know it must be frustrating…”
“Not in the least,” he said. “And that’s how I know you’re worth waiting for.” He gave me a slight smile before he drank his wine. “Your family is nice. Will they be back sometime soon?”
I was relieved he’d changed the subject, especially when things became too intense. “My brother and sister-in-law are still looking for a place in Tuscany. Sapphire wants to be close to my parents, but Conway doesn’t want to be too close.”
He chuckled. “Understandable.”
“I see Carmen pretty often since our shops are only a few blocks apart.”
“What does she do?”
“She runs a flower shop.”
“That’s wonderful,” he said. “So all the Barsettis are extremely successful.”
“I don’t know about extremely…but we’re hardworking people.”
He drank his wine again. “Same thing. What are your parents like?”
“Well…my father is the most intense and brooding man you’ve ever meet. My mother is a breath of fresh air during a sandstorm.”
He chuckled. “Good description.”
“My father was actually in the gallery when you first asked me out.”
“He was?” Antonio was about to finish off his wine, but he steadied his glass instead. “I didn’t notice him.”
“He was on the other side of this wall.” I pointed to the small divider that held two other paintings and separated the gallery into different sections. “He came by to take me to lunch, and I was finishing up some work when you walked in. He heard everything…told everyone in my family about it.”
“That must have been awkward,” he said with a chuckle. “If I’d known, I definitely would have picked a better time. Sorry about that. I’m not sorry I did that, but I’m sorry that it must have made you uncomfortable.”
“No, don’t apologize. It’s actually the reason why my father likes you. He said he liked your confidence as well as your respect. When I said no, you didn’t rush me. But you also had the self-assuredness to take control of the situation. My father is very, very picky when it comes to the men who express interest in me. So there’s something about you that he liked.”
“Good to know. I’m really glad I stormed in here and demanded a date from you.”
I smiled, enjoying his joke. “Me too.”
His playful expression faded away when he saw me smile. His eyes softened noticeably, his affection brightening at the same time. It was the first time I’d acknowledged something romantic about us, had opened up to him in some way, and he definitely noticed. “Can I demand a date from you tomorrow night? Our first date?”
It’d been three months, and there was no going back at this point. Bones and I were done, and I would probably never see him again. The twinge in my heart would fade in time, and maybe I needed to start dating for that discomfort to finally go away. Antonio had been patient with me, and my entire family already liked him. But most importantly, I liked him. “Yeah…I’d love to.”
Antonio stood in front of my painting, his hands resting in his pockets. He took his time in front of each one, examining the colors under the art lights. We left our dinner in the middle of the room, the wine bottle nearly empty because we both had a love of wine. “I really like this one.”
I stood beside him, my shoulder almost touching his body. “You said that about the other one.”
“Because I mean it.” He moved to the left and examined another painting, an image of a vase with yellow flowers. It was sitting on the counter of Carmen’s shop, and the background was full of tools, windows, and other flowers that were ready to be sold. The focal point was the vase, but the real subject was the flower shop in Florence. “Now…I really like this one. The vase is so simple and calm, but everything around it hints at the chaos of running a shop. From the disarrayed tools to the loose petals that have fallen on the tabletop, to Carmen working in the background. So much detail.” He continued to stare at it, his arms resting by his sides. Other people loved my paintings too, but he stared at them with professional scrutiny. His eyes were like sponges, soaking up every line and every color. He got lost in my paintings the way I did when I created them. There was no one else in the world who understood my artwork the way he did.
Examining each other’s artwork was my favorite pastime. I loved to look at his creations and describe what I felt, and I loved listening to him do the same for my work. We praised one another, dissected one another. I never felt self-conscious about my talent when he examined my pieces. If anything, I felt more confident.
Without looking at me, he moved his hand to mine. His fingers interlocked between my digits, and he gave me a tight squeeze with his large hand.
My breathing stopped when I felt his touch. Despite how innocent it was, I felt like we were connected in every way possible. I felt the heat between us, the undeniable chemistry that flowed through our veins. He made me feel alive, banished the shadow that hung over my head. He made me feel invigorated, charged. My breathing started to escalate because the searing connection between us was burning my skin. All we did was hold hands, but it seemed like more than that.
He turned his head my way slightly so he could look at me. “You feel that?”
I nodded.
“When I touch you, I feel what I feel when I look at your paintings. I feel so much…with so little. I’ve waited a month just to hold your hand, but I’d wait a lifetime for this kind of embrace.” He didn’t lean in to kiss me or give me a sign that he would try, but holding my hand was intimate enough. He turned to the painting again, getting lost in the colors.
I looked forward again and then rested my head on his shoulder, feeling my heart race even faster as more of our skin touched. It felt wrong, but it also felt right. It would never feel the way it did with Bones, but I certainly felt something.
Antonio turned his head my way and placed a kiss at my hairline, his soft lips touching my warm skin.
I closed my eyes, remembering the last time Bones did the same thing. I missed his kisses, missed the way he used to look at me like I was all that mattered. I still missed him, still loved him. Moving on from him was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do, but I was finally making progress. I couldn’t feel guilty for finding someone else, not when I waited three months and gave my heart plenty of time to heal. But even if I did fall in love with Antonio, I knew I would never stop loving Bones.
Never.
Thirteen
Bones
I quit drinking six weeks ago.
I hated every second of it.
Losing booze was just as bad as losing Vanessa.
I poured myself into my work because I had nothing else to do with my time. I used to drink a lot, but now that it was taken away from me, I had nothing else to keep busy. The only reason I got clean in the first place was because I’d lost myself to the darkness. Being sober somewhat pulled me out, punished me for the idiotic crime I’d committed.
I had much better control now.
I was in Milan because I’d just come back from a long job. It was in Ireland, and I had a long hit list. Max was giving me lots of work because it made me feel better. The guys got to take time off work, and I got to keep busy. It worked for all of us.
But I couldn’t work all the time.
The quiet times when I was alone were the worst. I never thought I would turn into a pussy like this, the kind of man that moped around after he lost a woman. I should have been over Vanessa six weeks after we went our separate ways.
But now it’d been three months—and I still felt like shit.
I hadn’t gotten pussy because that never felt right. The few times when the opportunity arose, I changed my mind and went home alone. The only action I got was when my hand was wrapped around my length.
Now I was a pathetic man who jerked off every night.
What the fuck had happened to me?
My original goal w
as to wipe out the Barsetti line for good. But instead, they destroyed my life—a second time.
I couldn’t believe I’d let this happen.
I was sitting in the living room when the elevator beeped to tell me someone was approaching. It had to be Max because he was now the only other one with the code to the building. I’d been sitting on the couch, shirtless, and watching TV. A glass of water sat on the table in front of me.
Fucking piss.
I missed the dark amber liquid of booze. I missed the burn down my throat. I missed the constant buzz my brain was under. Now that I was constantly sober, my mind was clear, and I couldn’t keep Vanessa out of my thoughts.
I hated being sober.
It wasn’t me.
The only reason I kept my word was because I owed that much to my boys. They were worried about me after that stupid night, and I had to prove to them that the worst had passed. I was in control once more. But I still didn’t drink because my name hadn’t been cleared yet.
The doors opened, and Max walked inside. “I just wired the cash.”
“I saw that.”
“You did a great job. No one suspected a thing.”
“No one ever suspects a thing.”
He glanced at my water glass and then took a look around the apartment. “Are you really going to sell this place?”
As much as I loved this apartment, I couldn’t live here anymore. Vanessa’s ghost still drifted in the hallway during the night. Her presence was still in the sheets, on the couch. Sometimes I would find random souvenirs that she’d left behind, like a hair tie in the bathroom drawer or a thong that got stuck to my clothes in the dryer. I kept waiting for it to get easier, but it never did. I needed to start over.
