CHAPTER 20
It’s well past midnight when the car pulls up to Aurelio’s house. His family’s house. The white stone gleams in the moonlight, the small trees and shrubs in the front yard casting strange shadows. There’s a little birdbath near the front window and a stone path leading to the door.
“Grazie,” I tell the driver when he pulls my suitcase from the back. He nods and drives off into the darkness.
I walk slowly up the path, my suitcase rattling unevenly on the stones.
I managed to hop onto a very expensive, last-minute flight after begging the front desk person at the airport for several humiliating minutes.
When I landed in Rome about an hour ago, I considered calling Aurelio to pick me up, but I was already getting some attention from fans at the airport, and I figured we didn’t need double the amount when Italy's favorite athlete showed up with a black eye.
Plus, I worried he wouldn’t answer. That if I tried to reach out, he wouldn’t want to see me. That what he said post-Wimbledon feels different with an imprint of my father’s fist on his face.
I knock quietly on his front door. There’s not a sound from inside the house.
I can’t see a light on. I knock again, a little louder.
I wonder if his nona is inside, and I’m waking her from the rest she needs.
I thought it would be fine to come straight here because Aurelio said it’s mostly him and his father these days.
His nona lives with Aurelio’s brother and helps take care of Bianca since Bianca’s mother isn’t in the picture.
But what if she’s staying here instead after her stint in the hospital?
Worried, I turn back down the path and reach for my phone. I can call the car service and stay at a hotel for the night.
Abruptly, the door opens behind me. A sleepy voice asks, “Amy?”
I spin around, taking in Aurelio in the doorway.
He’s standing in just a pair of Nike shorts, moonlight hitting his freckled skin.
The door stays open behind him, one hand curled around the frame.
He’s in a state of confusion, squinting at me on the path.
“Hi,” I say weakly. “I didn’t mean to wake you. ”
It’s a ridiculous thing to say, because I did. I wanted to see him so badly that I couldn’t wait one more second.
“How did you get this address?” he asks, brow furrowed. It’s not exactly a friendly question, but it’s not exactly an accusation either.
I take a step towards the house. “Fernanda,” I explain. “She asked Francisco for it.”
He nods slowly, the sleep fading from his features. “But why are you here?” There’s an edge to Aurelio’s voice I’m not used to. “You haven’t been answering my calls.”
I wince. “I turned my phone off after Cincinnati.” I take a few more steps towards him. He doesn’t lean away, but watches me come closer, face half in the shadows. I take a deep breath. “How’s Nona doing? Vince said she’s out of the hospital?”
A little affection bleeds into his features, though he doesn’t uncross his arms. “She came home yesterday morning,” he confirms. “It was a bad case of pneumonia. They believe she’ll recover fully. My father was not lying about her condition, so I was here through it all.”
I sigh with relief. “That’s great news. I’m so happy for you and your family.”
There’s a brief pause, a twitch of discomfort.
Finally, he says, “My father apologized, again, for keeping me in the dark when my mother was sick.” I wait, holding my breath.
Aurelio releases his, and it sounds relieved.
“And this time, I forgave him, truly forgave him. You were right, Amy. All my family wants is for me to be happy, But I want all of us to be happy, and to do that, I must forgive him for his secrets. So, I did.”
“That’s wonderful, Aurelio.” My hands shake with the effort not to reach for him. “I’m proud of you.”
“And you?” His voice is still carefully neutral. “You fired your father?” Aurelio’s face gives me nothing, still lingering in the shadows. “I saw your post.”
This reminds me of that ill-fated date in Miami where Aurelio couldn’t see past Beck Bowman’s daughter. I have to tell him that I killed her, but I’m not sure what’s left behind in her place.
My trembling fingers push a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “Yes.” I look Aurelio in the eye. “Did you really think I would let him stay on after what he did to you?”
Aurelio leans fully into the moonlight, letting me see his face.
I try to hide my wince when I see the damage Beck inflicted.
There’s a purple shadow around Aurelio’s eye, blossoming into a sickly yellow around the edges.
“I don’t know,” he says hollowly, finally dropping his arms. “I really don’t know, Amy.
I wanted to believe you wouldn’t.” He struggles with his words more than usual, chewing on them.
I wait patiently for his judgement. I know I deserve it.
“It’s just...” He runs a hand through his curls, unruly from his pillow.
“I needed you, Amy. I really needed you this week, and you weren’t here.
It feels like at every opportunity, at every chance...
” His face creases, agonized. “I ask you to choose me, and you don’t. ”
The words fall like an anvil between us.
My bottom lip quivers, but I bite it savagely. “I thought I was choosing you,” I tell him, voice quiet in the darkness. “I thought I was doing what was best for you.”
Aurelio shakes his head in disbelief. “How could it be for the best, Amy?”
I gesture to myself. “I’m drowning, Aurelio.
I’m sinking under the anchor that was my father and his expectations.
And when it was just me being affected, that was one thing.
But in that hotel, in Cincinnati...” I let out a shaky breath, shoving down the memories, the sound of fist on flesh.
“I got rid of my anchor, I promise, but that weight was familiar. It was easy. Now, I don’t know what to do.
I felt like I couldn’t swim, and I didn’t want to drag you down with me.
” I take a deep breath, straightening my spine, lifting my chin.
“But I see now that it should be your choice. It was wrong of me to take that away.” I look into Aurelio’s face, smooth and expressionless.
I try to hide the tremble in my voice, but it comes out in my final question. “So, Aurelio, will you drown with me?”
There’s a pause as he regards me, staring down from the stoop of his house. His dark eyes seem hard out here. Finally, he gives me an answer. “No,” he says, “I won’t.”
The rejection bites, but I’m not unused to pain. In a way, it’s what I expected him to say.
I nod. “Right.” My voice feels far away. “Okay.” I start to turn back, heading towards my lonely suitcase and the road.
Aurelio catches my arm, hand around my elbow.
I look back up at him. “But I will pull you onto dry land.” He draws me towards him all at once, up onto the stoop, so we’re together.
My chest brushes his, the toes of my sneakers line up with his bare feet, my eyes are drawn to his face.
He drops my wrist and reaches for me. His gentle fingers trace down my cheekbone, my jaw, the corner of my mouth.
“Dry land?” I whisper. From this angle, the moon silhouettes him in light.
And then, a miracle happens. Aurelio smiles at me. “Dry land,” he agrees. He playfully crinkles his nose at me. “I think it’s time to get out of the water, don’t you?”
When he kisses me, it feels familiar because we’re both grinning like fools.
It’s nice to realize that the man you love always kisses with a smile on his face.
For a girl like Amy Bowman, it seems like a good omen.
I lean closer to him, pressing myself against his bare chest, shivering a little at his cool skin on mine.
His hands cup my face, as though I’m something precious, something sweet.
He smells like clean sheets and Rome. He feels like joy and finding home.
I wish time would stretch forever. I want to choose Aurelio over and over and over and over until we unravel into something infinite.
When we finally pull apart, I’m out of breath. “I saw your Wimbledon interview,” I tell Aurelio.
His hands freeze in their continued exploration of my face. “You did?” He watches me warily. “What did you think?”
I frown in mock confusion. “I had to do some research afterwards. I wanted to say things just right.”
Aurelio drops his hands from my face. I immediately miss his touch. “Research?” he repeats. “Didn’t you understand?”
“I understood.” I take his hands, holding them gently between us.
Aurelio’s gaze darts from our clasped hands and back to my face, alarmed.
I lean towards him, knowing I have one chance to say what I mean.
“The thing is, I wanted to make sure you understand.” There’s a moment, a brief hesitation where a small part of me wonders if the words will pass my lips.
I’ve never said them before, in any serious way.
When I look into Aurelio’s face, I’m sure he’d wait all day, all week, all month to hear them.
It’s why he deserves them sooner. I take a deep breath.
I smile at him, trying to infuse every small word with sincerity.
“Ti amo, Aurelio.” Once more in English, for good measure.
My eyes fill with tears, but I blink them back. “I love you, Aurelio.”
The words are quiet, but Aurelio’s response is loud.
“Amy,” he says, serious. He grips my hands tightly. “I love you, too.”
“Why?” I ask, urgent and low. The questions fly out of me. “What possible reason could you give for loving a mess like me?”
He shakes his head, disgusted. “I don’t need reasons, Amy. I feel it here.” He takes our joined hands and taps his chest, right over his heart.
My happiness feels fragile, like an overfilled water balloon. I always thought Beck loved me, but it was for all the obvious reasons. Every day it felt like I measured myself against those reasons, losing an inch to my father’s shadow.