“I think…he thinks he’s responsible for what happened to you.” A delicate flush paints Honor’s cheeks. “I might have said that to him, actually. Repeatedly.”
I can imagine. “I want to see him.”
Honor studies me. “Are you sure? Because if you’re afraid of him, or if you just don’t want to see him for any reason, you don’t have to. You don’t owe him anything.”
She’s such a fierce protector. I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “Thank you for that. But please. I want to see my husband.”
* * *
I first met Giovanni as an eighteen-year-old boy, with lean muscles and beautiful eyes.
Then I saw him again as a grown man. His chest and shoulders had filled out with muscle. He seemed taller even though that shouldn’t have been possible. The biggest changes were the hard angles of his face—and the harsh scars on his back.
When Giovanni walks into the bedroom, he’s aged ten years.
There’s a beard growing on his face, in only two days’ time. His eyes are bloodshot, rimmed with red. His clothes hang rumpled on his large frame.
He approaches the bed the way a man faces his execution. “Clara.”
I reach for his hand. After staring at it for a beat, he takes it. His hand is cool and dry, loosely framed around mine. “Are you okay?” I ask, hesitant.
His lip quirks in that familiar way. “I think that’s my line.”
Some relief fills me to hear him sound normal. “I’m okay. Or I will be, once I have a test-tube shot.”
“A what?”
“Green. Lime green. Never mind.”
He looks away, his jaw clenched. “Clara. I want you to know, I won’t hold you to the vows. Obviously they weren’t real.”
My heart clenches, and I don’t think it’s only the throbbing in my shoulder. I try for levity. “Is this because my sister’s scary?”
He gives a short laugh. “She is. But I decided you had to go before you were taken.”
A dark shadow settles over me. “Because of what I told you.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”
He runs a finger across my cheek. “I look at you like you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met. It’s an honor knowing you.”
“That sounds like a goodbye.”
“As soon as you’re healthy enough to travel, you can go back home.”
“But your mother…”
“I’ll keep looking for her one way or another.” His smile is sad. “Having you would solidify my standing with the family…but the truth is I took you for myself. Because I wanted you. I wanted you the entire time, and in a moment of weakness, I let myself have you.”
My eyes prick with tears. “Gio.”
“I know I should apologize for that, but I’m not sorry for that. I’m only sorry I have to let you go.” He pulls his hand away, leaving me bereft.
He turns away, showing me his broad shoulders. Both my sister and Gio called me strong today, but I don’t feel strong. All my life I’ve used my art to express my hopes, my dreams. And now I’m watching my greatest hope walk away from me.
“Wait,” I whisper.