“But you don’t?”
I shook my head. “I know you’ll tell me the truth. You’re incapable of lying.”
“Am I?”
“I know you better than you think, Pia.”
“I have to go back to the house. My mamma will worry.”
“I’ll take you.”
“I’d rather walk.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
“You aren’t going to ask me to stay?”
“I would if I thought that’s what you wanted. Instead, I think you want me to prove to you I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re going to stay here, in the farmhouse?”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing. I love this place.” I waved my arm in a sweeping motion. I wasn’t lying; I really did love it. A new bed and pillows would be in order if I was going to stay for a few months, but otherwise, this place felt like home.
I walked Pia to the front door of the villa. She bit her lower lip as though she was struggling with something.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Mylos?” She rested the palms of her hands on my arms. “Is this real?”
I leaned down and touched her lips with mine. “Nothing has ever felt more real to me.”
I stood outside the door longer than I should have after she closed it. Perhaps somewhere inside of me, I hoped she’d come back out. Finally, I turned and left.
On the walk back, I thought a lot about what real meant to me. I’d seen and done more in my lifetime than any man should. Those things, like the explosion, had changed me. I’d suffered through unimaginable pain, got addicted to painkillers, and experienced terrifying nightmares almost every night. Almost every night. On the very rare occasions when Pia slept in my arms, I didn’t recall dreaming.
When I was with her, I remembered that sixteen-year-old boy who was infatuated to the point of exclusion of everything else. I talked more, laughed more, relaxed more. She brought light into my life, and I vowed I wouldn’t bring any more darkness into hers.
Instead of going inside, I stood on the farmhouse terrazza and looked up at the night sky. The more time I spent with Pia, the more at peace I felt. The longer I was at Valentini, the more at home I felt.
Climbing the stairs, I knew that regardless of whether another was bigger or more comfortable, I’d sleep in the same room I had ten years ago. The room where I’d looked out the window one day and lost my heart to a beautiful girl whose smile and laughter spoke directly to my soul.
I slept quite late the next morning, by my standards anyway. When I made my way downstairs, I was delighted to find fresh fruit and pastries I didn’t recall being there the night before on the counter. I looked over and noticed the door to the terrazza was
slightly ajar. When I peeked out and saw Pia sitting at the table, I went out to join her.
It was a little nippy, considering I was wearing only flannel trousers—no shirt, no shoes—but just the sight of her warmed me.
“Good morning.” I leaned down and kissed her cheek. She looked up at me and smiled.
“Buongiorno.”
I noticed she had a plate of fruit on the table in front of her. “What a lovely surprise to have you join me for breakfast.”
“I wanted to make sure I wasn’t dreaming last night.” She reached up and touched the ruby necklace with her fingertips. “I love this,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
“It looks so beautiful against your skin.”
Her cheeks turned pink, and she smiled. “I’m happy you’re here, Mylos. I know it didn’t sound that way. But, I am.”