Chapter 32
Maggie gets too distracted by the interior of the villa and exploring all the rooms and by the time we’re done taking in the architecture, it’s dinner time.
I read through the house manual, impressed by all the amenities they offer—housekeeping every other day, a private chef per request, and a heated pool.
“Rowan, did you see this?” Maggie says, pulling out a giant platter of charcuterie from the fridge. “There’s a note.”
I take the board from her and place it on the large kitchen island as she reads the note. “Please enjoy our finest selection of antipasto and pair it with the wine of your choosing. The cellar is located at the bottom level.”
“Do you want to pick a wine? I’ll take this outside for us,” I say.
The sun is just about to set, giving the view an orange and purple glow. I take two blankets from inside, grab the board and place it on the stone table in front of the patio couch.
Maggie comes out a minute later with a dry red wine that she already opened and two stemmed glasses. “Is it too soon to say I’m in love with this place?”
I chuckle and pat the couch spot next to me. She sits and I arrange a blanket over our legs and another around her bare shoulders.
“Thank you,” she says, a small blush on her cheeks. I lean in and kiss the spot, reveling in the fact that, for once, we’re not hiding away in one of our bedrooms or a hotel somewhere.
“Anything for you, Mags,” I say and pour us each a glass of wine.
We enjoy the spread from our hosts, moaning around each bite of local cheese and prosciutto and sipping on the wine until our glasses are empty.
“Did you try the grapes?” she asks, grabbing a small handful in her palm.
“Not yet.”
“They’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” she says, bringing one to my lips. I take it, grazing her finger with my teeth in the process.
Maggie’s reaction is immediate. Her blue eyes widen in pleasure and she leans in closer, her eyelashes fluttering over her cheeks. I give an exaggerated moan as I swallow the grape and she blushes again, narrowing her eyes at me.
Grinning, I pull her into my lap and capture her lips in a kiss.
We stay like that for what feels like an eternity, our lips moving together, our tongues exploring.
My hands roam up and down her back under the blanket, her hands tangle in my hair and I can’t think of a more perfect moment. Wine drunk and happy.
We open another bottle and finish it inside by the fireplace. Maggie changes into a gold silky nightgown that I’m absolutely obsessed with, and we end the night in a heap on the floor after I crawl my way to her, worshiping her body, wanting to tell her how much she means to me.
Once we get into bed, my body is buzzing with the aftershocks of pleasure and my brain is a little foggy from the wine, and maybe that’s what makes me confess in a soft voice, “I love you, Mags.” Her blue eyes are wide and glassy when she looks at me, only the moonlight illuminating her soft features.
I close my eyes and hold her tight, willing sleep to pull me under.
I’m crushed that she doesn’t say it back, but what did I expect? She’s never wanted a relationship.
The next morning, I find Maggie on the patio, the same blanket from last night wrapped tightly around her shoulders. There’s a mist over the valley and a chill that seeps into my bones as I approach her and take a seat next to her on the couch.
Her head rests on my shoulder and we stay like that for what feels like forever, until she pulls back and says, “Can we make a deal?”
I raise my eyebrows, lips twitching in amusement. As if I wouldn’t give her the world. As if I wouldn’t agree to anything she threw at me. “What is it?”
“You said the town is small and it’s unlikely people will know who we are. Can we just—be together while we’re here? Forget about the agreement for this week?” she asks, her hand squeezing my thigh.
My heart is all the way in my throat. This is exactly what I’ve wanted, what I’ve craved, ever since the beginning. “Mags, it’s never been about the agreement for me,” I say, waiting for a rebuttal.
Maggie closes her eyes and sighs. “I know. I’m working on it.
But just for this week, can we just say and do things as if—” She stops, chews on her lip.
I rub my thumb over the back of her thigh and she shivers again, and I’m guessing it’s not from the cold.
“As if we didn’t have the agreement?” she finishes.
I swallow hard. “Say and do anything?” If only she knew all the things I want to do and say to her.
“Yes,” she whispers, watching me closely.
I nod and she kisses me. A sweet peck on the lips. “I love you too, Rowan.”
Closing my eyes, I let out a long breath, feeling like a million pounds got lifted off my shoulders. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say those words,” I admit softly.
“Oh, Rowan.” Maggie’s lips are cold and gentle as she tentatively kisses my cheeks. I don’t realize I’m crying until she presses her mouth to mine and I taste the salty flavor. I hold her as tight to me as I can and her thumb presses hard into my jaw.
I laugh at the absurdity of it all and I hold her close, not wanting this moment to end. Not wanting to ever forget the words that I’ve needed to hear for nearly a decade.
We spend the rest of the week in pure, absolute bliss, venturing into the small town with yellow brick buildings and lots of charm.
Maggie laughs at me after we get yelled at by the locals for ordering lattes and are forced to drink the world’s strongest espresso.
I complain about the lack of delicious pastries back home when we eat the best pistachio croissants.
And all of it is worth it because I get to hold Maggie’s hand in public and feed her pasta and bread in the town’s only restaurant.
We almost get caught having sex in the pool by the housekeeper, but we quickly run into the nearest bedroom and lock the door, having sex in the shower instead.
When we try the pool again, at night, I lose myself in the feel of her—long legs around my shoulders, my waist, straddling me.
On our second to last night, we drive two hours into Switzerland and walk along the charming town of Lugano, renting a boat and sunbathing on the lake.
We get lost on the drive back into Italy and end up in a gorgeous town celebrating a food festival.
We dance, we eat, and we kiss under the stars, never wanting this trip to end.
Reality sets in the day we have to head back home.
“I wish we could stay,” Maggie says, tracing a heart over my chest with a fingernail.
I run a hand over her naked body, kissing the spot right over her heart. “Me too.”
“Things need to go back to normal,” she says and I begrudgingly nod. I want to argue that it doesn’t have to. That we can always be like this. But I’m too scared over the possibility of losing her to ask for more.
“I meant everything I said this week,” I say, lifting up on an elbow and looking down at her flushed face. “I love you, Maggie. More than anything.”
She smiles, but it’s a subdued version of the one she’s given me all week. “I love you too,” she says, lifting up and kissing me once before packing her suitcase.
The List
No kissing
No cuddling
No spending the night
No telling anyone
No hickeys
No PDA
No falling in love
No matching tattoos
No marriage talk
No pick-up lines