Chapter 13 #3
“I know, compared to yours it looks like something a kindergartener made,” I say, laughing.
“I like it,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes me look at him. “You can tell you followed your instinct. The colors and the movement work beautifully.”
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He turns toward me, his eyes meeting mine. “You got paint here,” he says, touching the spot just beside my nose.
When I lift my hand to wipe it, he stops me. “Don’t rub it. It’s already dry. I’ll be right back.”
He crosses the studio, disappears through a small door, and returns with a cup of water and a hand towel.
With careful movements, he cleans my face. And I thank the universe for not wearing foundation today, just a little concealer under my eyes.
“All set,” he murmurs, setting the cup and towel aside.
But then he lifts his thumb again, brushing the same spot, as if checking his work... or looking for an excuse to touch me one more time.
I look at him, and the amber in his eyes darkens. Intense. Drawn to me. Swallowing hard, I place my hand on his chest, stepping closer without even thinking about what I’m doing.
Alexander draws a deep breath, and his other hand finds my waist.
My heart stumbles into a frantic rhythm.
“Cecilia...”
My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.
Alexander leans in, his nose brushing the curve of my neck. The roughness of his beard sends a shiver through me, and I instinctively lean closer to him. “Il tuo profumo... Your scent makes me stop thinking when you’re this close.”
His hand tightens at my waist, pulling me flush to him. My other hand rests on his chest, and when he looks at me... my knees go weak. Nothing could pull my focus from his eyes, or stop what I know is seconds away.
His thumb glides along my cheekbone as he murmurs, “Tu sei il mio sole, la mia—”[XL]
He doesn’t finish.
My phone starts ringing, vibrating in the pocket pressed against his hip, putting an end to the tension. It takes me a few seconds to remember how to think and breathe. I slip a hand between us and pull out my phone.
I answer with Alexander still watching me, his hand resting on my face.
But then I hear Ethan’s voice. It’s like a bucket of cold water.
“Mom? I didn’t wake you, did I? I’m just calling to say I’m going to sleep at Conrad’s. We came here and he bought a new game, so we’re playing it.”
I step back from Alexander, and he lets me go, though I can feel the reluctance in the way his hand falls from my skin.
“No, honey, I’m not home yet. Don’t worry, you didn’t wake me,” I say, forcing my voice to sound normal... even though my pulse hasn’t slowed at all. “Take care and call me if you need anything, all right? I love you.”
As soon as Ethan hangs up, I turn and Alexander is no longer behind me. I notice the door to what I assume is the bathroom closed, and I stay exactly where I am, unsure of what to do.
A moment later, he returns... and I haven’t moved an inch.
“It was Ethan,” I say, lifting my phone. “He wanted to let me know he’s not sleeping at home tonight.”
Alexander smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “We should go back upstairs,” he says, his voice carefully controlled.
A pang of disappointment hits me, but I brush it off. “Of course.”
I turn away, dropping my phone into my purse and starting to undo the knot of the smock. But Alexander covers my hands with his.
He takes it off for me and helps me into my jacket, his touch still careful, tender... but not the same. Everything has shifted. No longer charged, no longer buzzing the way it has these past weeks.
It feels strained now. Like restraint, or regret.
We climb the stairs without a word. And this time, he doesn’t place his hand at the small of my back or reach for my hand.
The absence of that touch settles deep in my chest. Enough to make me wonder if maybe... maybe the interruption wasn’t a disappointment for him at all. Maybe it was a relief.
Alexander parks in front of my house and steps out to open the passenger door.
We didn’t stay much longer at Aurélie’s loft after going back upstairs.
He wouldn’t let me skip dinner, so I had some of what was being served and finished another glass of wine.
I talked with his sister for a while, and even when Alexander mingled with the other guests, he never strayed far from me.
When he opens my door, I step out, and he walks with me to my front steps without a single word. My fingers tight around the key, I wonder if I should invite him in… or if “goodnight” would feel too abrupt after everything that almost happened... and everything that didn’t.
But Alexander speaks first. “Thank you for coming with me tonight. I didn’t want to leave tomorrow without seeing you at least one more time.”
My heart stutters at the reminder that he’s flying back to Italy in the morning. I could have seen him more this week if not for my own foolishness.
“When will you be back?”
He runs a hand along his beard. “I’m not sure. I need to take care of business in Milan, deal with some family matters... and the closer we get to the end of the year, the more there is to resolve.”
“I understand,” I say, giving him a small smile, hiding what hearing this makes me feel. “Thank you for inviting me. I really enjoyed meeting your sister.”
“And she enjoyed meeting you far more. I’ll talk to her and arrange for your canvas to be delivered.”
He leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Ciao, Cecilia.”
The words get stuck in my throat, so I just watch as he steps away. At the top of the steps, he stops short, his hand curling into a fist like he’s fighting with himself, before he turns right back around. With determined steps, he closes the distance and pulls me into his arms.
I don’t know how long we stay like that... my arms around his waist, his wrapped fully around me, his face buried in my hair like he’s trying to hold on, afraid I’d disappear if he let go.
When he finally pulls back, he’s smiling. “Now I can leave.”
“Alexander, about what happened...” I try to gather my thoughts, try to find words that don’t exist yet.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Don’t feel pressured to say anything.”
He cups my face in both hands and presses a kiss to my forehead... then to the tip of my nose.
“I’ll be here for you,” he murmurs. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Then he lets me go and turns, walking toward the car.
When I see that he doesn’t get into the car, that he’s still standing there watching me, I realize he’s waiting for me to go inside and be safe before he leaves.
Once I set the alarm, I lean back on the door and close my eyes.
“I’ll be here for you, whenever you’re ready.”
And what if I’m never ready?
I pour myself a mug of coffee and carry it to my office, taking advantage of the empty house to get ahead on some work for the week.
Ethan texted earlier saying he’d be having lunch with Dalila and her parents, and that he’d only be home in the early evening.
Alicia called right after I woke up, excited because her father was taking her to IHOP for breakfast. Something they hadn’t done in years.
From everything she told me, things are going well, and I noticed she’s calling him Dad again, without hesitation.
I tap my phone screen. No new messages.
I sent Alexander a text first thing this morning wishing him a safe trip, but he hasn’t replied. I can’t remember if he ever told me what time his flight was.
Thinking about him, and how good it felt to have him here for a month, leaves me with a strange, uneasy feeling in my chest.
Not wanting to linger on it, I open my laptop and reach for my planner. When I flip it open, my eyes go straight to the list I made weeks ago, rereading each item.
Then I pick up a pen and add one more line:
Do more things simply because I want to, without overthinking.
I set the pen aside and throw myself into work.
About two hours later, without giving myself time to reconsider, I pick up my phone and tap the contact I need.
“Hi, did I wake you?”
A laugh slips out at the response. “I think I’m going to need your help.”