Chapter 4 April - Chiara & Vi
APRIL: CHIARA tail up, she waltzed out of the room, hissing at Aoife on the way.
“I think all things considered, you being the only woman to fall on your back for Vi is altogether a fair deal.” Aoife laughed as Chiara threw a ball of twine at her.
“Oh you! That was crass even for you!”
It wasn’t exactly true. As she rolled her eyes at her best friend, Chiara knew that at this very moment, quite a number of gorgeous women, most of them much, much younger than herself, were willing to show more than their bellies to Vi.
In fact, most did on the regular. Vi Courtenay was the hottest property in the entire city.
State and country too. Industry-wide. The elite photographer was sought after by every single publication, fashion house, and modeling agency.
There was nobody more renowned than her wife.
Hence all the women… And quite a few men.
“Now you’re just spinning a tale, my darling.
” Aoife took a few steps into the room and patted her awkwardly on the back.
“Our Vi is coming home soon. It has been a long month, and I hope she doesn’t leave ever again, cause you have been a bear to work with this entire time.
” When Chiara wanted to disagree, Aoife just waved her protests away.
“Bear, dragon. You name it. An angry Italian woman missing her wife? Is that better? Because you have been, let’s just say, difficult. ”
“Difficult? That’s my favorite kind of woman.
” The voice from the door, so beloved, so distinctive with its faint English accent, so dearly missed, made Chiara fumble the scissors in her hand.
As she and Aoife turned towards the sound, Chiara’s breath caught: her wife was a vision.
The dark blond short hair, the undercut, the sinewy tattooed arms and the goddamn suspenders.
“Okay, since you brought the heavy lesbian artillery, I am out of here.” Aoife’s exit was so swift that any other time Chiara would’ve been offended.
Except she really had been a bear, a dragon, and an Italian woman missing her wife.
She could not begrudge Aoife not wanting to be present for this particular reunion.
Chiara carefully set down the tools and turned to fully face Vi.
She was accustomed to being admired now.
To be desired for her looks alone. It still weighed on the muscular shoulders, but Vi was handling it better than the twenty-five-year-old intern who had fallen head over Converse at Chiara’s feet.
A trace of that shyness, or wholesomeness, was still there, in those eyes, and on that open, honest face.
Oh, how Chiara loved it. How she had missed it.
A few steps and they were in each other’s arms. Words were no longer needed. Chiara gave Vi the words anyway, the distance and time they had spent apart, a fresh bruise on her heart.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
Her voice trembled and Vi held her tightly, a sigh escaping, and as Chiara lifted her hands and pulled back to cup the beloved face, the sigh turned into a soft sob. A quiet one, and Chiara felt the bruise on her heart spread.
“Cara, what is it?”
Vi just shook her head, Chiara’s hands trembling on her cheeks. When tears followed the sob, Chiara’s heart all but broke.
“No, no, tell me. I’m here. Whatever it is, whatever has happened, we will face it together.”
Vi opened her eyes, tears clinging to the long lashes. Through the sadness, Chiara could see love. Affection. Tenderness. Yes, whatever ailed her wife, they’d face it together.
“I’ve been away for far too long. I never want to leave again…”
“Your job… Cara, you have the showing in London—”
Vi bit her lip and shook her head almost violently.
“Not without you. I don’t think I can do it without you, and Chiaroscuro needs you here.
I’ve seen Renate losing her mind trying to fit things into your schedule, and we both know with Allegra’s wedding having been declared the Wedding of the Century, Renate’s scheduling troubles will seem like child’s play in comparison. ”
Chiara traced her fingers along the sharp, chiseled cheekbones, wiping away errant tears. She understood their predicament. And Aoife was perfectly right about the bear/dragon/difficult Italian woman situation. She had been on edge for weeks.
“I can’t do without you,” Vi spoke the words, but Chiara could’ve been the one breathing them out.
“You know, if there is one thing that is pretty perfect about this entire situation, is that we feel the same. Can you imagine loving this way, missing this way, and being all alone in the misery of it?”
She tried to force the joke, and Vi obliged by smiling despite the heavy teardrops playing hide-and-seek among her lashes. Chiara pushed the joke further. Or maybe her insecurities did.
“Plus, it’s very good that you miss me. What with the sheer amounts of naked women you’ve been enduring this last month alone…”
She said it nonchalantly. Too nonchalant even for her own ears, and the note of falseness rang hollow in the silence of the room.
Vi narrowed her eyes.
“Chiara…”
“No, no, I’m just kidding. Merely an observation.”
She tried to extricate herself from the suddenly too restrictive arms, only for them to hold her tighter.
“I don’t think so. So it’s my turn to ask you what’s wrong.”
Vi reached her hand up and slowly lifted Chiara’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet. After a few seconds, Chiara exhaled loudly and stuck her lip out. Vi’s smile was infectious. Chiara pouted harder.
“Am I being foolish? Yes, I know, I am. I trust you fully, implicitly, with my life, with my heart, with my body. We are partners in everything. I just wish…”
Her voice betrayed her yet again, and Chiara burrowed her face in Vi’s shoulder.
“I wish… Sometimes I wish we’d met sooner. That we’d had more years together. That you were my first. My only. That my previous marriage hadn’t happened. That my life was just you. I am getting older, my love.”
It was Vi’s turn to cup Chiara’s face. Slowly, gently, she brought their lips together. Once, then again. And then deeper. Chiara nearly lost herself in the kiss, one that went on, like waves, like salve, like release from her doubts, from her insecurities.
“I’m not as young as I used to be, Cara.”
“You are the most beautiful woman in the world. And I am the luckiest because you are mine. My wife. My joy. My happiness. My succor.”
“Sweet-talker.”
Vi kissed her again, a quick nip this time, and then they simply stood in each other’s arms, enjoying the closeness.
In the distance, beyond the safety and coziness of Chiaroscuro, Mercer Street was filled with late afternoon buzz.
People milled around, hurrying home. Chiara lost her train of thought for a moment, only to be brought back by the steadiness of Vi’s voice.
“You came into my life without warning, the love that took everything and gave even more. The love that built and ruined. You broke my heart, and you brought me back. You saved me. Mostly from myself. And you did all that by being you.”
Chiara tsked, but Vi went on.
“Yes, by being exactly who you are. What life and pain and experience forged you to be. Would I have wished for less pain in your past? Of course. Would I have wished Frankie away? In a heartbeat. But since that’s impossible, I cherish you the way you are. Mine. My all. My everything.”
Now Chiara’s tears trembled on her lashes. Just before they fell, Vi changed the subject. She peered behind Chiara’s shoulder and motioned with her chin.
“So what is all this carpentry about? I heard you wielding the hammer on my way up.”
Chiara gasped and jumped out of the embrace.
“Madonna! My Goddess! I almost ruined my entire plan for this evening! Turn around, go out, and close the door. Then come back when I call you.”
Vi furrowed her brow.
“I have already seen the room.Why do I have to go out again?”
Chiara pointed to the door and tapped her foot. After a beat, Vi turned on her heel and left.
“I do so love it when you obey me, Cara.”