Chapter 26 #3
He nods. He kisses my forehead, then the tip of my nose, and finally my lips. “Then tell me.”
I start to take off my coat, but he helps me. Then he removes his own and lays both neatly over the back of the armchair beside my desk.
I slip off my ballet flats and sit on the bed, calling him over.
Alexander sits beside me and takes my hand, lacing our fingers tightly as if he’s holding every part of me, keeping me from drifting away.
He waits, without pressure, without expectation.
I tell him everything. Starting with Colin’s affair and every detail he didn’t know.
And strangely enough, that part is the easiest. It doesn’t hurt the way it used to.
It feels like phantom pain that once consumed me, but no longer has any power over me.
Now it’s just a memory of hurt, rather than hurt itself.
But when I reach the part about how one of my father’s affairs, more than sixteen years ago, was the beginning of all of this... that’s when I break.
When I finish, I walk to the box Alexander gave me and pull out the essay Maya wrote. Not the Maya I knew. But the child who was pulled into all of this long before she had a choice.
I return to the bed, sit beside Alexander, and hand him the paper without explanation. While he reads in silence, every line replays inside me from memory, and I can’t stop the tears anymore.
Alexander stands, gently places the paper back inside the box, and returns to the bed. When he sits, he pulls me into his arms and lets me cry.
And I cry for what I hope is the last time. Releasing everything this has ever taken from me, freeing myself from all I’ve carried for far too long.
Alexander
I watch Cecilia sleeping peacefully beside me.
One of her hands is tucked beneath her cheek; the other rests over my chest. As if, even in sleep, some instinct inside her knows where to return. As if part of her will always seek me out.
Last night, when she finally calmed down, she asked if we could shower together. I went back to the car to grab one of the bags sitting in the trunk from my return from Pisa yesterday.
For the first time, there was nothing sexual about it. The water cascaded over our skin, and she simply stood there while I washed her hair, traced careful lines down her back, soothed her with touch alone.
It wasn’t desire or need. Just a woman drawing comfort from the care of the man who loves her.
When we were finally ready for bed, I pulled her into my arms. Cecilia was asleep within minutes. I kept stroking her hair long after her breathing evened out, waiting for the same peace to reach me. But it never did. I barely slept.
Everything she told me keeps replaying in my head. Over and over. I never thought I was capable of hatred.
I already hated that coglione for what he did to her, but now?
Now I’m well past that. I despise Colin and her father, and I’m just as disgusted with her mother.
I can’t stand the way she looked the other way just to keep her life easy.
She chose her own comfort over the truth, and that makes her just as much to blame as they are.
I don’t understand it. How people who lived beside Cecilia for years—people who were meant to protect her, cherish her, love her—could fail her like this. How they could look at someone so gentle, so loyal, so endlessly giving... and still choose themselves.
How does she remain the woman she is? How has she not let all of this twist her into someone unrecognizable?
She deserved better. She still does.
And as long as she is beside me, I will make damn sure she never has to carry any of this alone again.
I touch her face gently. She looks so fragile like this. So delicate. But I know the strength that lies beneath that delicacy. After yesterday, I am even more in awe of her.
I carefully rest her hand on the mattress and press a light kiss to her forehead, murmuring against her skin.
“Never again.”
Never again will I let anyone hurt her. I will die before I allow a single one of them to touch her with their ugliness.
Feeling the blood simmering in my veins, I decide to get up and make something for Cecilia. After a quick stop in the bathroom, I pull on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt before heading downstairs.
I know Alicia stayed at her father’s last night and will go straight to school from there, but I prefer not to take any chances.
When I reach the kitchen, I open the fridge and decide to make her favorite breakfast. Eggs, French toast topped with red berries, and strong black coffee, no sugar. Exactly the way she likes it. The way we both do.
Once everything is ready, I arrange it on a tray and head back upstairs.
Setting the tray on the desk, I look over at the canvas on the wall before I wake her.
I don’t even stop to think. I just grab a Sharpie and walk over. I take my time with it, making sure every letter is perfect.
“Why am I waking up to the sight of you vandalizing my canvas?” Cecilia’s sleepy voice murmurs behind me, just as I finish the last word.
I chuckle and turn toward her, smiling. I extend my hand. When she takes it, I gently pull her to her feet and guide her toward the canvas.
When we stop in front of it, her eyes trace the words I’ve written.
Sei il mio sole, la mia luna, e ogni stella del mio cielo.
I lean closer and whisper against her ear, and feel her shiver at the proximity. “I was just adding the finishing touch I didn’t give it that day, because I was afraid of scaring you.”
Cecilia leans further into me.
“You said that to me the first night we slept together,” she says, her tone fond with memory. “I didn’t understand it then. And I didn’t feel the need to ask. Your eyes told me everything I needed to know.”
She pauses, looking at the canvas. “But now I recognize what it means.”
“You are my sun, my moon, and every star in my sky,” she says, a smile laced into her voice.
She turns in my arms and kisses me.
“I’m going to the bathroom really quickly,” she murmurs, brushing her thumb over my hand, “before I eat the breakfast that woke me up with that incredible smell.”
We decide to have breakfast at her desk instead of in bed. I feel relieved when I see Cecilia finish her food; I know how deeply her emotions affect her appetite, how easily she neglects herself when everything becomes too much.
Afterward, she asks if we can go back to bed, admitting she isn’t ready to face the day just yet.
I strip down to my boxers. As soon as I lean against the pillows, Cecilia rests her head on my shoulder, our legs tangling. We lie there in silence, her hand tracing idle circles on my chest while my fingers drift along her arm.
“Do you still want to be with me?” she murmurs, a teasing lilt in the question. “Or have you already ordered the jet prepped to fly back to Pisa as soon as possible?”
I hook a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face gently until I can look into her eyes.
“Why would I do that?” I ask, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it from her.
“Now you know everything,” she says. “Colin. My parents. My father’s past, which seems to have more skeletons in the closet than I ever imagined.” She hesitates. “Any man who wanted to walk away from all this baggage... no one would blame him.”
I keep my expression serious, my hand cupping her cheek.
“A man with no character, perhaps,” I reply calmly. “A weak man. A man who didn’t love you the way I do. The way you deserve.”
I slide my hand to the nape of her neck and press a kiss to her forehead, letting my lips linger there. When I pull back and meet her gaze again, I speak from somewhere deep in my soul.
“If anything, what you told me yesterday only made me love you more.” My thumb brushes her cheek. “Being the woman you are, the woman you show me every day without even trying. Even after everything you’ve been through... I’m in awe of you. And I’m so damn grateful that you love me too.”
Tears slip from her eyes. I kiss them away without thinking.
“All I want,” I tell her, holding her gaze, “is to make sure none of this ever touches you again. That no one ever hurts you.”
My voice hardens. “If I had to destroy each of them or anyone
who poses a risk to you to make it happen, I would.”
More tears fall, and I kiss each one away.
“Ti amo, Alexander,” she whispers, cupping my face before pulling my mouth to hers.
I draw her flush against me, letting our bodies speak what no word in any language ever could.