Chapter 10 #2
I'm quiet for a long moment, trying to find the words.
"She's not like anyone I've ever met. When I'm with her, I feel—" I stop, frustrated. "I feel. That’s the whole thing, Giulia. Everything else I’ve ever wanted has been because it served me somehow—it made me more in some way. Or it gave me pleasure. It was all wholly selfish. I’ve never felt anything other than that raw id, that desire to have because I could. But with her… I feel… something. Like maybe I could be a little bit better for her. Not change entirely… just… a little bit.”
Giulia looks at me, startled at first, and then her expression softens. She’s never been afraid of me. She’s always known that if there was anyone in this world that I cared for, it was her. But she also knows I’ve never felt love for anyone else, and definitely never romantic love.
"I don't know what I am. I just know I can't stop thinking about her. I can't stop wanting to be near her. I can't stop—" I run a hand through my hair. "I'm losing control, Giulia. And I don't know how to stop it."
“You could just let yourself feel it. See what happens, even if it doesn’t turn out how you want.”
I can feel my teeth grinding together. "I don't know how to do that."
"I know." She reaches across the table, taking my hand.
"But Romeo, listen to me. If you really love her—if this is real and not just obsession—then you have to let her choose.
You can't force this. You can't manipulate her into being with you.
You have to give her the freedom to decide what she wants. "
"And if she chooses him?" Just the thought makes me feel sick.
"Then you have to let her go."
The thought is physically painful. Let her go. Let her marry Whitmore. Let her be trapped in a life that will slowly destroy her. "I can't do that."
"You have to. Because if you force this, if you manipulate her into leaving him, she'll never really be yours. She'll always wonder if she made the right choice. She'll always resent you for taking away her agency."
"He's embezzling from her father's company," I say abruptly. "Whitmore. He's stealing hundreds of thousands of dollars. He has gambling debts to dangerous people. He's planning to move up the wedding timeline because he's desperate for her family's money."
Giulia's eyes widen. "Does she know?"
"Not yet."
"Are you going to tell her?"
"I don't know. If I do, it destroys both families. The scandal would be massive. Her father's business, her family's reputation—everything would be ruined."
"But if you don't tell her, she marries a man who's using her. Who might hurt her."
"Exactly."
Giulia is quiet for a long moment. "What do you want, Romeo?"
"I want her safe. I want her happy. I want—" I stop, the truth catching in my throat. "I want her to choose me. Not because I manipulated her into it. Not because I destroyed her other options. But because she wants me. Because she loves me."
"Then that's what you have to give her. The choice. The freedom to decide."
"And if she chooses wrong?"
"Then you have to trust that she knows what's best for herself. Even if you disagree."
I shake my head. "I can't do that. I can't just stand by and watch her marry someone who's going to hurt her."
"You can tell her the truth about Whitmore. You can give her the information she needs to make an informed decision. But then you have to step back. You have to let her decide."
"That's not—"
"Romeo." Her voice is sharp now. "Listen to yourself. You're talking about controlling her life, making decisions for her, deciding what's best for her. That's exactly what Whitmore does. That's exactly what you say you're trying to save her from."
The words hit me like a slap. "I'm nothing like him."
"Aren't you? You're both trying to control her. You're both convinced you know what's best for her. The only difference is you think your intentions are better."
"My intentions are better. I want her to be happy. He just wants her money."
"Maybe. But you're still trying to control her.
You're still not giving her the freedom to choose her own life." She says it with a hint of bitterness, and I wonder if she feels the same way. I know she doesn’t have very many choices, either. Our father will choose someone for her to marry, sooner or later. Her place in this family is as fixed as mine, as Savannah’s is meant to be in hers.
It makes something in me ache that never has before, thinking of it.
I want to argue. I want to tell her she's wrong, that she doesn't understand, that this is different. But I can't. Because somewhere deep down, I know she's right.
"I don't know how to do this," I say quietly. "I don't know how to love someone without trying to possess them."
“All you can do is try, and hope she still wants you even if you fuck it up.” She reaches over to squeeze my hand.
She's right. If I can't give Savannah the freedom to choose, if I can't trust her to make her own decisions, if I can't love her without trying to control her—then I don't deserve her. But the thought of losing her is unbearable.
I don’t know if I can do this. I’m going to fuck it up. I know I am. Just the thought of her marrying him makes me feel panicked in a way I’ve never experienced, and that I’m desperate to stop.
Our food arrives, and we eat in silence for a while. "Tell me about her," Giulia says eventually. "What's she like?"
I can’t help but smile at that. "She's brilliant. She's doing her master's in archaeology, specializing in Minoan civilization. When she talks about her research, her whole face lights up. She's passionate and curious, and she asks questions that make me think differently about everything."
“All this seminar stuff makes sense now,” Giulia says with a laugh. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. She sounds worth all the extra classwork.”
"She is. She's also kind. And funny. And she sees the world in this way that's—" I struggle for the words. "She believes in things. In truth, in the importance of uncovering what's been hidden. She has this idealism that I've never had. She’s so innocent, and it’s frightening to me, knowing how the world is… but she’s not stupid or helpless. She’s just… not jaded."
Giulia swallows hard, and I see worry in her eyes, for me. “You really do love her.”
The word terrifies me. Love. Real love, not just obsession or possession or desire. Love means putting someone else first, giving them freedom, being vulnerable.
I don’t know what love is, not like that. And I’m going to be bad at it.
I just know I am. Bad for her, even, in a different way from Thaddeus.
But I feel like I’m on a runaway train that I can’t stop.
I leave the restaurant feeling unsettled. Giulia's words keep echoing in my head. If you really love her, you have to let her choose. You can't force this.
But how do I do that? How do I step back when every instinct I have is screaming at me to act, to intervene, to make sure she's safe? How do I give her freedom when I know she's in danger?
I find myself walking toward campus without consciously deciding to. It's late—almost nine—but I know Savannah sometimes studies in the library on Friday nights, that she likes how quiet it is when most students are out.
I shouldn't go. I should give her space. I should do what Giulia said and let her make her own choices. But I need to see her. Just to know she's okay. Just to—
I'm lying to myself. I need to see her because I'm addicted to her presence. Because being near her is the only thing that makes sense anymore.
The library is mostly empty when I arrive. There are a few dedicated students scattered throughout the building, but nothing like the usual crowds. I take the stairs to the section where I know she likes to work.
And there she is.
She's sitting at a table by the window, surrounded by books and papers, her laptop open in front of her.
Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and she's wearing glasses I've never seen before—small, wire-rimmed ones that make her look even more like the serious academic she is.
I never realized it, but she must have worn contacts before this.
She's beautiful.
I stand in the shadows of the stacks, just watching her.
She's completely absorbed in her work, making notes in the margins of a book, occasionally typing something on her laptop.
Every so often, she pushes her glasses up her nose in a gesture that's so unconsciously adorable it makes my chest ache.
This is what Giulia was talking about. This feeling. This overwhelming need to protect her, to be near her, to make her happy. But also this terror. This fear that I'm not capable of loving her the way she deserves. That I'll hurt her. That I'll become just another man trying to control her life.
I think about what Luca told me. About Whitmore's embezzling, his gambling debts, his plan to move up the wedding. About the danger she's in. I should tell her. I should give her the information and let her decide what to do with it.
For the first time in my life, I genuinely don't know what to do. I can’t stay away from her. I can’t let him have her. I can’t destroy her life, and I can’t have her when her life is intact.
Savannah looks up suddenly, as if sensing my presence. Her eyes scan the stacks, and for a moment, I think she sees me. But then she looks back down at her work, and I realize she was just stretching, taking a break.
I should leave. I should go home and figure out what I'm going to do.
But I can't move. I'm rooted to the spot, watching her, memorizing every detail.
The way she bites her lip when she's concentrating.
The way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
The way she smiles slightly when she finds something interesting in her reading.
And I know that Giulia might be right.
For the first time in my life, I might be in love.