Chapter 26
GIANNA
My family and probably everyone I’d ever known would call what I did on that beach, swimming in that pool of melted moonlight, the ultimate betrayal. I kissed the enemy. Made love to him willingly.
But I loved every moment of it and every moment of the next seven days that followed. There has been no shortage of love and affection, no end to the nights of pleasant love making and wild passion, no end to days of doing anything and everything under the sun.
We even spend a whole day and night just watching all my favorite movies in the TV room upstairs. Turns out a lot of my favorites are his too. And he wasn’t just saying that, he could recite too many of the lines for it to just be a lie.
He’s spent more time with me this past week than with his army planning the war. Much more. And today he’s going to teach me to surf.
I’m in the kitchen with Maria who has packed us a lunch—a wicker picnic basket filled to the brim with sandwiches, fruit, cakes, and drinks.
Matteo is in a meeting he couldn’t get out of and as the minutes pass, I’m getting more and more worried that maybe this is the day when he stops being able to make time for me. The day that war of his finally starts.
I’ve been worried about the war more and more now that I’ve decided to just let him show me all the freedom I’d been missing my whole life.
“What’s this curse Matteo keeps talking about. The family curse of ruin, or whatever,” I ask Maria before even deciding to say it.
I was hoping she’d laugh in my face, telling me it’s just an old superstition and nothing to worry about. Instead, she shakes, and looks at me over her shoulder, her eyes very wide and very full of fear.
“He told you about that?” she asks breathlessly and turns all the way towards me, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Only about a hundred times,” I say and laugh, as though I can still make a joke of it. Even though I’ve never seen Maria look this serious.
She always has a soft smile on her face. Now she looks as angry as she did when we raided the kitchen in the middle of our movie marathon and ate half of the special cake that it had taken her two days to make. Now she only makes us cakes that take an hour, two tops to bake, to teach us a lesson.
She shakes her head and makes the sign of the cross over her chest. “They never liked to talk about the curse. None of them. Only mentioned it in whispers and behind closed doors with only the family present. It’s real.
And I pray every morning that it doesn’t strike that day.
Matteo is the last male of his family left.
If he dies it’s all over, the line is finished, the family ruined for good. ”
I feel like she’d plunged that big knife she uses to chop garlic straight into my chest. And when I pull it out, I’ll bleed to death.
Matteo comes in just then, smiling wide. But it disappears off his face as he gets a good look at the two of us.
“Who died?” he asks, chuckling.
You.
I almost say that, but instead I rally, pick up the picnic basket, which is almost too heavy for me to lift, and force a very wide smile. As his own smile returns to his face and the faking becomes much easier.
“Are you ready? Can we go?” I ask. “I’m dying to get on a board.”
There’s that word again. Shakes me to the core that I chose to use it. Especially since it’s a total lie. I’m scared to go surfing. I’m barely an adequate swimmer as I proved the day he had to give me the kiss of life.
But that’s just it.
He can always give me the kiss of life. Always will.
As long as he lives.
The smile fades from his face again as he looks at me and Maria, who is clutching the crucifix hanging around her neck.
“You two are acting very weird,” he says and takes the basket from me. “But let’s go, this might be the last day I can get away for a while.”
I slam into that invisible wall that stands between me and the life of my dreams with considerable force. I know that wall from my old life. I thought I’d finally broken through it when I accepted my new life with Matteo. Only to find it as strong and immovable as ever this morning.
But no.
I had broken through. Now I just have to run as fast and as far away from it as I can.
And I do actually have to run to catch up with Matteo, who is already loading surfboards into the back of an open-back jeep when I meet him in the garage.
He showed me all of those boards a couple of nights ago, when he decided I need to try surfing.
He waxed them all, while telling long, detailed stories about his surfing days.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy.
Except maybe when I lay on him kissing him gently.
Kissing all the pretty tattoos covered by all the symbols of death on his chest, his arms, his back.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Never been readier,” I say and climb in the passenger side of the jeep. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”
He laughs and joins me in the car. “You’re not going to change your mind.”
And he’s right. I’ll never change my mind about him again. I will love him until the day that I die. Even if he goes decades before me.
The wind in my hair as we’re riding down the road to the beach is perfectly warm, but still colder than any I’ve ever felt.
But if I ignore it, if I scoot over to him, lean against his shoulder and wrap my arm around his taut, muscular stomach then everything is exactly as it has to be. Exactly perfect.
He’s here, he’s strong and in his prime, and he’s mine. And whatever else happens, today will forever live in my memory. So I’ll make it a happy one.