Chapter 15
“ M atteo de Palma… che cazzo stai facendo ?” Her voice is a whisper, the meaning clear even if the words are not. Giuliana looks confused and heartbroken.
“You promised to trust me,” I remind her, and she takes a deep breath, raising her shaking left hand to her lips. Silence stretches between us and my heart twists in my chest in fear and anticipation.
“Yes.” It’s a little breathless and it takes me a second to realize she’s not just acknowledging what I said. Her hand outstretched and waiting, I fumble with getting the ring out of the box. The velvet square clatters to the ground as I slip the slightly-too-big ring onto her finger.
“You’re going to explain everything to me.” It’s a command, not a request, and all I can do is nod. Stomach knotted into something unrecognizable at the sight of the ring on her finger, I surge to my feet without thinking.
Pulling her into my arms, I spin us both in a circle. Despite the fact that she knows something untoward is happening, Giuliana elicits a squeal of laughter. We slow to a dizzying stop and with her soft body pressed up against my chest I can’t hold back. Dipping my head down to kiss her, I lean in to sample the intoxication of her.
“Oh my god! That was so beautiful!” Kelsey and her bridal party emerge from the trees—excited and ecstatic.
Seriously? Two more seconds and we would have been kissing. Talk about shit timing. A bridesmaid shoves two flutes of prosecco toward us and I throw mine back. Giuliana’s gaze flits between me and Kelsey—confusion clearing into some kind of understanding. I’ll have to explain the miscommunication and my lies. For now, Giuliana’s accepted that the proposal is part of what got us here.
“ Grazie ,” she says, taking a heavy swig of the shimmering liquid.
Some of the bridal party fawn over the ring. When no one is watching Giuliana worries the white gold band with her thumb. Twisting it to and fro on her finger, the stone catches on the golden hues of the sun’s last bit of splendor.
“Thank you for all the fuss, but please, don’t stop your photo session on our account. I insist!” I say, hoping they’ll catch the hint and let us leave. Threading my hand with Giuliana’s, we make a grateful exit.
The ring band is cold where we touch and silence looms between us as we walk back toward the revelry of cocktail hour. Kelsey’s spread the good news somehow because wedding guests come over to congratulate us. Thank fuck most of them are Italian. The last thing I need is another person recognizing me.
“I’m so excited we were able to make it happen for you! Your fiancé told me how badly you wanted to see the grove and how he had very special plans for this weekend that couldn’t wait.” Francesca gushes to Giuliana, my lies unfolding.
I’m on my fourth glass of prosecco—the bubbles doing funny things to my nose—when Giuliana reaches her limit. Tugging me up some side steps to a private balcony, we stand watch over the party. Once we reach the top she drops my hand, her indulgence for my lies at an end.
“Matteo.”
“Yes?”
“What did you do?”
Night wraps us in her embrace. The strings of lights illuminating the dance floor below don’t reach up to this area. Our balcony is a small alcove overlooking the grounds. Music pulses under my feet. The breeze carries the sound of rambunctious partygoers laughing and dancing. It’s the closest I’ve gotten to the New York vibe since getting here and despite my panic attack earlier I’d been enjoying myself.
Giuliana waits, tension thick between us.
“It got out of hand,” I blurt.
She scoffs, the air huffing from her nose emphasizing my massive understatement.
“You’ve made a liar out of me and I resent that. Forcing my hand like that and pulling me into your pretense… It feels wrong, especially after my father, and Umberto—” she breaks off. I remember what she told me about her father lying about being sick, and hiding the loan. Then there’s Umberto and his hidden intentions. The comparison is apt and I feel like hot trash.
But there’s no time for me to wallow because she’s talking again. “I’m not like them. I don’t want to be. So how dare you?” she accuses before hissing, “ Engaged ?”
“Francesca said the villa was closed because of a wedding. It got stuck in my head and an engagement was the only thing I could think of to keep us here despite the private event. Francesca got super excited about it and I got sucked in. When I went down to ask about dinner the bride was there. Francesca filled her in on my fake plans, only she didn’t know they were fake.” I lean against the stone terrace, my back turned to the party below.
“But a ring? One that looks and feels very real?” She has her hand between us, examining the proof of my harebrained scheme, and all I can think is how well the ring suits her.
“When I went to town.”
“For God’s sake. What were you thinking? Where did you even get the money for this? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m not here because I’m hurting for money. This plan was stupid and impulsive but I wanted to take care of this for you, to save the situation. I’m not used to being the one to step in and fix things. Back home I’m a fucking joke but here…”
I don’t finish the sentence—I can’t. Because I’m a joke here, too.
“It got out of hand. As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew they were a mistake. I know you’re too honorable to go along with the lies. But I stuck my foot in it. It felt like you depended on me to make this work and then Francesca and Kelsey expected this wonderful proposal—rightfully because that’s what I sold them—and I panicked.”
“It was wonderful, but you can’t go around proposing to your boss .” It’s hard to make out her expression in the dark but there’s sadness there, regret.
Maybe that’s just me.
“Yeah well, maybe I kind of fucking hate the fact that you’re my boss.” I need to leave before I say too much.
Rushing past her, my arm brushes against hers as I start down the stairs.
“ Teo , you can’t say something like that and leave.” Her voice follows me down the steps.
Slightly wobbling, I stick my hand out and trace my palm against stone walls as I stumble down each step. Prosecco on an empty stomach was such a rookie move. When did my feet get so heavy? Halfway down my brain catches up. Her nickname for me pierces the haze.
Twisting to face her, I drink in her expression—the concern and vulnerability there.
I open my mouth to ask her to say it again so I can watch the word leave her lips. But as usual drunken mistake is an ethos I live up to.
My shoes slip against the floor as I’m sucked backwards, the earth calling me down. Giuliana’s expression shifts to one of fear, that hand with the ring outstretched toward me but it’s too late. Gravity wins.
A sick thud, a faint scream, and then darkness settles around me like an old friend.
I ce is painful when you think about it. It pierces. I’ve heard freezing to death is a peaceful experience, but that’s a fucking lie. The back of my head is wet and freezing. I blink up into the light of a chandelier and the second sensation I’m aware of is Giuliana’s shaking hands surveying my body.
“ Teo … Please. Wake up.” Her voice sounds different than I’ve heard it before, shaky and scared.
“ Lia ,” I groan, pain filtering in through the haze. And then her hand cups my cheek, the warm pad of her thumb stroking to soothe.
“Francesca went to find help. One of the guests is a doctor. For now, I just need you to stay awake, okay?” Her voice is gentle, kind and caring as it wraps around me. I want nothing more than to have her keep talking while I slip back under.
“I’ll try. I’m assuming I fell down the rest of the stairs?”
Fucking idiot.
“Yes, but it doesn’t look like anything is broken. I’m more concerned about your head.”
Her words filter through and I realize the wet cold is an ice pack against the back of my skull.
“Ow… Could have been worse.”
“How?”
“Could have been all the stairs,” I joke, and she gives a little laugh and a shake of her head that tells me she thinks I’m totally ridiculous. But beneath it there’s a softness and I wonder if I heard her call me “Teo” or if it was my own deluded fantasy from my drunkenness and the bump on my head. I’ll likely never know. Even if she did slip and give me a nickname, Giuliana will probably want to pretend it never happened.
Francesca, and a small group of people filter into the bottom of the stairway. The supposed doctor kneels beside me, a phone flashlight shone into my eyes. He asks me to follow the movement of his finger and then probes around the giant goose egg on the back of my skull.
He presses against parts of my body to assess my pain and within a few minutes he’s deemed me okay to try and sit up.
“There’s no bleeding, no broken bones. You might have some muscle soreness, especially on your back, and your head is definitely going to hurt for a while. It doesn’t appear too serious but given that you’ve been drinking and we can’t rule out a concussion, you’ll have to be observed tonight.”
“No, no hospitals.” The last thing I need is to have to deal with that on top of everything else.
“The hospital is quite far and we’ve all been drinking. It might be best to stay here if you have someone to look after you tonight.”
I’ve never had anyone to care for me overnight, not unless you count the nannies my parents paid for. My mom was a hotshot model, my dad a mogul. Neither had time for a sick or scared child. Before I can protest, admit that I don’t have a person, Giuliana speaks up.
“He’s my fiancé, I’ll take care of him tonight. You just tell me what I need to do.”
Her statement does something funny to my insides, leaving them warm and gooey. Despite the fact that I should decline—should definitely not infringe on her whole evening when I know she’s mad at me—I don’t.
“First thing is getting some food and water in him. Then you’ll have to try and keep him awake for a bit. After that he can sleep for short periods of time but you’ll have to wake him up sporadically to check for any issues. If he starts throwing up at any point, especially if there’s clear liquid or blood coming from his nose, you call for an ambulance immediately .”
It does me no good to remind them that I might throw up anyway because I’ve been drinking. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.
“I’ll send some food up to the room,” Francesca promises.
The doctor helps me to my feet and I only flounder a little before I’m able to right myself. Giuliana wraps her arm around my waist, propping herself under my arm to help with my balance. Once I find my feet her touch is gone.
When we walk up the stairs to our room this time there is no hand holding, no pretend affection. I change into pajamas in the bathroom and Giuliana does the same when I’m done.
Shortly after, Francesca sends a tray of food up for each of us and I might die from how good it smells. Italy never ceases to astound me with its beauty and its food . The antipasto is a plate with summer melon wrapped in prosciutto and burrata cheese adorning it. The taste dances on my tongue like I’m the rat in that scene from Ratatouille . By the time I get through the primo piatto of pasta orecchiette, I feel halfway human. The pasta are these tiny bowls perfect for holding the delicious tomato-based sauce.
Giuliana makes me drink water and I hate to admit it’s definitely helping with the swooshy feeling. The meal is quiet except for the clank of cutlery against plates, and when we’re done eating, she carries the trays down without a word. When she gets back, Giuliana gives me some Tylenol she obtained downstairs. I throw it back and chase it with a heavy swig of water.
Tucking myself into bed, I stifle a groan. Pain sinks into my muscles and the buzz of alcohol fades. All I want is to escape into sleep. What a fucking mess of a day.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Giuliana asks from the doorway, her hand poised over the light switch.
“I’ll be fine. It’s not my first drunken tumble and it probably won’t be the last.”
Her lips thin into an unhappy line and she gives a terse nod before turning off the lights. Sheets and blankets swish on her side of the room as she slips into her own bed. The darkness is too intimate and although we’re not sharing a bed I hear her breathing—every shuffle against the covers. It’s obvious that she’s uncomfortable, if her tossing and turning is any indication.
“Giuliana…”
“You can’t say stuff like that and then fall down a flight of stairs.” Her voice is tight. The words are sharp as if she’s throwing them in my direction like daggers.
“It was only half a flight of stairs.”
She huffs.
“But, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I dragged you into this and forced a lie between us. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d come up with a better excuse—one where I wouldn’t get to enjoy the little bit of time I got with you. Even if it was only pretending.”
Silence stretches for too long and I wonder if she’s gone to sleep.
“It’s not… I—” She struggles before sighing. “I’m not keeping my distance for nothing or because I’m being difficult. My livelihood depends on this. As much as I want this to be real… as much as I want you , I can’t afford it right now.”
It shoots through me like electricity and she’s the live wire. Although I understand she’s letting me down easy and reiterating again why this can’t work, all my stupid brain focuses on is she wants this.
She wants me.
“All I was trying to do was help, as misguided as it was. Abundantia is lucky to have you and I’m not going to stand in the way of that.” In more ways than one. “How can I help? What do you need?”
Fabric rustles against fabric again and she turns to face me.
“I have all these ideas and I’m terrified to implement them. Convincing my Nonna of the volunteer program was difficult and that’s the tamest idea of all of them. Part of me thinks she’d rather I just let the grove go. She doesn’t even know why we’re here. When I called her earlier, I told her you wanted to go sightseeing and I felt it was my duty as your host.”
I chuckle at knowing no matter how old we are we still lie to our parents like we’re teenagers. Although Giuliana still has to live with her elder, so I can’t complain.
“I know about the B&B idea since that’s why we’re here but what else? What is your big dream for the farm?”
“Obviously I want the farm to succeed but more than that…” She takes a deep, steadying breath. “ I want to succeed. The grove was never supposed to be mine. It was meant for the son my father never had and although he tried to pretend otherwise, we both knew it. I mentioned a few of the workers quit after he died and I took over. They left me . It wasn’t just Umberto’s influence.” My stomach sinks as I mull it over. I wish I could take away the hurt in her voice.
The covers are cool against my skin and the mattress dips around my body, cradling my sore muscles. I open my mouth to speak, to apologize but she barrels on before I can.
“I tended to him for years—running the grove and trying to care for Chiara. That’s why Nonna moved back in with us. She has a house in Gravina that she lived in before—the one where we—anyway, she ran a shop where she sold the olive oil we made, among other things. When my father got too sick to work, she gave it all up.”
I never considered what that might have looked like, what sacrifices the family had to make to keep their world spinning right side up. Just what did Giuliana have to sacrifice?
“And you? What did you have to give up?”
The air buzzes around us. It’s as if I can feel her considering whether or not she should say. She keeps quiet and I probe her again, a soft plea wrapped around her name. One breath passes. Two. Until she finally speaks.
“Time. Relationships. University. I was supposed to go to study agriculture. I love the land. It’s all I’ve ever wanted and I thought if I could prove myself… If I could show I’m as worthy as any of the men in that course I could earn their respect. But then Papa got sick, and I inherited it by default. When I stepped up and started running the farm myself, Umberto resented me for it. Our relationship shriveled and now only those who stayed respect me. I live with knowing I was a disappointment to my father until the end.”
Her words clang around my mind, echoes of those I’ve had in the past when it came to myself and my father.
“I understand.” Now it’s my turn to sigh and gather my courage.
“My father died last year and he was this bigshot businessman. The expectation is that I’m supposed to take over the company. He pushed me toward a business degree, I got a writing degree instead. He ignored me to focus on work and everything I’ve done my whole adult life has been to spite him. My existence was nothing but a source of shame to my father when he was alive and I have little to show for myself now.”
My heart constricts. My ribcage is too large for the tiny stone of pain I’ve repressed and compacted all year.
“I came here to prove I was worthy of something, capable of more. But he’s not around to see it and I’m not sure he’d care or approve.”
“What a mess, huh? The pair of us.”
We both chuckle, pain lancing through the mirth. God, if I could only be beside her right now so I could pull her into my arms. As soon as we leave here it’ll be back to business.
“Tell me more about your dream for the grove. You’ve mentioned it but I love hearing how excited you get about it.”
“You know a lot of it already. A teaching program, a kickstarter for small female-owned farms and businesses.” She says it so quietly I can barely hear it but when I do it makes sense. Giuliana wants to provide what she was deprived of: resources, respect, and a chance to forge something independent of the men who came before.
“Female farming girlboss.” It sounds stupid as soon as I say it but she laughs, a light bell-like sound. The way it makes me feel curls around my stomach like a snake—traitorous and too slippery to catch.
“It won’t bring in much money. That’s why I’m trying to find a way to make the grove a success first. No point in me attempting to teach people when I can’t even do it myself, but that would be the goal. To provide an opportunity for people like me and young girls like Chiara. Not that I think she has an interest but I want to give her the option.”
“It makes sense, and I think it’s a wonderful idea. You could change someone’s life with a program like that. I’ll do anything in my power to help you see it through, I promise.”
“It’s not your problem, Matteo. You’re only here for another month or so at the most. There’s no obligation or pressure.”
She doesn’t need you. You have nothing of merit to provide. You’ll only get in the way.
I shove it all aside. This isn’t the time.
“Maybe I want there to be. Maybe if I had my way I’d stay. But I understand and I won’t push. Please know I’m here for you, okay? No strings. Just a friend who cares.”
“I appreciate it, and what you tried to do tonight, as idiotic as it was. You have a kind heart and I’m glad to call you a friend.”
I let the words wash over me. It’s the closest I’ll get to feeling good about myself and feeling okay about my lie. Body aching in more ways than one, at this point even holding her hand in the dark would be exquisite. But we’ve made it clear we’re just friends. I’m kicking myself for not kissing her quick enough this evening. Fucking Kelsey.
There might never be a chance again. One month and I lose it all. I have one month to help her get stuff set up before Alan or Umberto step in. I can only hope it will be enough. Sleep swallows me and pulls me another day closer to my life as I know it changing forever.