Chapter 51 Giovanna
Giovanna
My phone buzzes, interrupting me watching a Christmas movie curled up on my couch, a moment of downtime that is rare for me and only possible because everything is shut down for winter break.
And immediately ruined by my father’s text.
Fifty pieces of jewelry, every single one to a
different women in the past few months.
Do you see what kind of man he is, Giovanna?
The text comes with at least a dozen screenshots of all the headlines and pictures I’ve been seeing this year.
Tommy with a brunette hanging on his arm.
Tommy with a leggy blonde at a fundraiser.
A recent one with Tommy beside a diplomat’s daughter under the mistletoe, Christmas lights winking behind them.
Each headline cuts in its own way, knives sliding between my ribs:
Demonio and Latest Flame Sparkle at Holiday Gala
Demonio: Eligible Bachelor or Serial Heartbreaker?
Demonio Keeps Us Guessing—Who Will Be Next?
I close the phone without responding and close my eyes.
I get it: Tommy’s moved on. Even though he told me he would never let me go.
Even though he said that even if I left him, he would never leave me.
It’s Christmas in a few days, almost a whole year since I saw Tommy in person, when he lied to me about texting me every day, and we ended up in the media when I slapped him at the New Year’s Eve gala.
I haven’t seen or heard from him since. Antonio, meanwhile, has been around constantly.
He was probably the only one who was happy about the photos of me slapping Tommy, even though I left him at the gala.
My parents are encouraging me to stick with Antonio.
Compared to Tommy, Antonio is safe and steady.
But is that a good reason to go out with someone?
I call my mother, my chest tight. “Why do you like Antonio for me? And I don’t mean why do you like Antonio?
I mean specifically, why do you like him for me?
” I ask.
My mother considers the question.
“I think you’d do well with someone who is there for you consistently, who is on your level in terms of emotional intelligence.
He’s also a good fit for Luminous he changed. I don’t know if our break-up would have finally convinced him to make more time with me.
I guess I’ll never know.
“It sounds like you’re telling me to settle.
It’s not like there aren’t other men in the world.
It’s not an either/ or situation.”
My mom laughs her light laugh, and her voice gentles, but her words bruise.
“You learn to make peace with what you can have, to focus on what’s good and take comfort in the stability, the little kindnesses.
I was able to do that with your father.
Why cut Antonio loose and go out with strangers, when Antonio could be everything you need?
”
Everything except Tommy.
She continues.
“He is a good man, isn’t he? He’s good to you?
”
“Yes,” I whisper.
On paper, he shows up in all the ways Tommy never did.
Though I always turn him down when he asks me out, he’s been coming over almost every day since last Christmas.
He makes dinner, runs errands for me, fixes things around the condo.
He’ll even sit with me while I work on my thesis and study, and in the past few months, he’s started working out with me.
If nothing else, the man is the picture of patience.
I catch him looking at me sometimes, and occasionally he’ll lean forward just slightly, looking at my mouth like he’s going to kiss me, but I always move away, deflect, change the subject.
He not only lets me take space when I need it, he keeps showing up, making me laugh, taking care of me.
If Tommy is the only man I love and there’s no way we can be together thanks to Aurelio’s ultimatum, then why not choose the man who is so careful with my heart?
“I think you know what you should do here, cara mia.”
After I hang up with my mother, as if we manifested him, Antonio walks in my front door with his arms full of groceries like he lives here.
I realize with a start that he practically does.
“Hey,” I say. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
He grins and holds up onions and garlic.
“I’m making that sauce you like for dinner tonight and thought you’d want some.
Plus, I need a sous chef. Come help me.”
He uncorks a bottle of wine as I move to the kitchen island and Antonio pushes a cutting board with a knife and onion on it.
“Sous chef has to cut the onions,” he says, and I laugh and get started, as he continues to pull groceries out of the bags.
Tomatoes, fresh basil, tomato paste.
“So,” he says, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
“I was thinking about Christmas.”
“What about it?” I don’t know why I’m suddenly very nervous, but I keep my eyes on the cutting board, chopping.
“I was thinking maybe we could spend it together on purpose this year. You know, make dinner, watch some cheesy Christmas movies in our pajamas.”
I can’t look at him.
I stay focused on the chopping, tears springing to my eyes.
I can’t tell if they’re caused by the onions or not.
“That could be fun,” I say haltingly.
A huffed breath of relief comes from him and he’s suddenly behind me, his hard muscular chest against my back.
He breathes me in, then moves my hair aside and grazes his lips over my neck.
“I’d really like to wake up next to you on Christmas Day.
”
I stiffen, almost stop breathing, and set the knife down carefully.
“Antonio, what’s happening right now?”
Antonio murmurs against my neck: “I’m here every night.
I fall asleep on your couch, I leave clothes here, we spend every day together.
Why aren’t we calling this what it is?”
“What do you think this is?” My voice shakes, and I keep my eyes closed as he drags his hands down my sides to my hips then slowly traces around to my stomach.
I haven’t been touched like this in so long, my body involuntarily jerks, sensitive to his touch.
When he pulls me back into his arms, his warm chest against my back, his erection jutting into my ass, I imagine that it’s Tommy holding me, Tommy whispering in my ear.
“We’re together, Giovanna. Neither of us dating other people.
Everyone wants us to be together. It’s time we make it official.
”
“Who’s everyone?”
“You know who. Your father, my boss. I think your mother likes me for you, too. I want it, Gigi. You do, too, even though you don’t want to admit it.
You know we’re going to end up together.
” He kisses the back of my neck, and I whimper as he sinks his teeth in.
“You play your cards right and you could be Mrs. Abbiati one day.”