67
GAbrIELA DUARTE
The morning after the party, Sofia asked me to come to the library. She held a copy of Dario’s statement, which the lawyers had sent during our stay. I’d received one too but hadn’t yet been able to read it.
He’d admitted he never tried to deliver her letter.
Lorenzo had ordered him to return it and say I’d refused it.
Dario obeyed for fear of losing his job.
He also confirmed that he’d approached Paola to find out which letters were still leaving the Palazzo.
He couldn’t say where all of them had ended up.
“That envelope came back into my hands,” Sofia said. “I could have called. I could have asked Paola whether you really had refused it.”
I sat across from her.
“During the pregnancy, I asked for distance. Afterward, I waited for someone to want to know whether all three had been born.”
Sofia smoothed the paper with her palm.
“I should have contacted you. I don’t have a better answer.”
“Dario wasn’t the one who went five years without calling.”
“No.”
She held my gaze. For the first time on that visit, she offered me neither food nor work nor a room at the Palazzo. I asked her to leave me alone for a little while. Sofia gathered the papers and left slowly, leaning on her cane.
Later, I went into the side sitting room.
The table still stood by the window. It was where Luca had opened the folder five years earlier. There was a pale ring from a glass on the wood. I traced its edge with my thumb and heard footsteps behind me.
“You asked me to bring the drawing,” Luca said from the doorway.
I didn’t turn.
“I thought it would be worse.”
Luca stayed near the door.
“I can leave.”
“No.”
I rested my hands on the edge of the table.
“It was here. You were on the other side of the table.”
“I remember every second.”
“I brought a box. You barely looked at it.”
He lowered his eyes to the table.
“I remember.”
I wanted to tell him what had been in the box, though he already knew. I wanted to tell him about the walk to the garden, the wooden rose tucked inside the box, how careful I’d been not to crease the test result. I opened my mouth, and nothing came out.
Luca pulled out a chair. He didn’t sit; he left it beside me. I rested a hand on the back and waited for the dizziness to pass.
“I don’t want to leave yet,” I said.
“All right.”
Through the window, I heard a cart of dishes crossing the courtyard. The door was open. I could see part of the staircase the boys had come down that morning.
“For years, I thought I’d walk in here and know exactly what to say.”
Luca waited. I passed a hand over my face.
“I don’t.”
He looked at the envelope he carried. I’d asked him for the copy that morning, before speaking to Sofia; I hadn’t known whether I would dare open it here.
Luca laid the leather envelope on the table, away from the ring left by the glass.
“It’s here.”
Inside was the copy Luca had made of the house drawing. The folds had worn away parts of the lines: wide windows, trees, a pergola, and five unfinished figures near the door. My original was in Paraty. I touched the line beside the garden; he’d added it when I handed him the pencil.
“Your wall.”
“You told me to draw something.”
“So you walled in the garden.”
“It was a very low wall.”
I ran my fingers along the roofline.
I recognized the curve of the window I’d corrected twice. At the fold, a piece of the line was missing. I smoothed it with my thumb.
“I’m taking it with me.”
Luca nodded. I folded the drawing carefully and put it in the envelope.
Luca let out a breath.
“Who were the figures?”
“Just people to show the scale. Then I liked seeing them by the door.”
“Cris is missing.”
“He’ll want a guest room. With a good lock, according to him.”
He laughed.
“Six, then.”
My laugh came out louder than I expected. I set the envelope on the table.
“I don’t want to avoid this room anymore,” I said.
Luca stayed quiet. I held out my hand. He came around the table and stopped beside me.
“I said I wanted to try. It feels harder in here.”
He squeezed my fingers without smiling. I couldn’t smile either.
“Gabi…”
“Let me finish.”
Luca closed his mouth. I took a breath before continuing.
“But I don’t want to leave just because of that. I want to go out with you tomorrow, somewhere neither of us has to remember what we did in this house.”
“So do I.”
“And no enormous surprises to prove how happy you are.”
“May I bring flowers?”
“Yes. Without buying the florist afterward.”
“That limits my options considerably.”
I looked at our hands. I hadn’t noticed when I’d stopped shaking.
“And I’m going back to Paraty, Luca. You know that. My life is there.”
“Mine has been there too lately.”
He brushed his thumb over my fingers. My other hand was still resting on the table.
I pulled him by the shirt. Luca wrapped his arms around me, and I rested my forehead against his chest. I felt his breath catch before he held me tighter.
“Tomorrow, then?” he asked, close to my hair.
“Tomorrow. Dinner. A normal restaurant.”
“I’ll need you to define normal.”
I lifted my face to look at him.
“Somewhere that still lets other customers in after we’ve made a reservation.”
He laughed.
I rose onto my toes and kissed him. This time, I was the one who needed to lean on him.
Luca held my waist. The kiss began briefly, almost awkwardly, then lingered when I put my arms around his neck. The table’s edge pressed against my back; he drew me a step forward, and I went without letting go of his shirt.
When we drew apart, I could still hear the cart in the courtyard. I took the envelope and walked out with him through the open door.
“Seven?” he asked in the hallway.
“Seven. You don’t need to wait on the stairs from six.”
“You’re ruining my schedule,” he said.
The next morning, we told the children we were going out to dinner. I explained that Luca and I were dating. Heitor wanted to choose the restaurant. Camila asked whether her father would sleep in my room. Noah picked at his bread before asking what would happen if we fought.
“Sometimes we’ll argue,” I answered. “But we’ll still take care of you.”
He pulled off a piece of the soft center. Heitor asked about the restaurant again.
“Are we coming too?”
“Tomorrow we’ll all go,” Luca replied. “Tonight your mother’s going out with me.”