Chapter 22
T ime, like reality, is cruel and comes swiftly. The harvest arrives in a few breaths and I soak it all in. Soak her in. God, she’s beautiful. Giuliana moves with a grace that comes with familiarity and confidence. This is where she belongs and that refrain echoes over and over as I watch her work through the culmination of all our effort. The farm workers have stashed away their baskets for the day, their haul ready to be sorted and shipped to the mill for processing, but still she carries on.
Although, “workaholic” isn’t what I see when I watch her. I know what that looks like, having lived with that my whole childhood. Giuliana cares . She keeps going to honor her father. Her hands are calloused, same as her employees. Even now, she has a smudge of dirt on her forehead where she tried to wipe sweat away and only succeeded in getting dust tacked onto her face.
The early evening light reflects in her brilliant eyes as she prattles on and I take a long, heady breath. The first cold fingers of autumn tint the air. The breeze is thick with the smell of the earth we’ve walked all over for the last two days. Olive fruit that hasn’t made the cut litters the bases of the trees and the distant sounds of revelry pierce the night.
Nonna helped by delegating in the kitchen today—smacking more than a few hands when their culinary skills weren’t up to snuff or they tried to sneak food too early. I think I even heard an English cussword thrown in once or twice and it warms the fucked-up cockles of my traitorous heart.
Chiara chased down the rows, chattering with everyone as we worked—a flash of tanned skin and bare feet in my periphery. Too excited to be still but too fickle to be a real nuisance—she hung around me and Giuliana the most.
Italy… Abundantia specifically has grown on me, to the point where I’m surprised I’m not covered in vines already, like the old farmhouse is.
And Giuliana…
She’s a punch to the gut every time I look at her.
Feeling my gaze, she looks up at me. She’s noticed my attention is only partly focused on what she’s saying as we walk, carrying the last few things we need for the party.
“It’s been a long day. I’m boring you.” Giuliana shrugs like it doesn’t bother her. But I’ve been watching her for weeks, scavenging for the parts of her that she doesn’t like to share.
“Not at all, I’m just tired.”
“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings.”
Oh, but darling I do and I have no other choice.
“It’s not a lie. It’s the furthest thing. You light up when you talk about this and I can see how much it means to you. I’ve watched you work yourself into exhaustion and then get back up the next morning as if it was nothing. You are astounding.” I want to say so much more.
But the words don’t come.
Won’t come.
Not when I know how cruel it would be to cut the wound even deeper. She will never forgive me. Giuliana lives her life without guile—genuine. I’ve lied to her for weeks for my own gain. Best I tuck tail and leave, slink back to New York and nurse my wounds in private. Even though I’ve surrendered my delusions of grandeur into her perfect, work-hardened hands it doesn’t matter.
Giuliana doesn’t need to know I’m devastated, ruined completely, with every moment in her presence.
I don’t realize that we’ve trekked up the hill to the massive old tree that started it all until Giuliana comes to a stop. Pressing her palm against the bark, she strokes her thumb over it with reverence.
“I’m so tired.” Her voice breaks, shoulders rounding in as if finally bowing under an invisible weight.
“Lia—”
“I love this. I do. How could I not?” She interrupts, gesturing around us to the grove stretching out below.
“My father put everything he had into this: blood, sweat, tears. Cliche, but true. And he didn’t want to leave it to me, but he wanted to keep it in the family. I was the last resort, and then he was dying, so I became the only option.”
The light fades from her eyes.
Setting down the basket in my grip, I step up toward her and cup her shoulders in my hands.
Stop. Don’t do this. Don’t touch her. You’re leaving.
You’re leaving.
It’s a warning for once, not a beratement—one I should heed.
The pink sunset glistens in the tears on her lashes and I can do nothing but lose myself in her pain. I have grief, sure. But mostly I have anger.
Giuliana carries so much more.
“I loved him, so much!” she bites out, wiping her tears away in frustration. “He was all I had after my mother died and all I ever wanted was to make him proud.”
My hand lifts of its own volition, stealing the tears from her cheeks.
“He’s proud, cara , you know he is.”
She snot-laughs at my attempt at the Italian endearment, though I know I’m getting better at rolling my r’s. Still, it has the desired effect. It breaks through the sadness that pulls at her features and makes my heart ache.
“You and your damn nicknames.” Shaking her head, Giuliana doesn’t wait for my response before carrying on.
“This first harvest without him went beautifully, and it feels wrong.” Her voice is small, even quieter once she tucks her face into the crook of my neck. Gripping my shirt in her hands, she whispers. “I miss him.”
Cradling the back of her head with my hand, I hold Giuliana while she sobs out her grief. The day blazing to an end around us sets her rich brown hair alight with gold. When her sobs calm to little hitches in her breathing she finally looks up at me.
“I’m sorry,” we both say, followed by a chuckle.
“What are you sorry for?”
“I wish I could take away some of the pain. I wish things were different.”
Because she’s hurting. Though mostly I don’t, because if any of this was different, I never would have met her.
She gives me a rueful smile, because we both know that no matter how much we want something, it doesn’t change the way things are. It doesn’t lessen our grief, and it doesn’t excuse my deception. With that thought I step away, trying to put distance between us again and respect the space she wants. Despite my numerous indiscretions the past few weeks, the least I can do is try to preserve the professional relationship she insisted on.
“Matteo?”
“Yes.”
“The harvest is over.” It means something.
I know it means something. But I can’t put my finger on it when she’s lit up by the magic hour and all I can think about is how I long to kiss away the taste of salt on her lips.
“Yes?”
Stepping closer, her vulnerability from earlier bleeds into something else—something raw.
“The harvest is over and so you don’t have to be here anymore.”
Of course. Of course, she’s sending me away.
Just as well. It could have been so much worse.
At least this way we will part on good terms and I won’t have to pretend anymore. I can wallow in my feelings back in the States. I almost thought “back home” but that’s not true anymore. Giuliana showed me that home is more than a place, it’s people. And reality can only be postponed for so long.
“I—I’ll be packed and ready to go first thing in the morning.”
Anxiety ramps up my heartbeat at the prospect of our parting, but I’m out of time.
“No.” Firm.
“No?” I ask, confused, frustrated. Just let me go, damn it.
“I’m not telling you to leave, I’m telling you there is no longer an obligation to stay.”
She’s so close I can reach out and touch her.
“Well, what the hell is the difference?”
“Matteo, why must you be so difficult about this? Are you really going to make me spell it out for you?” Part of me wants her to, because I’m not sure where she’s going with this and I’m scared to hope.
The other part just wants to be a little shit.
“We both know you’re the smart one, so if you wouldn’t mind…”
“As of the last olive pulled from those trees, you are no longer my employee, volunteer… whatever. And that means?—”
This is real. That means…
“—we finally get to do this,” I finish, surging toward her and gathering her up into my kiss.
Giuliana’s hands are in my hair, tugging me down toward her and threading between the strands as if she doesn’t want to let go.
It’s exquisite. It’s agony. It’s such an enormously fucking bad idea and I don’t care at all. Because I’ve waited weeks for this moment. Every ache-filled day watching her from afar, all those little brushes of skin driving me to a frenzy. Each night burning for her and unable to drag her over the edge with me as I touched myself. They bleed into this kiss and she moans against my lips.
Forcing myself to pull away, I try to do the right thing.
“Are you sure about this? Summer is over. I don’t want you to regret it again.”
I don’t want you to regret me .
“What?”
Her beautiful face folds into concerned lines and knitted brows, her mouth pulling down at the corners.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because of what happened last time. I know you regret our night in Gravina,” I say. Her reaction that first day made it abundantly clear.
“Matteo, I was terrified. What happened that night in town shook me, and you left me. I know we didn’t make any promises but when I woke alone, I thought you were the one who regretted it. So, when I saw you here and I realized that you came for the grove, not for me… I was embarrassed. Besides, I had to maintain some semblance of professionalism.”
“I—I didn’t know until I got here. You scared me too. You frightened the life out of me and I ran away like a coward. I figured that if working here with you was the only way I was going to get to be around you, then I'd be okay with it being strictly professional. You drew the line in the sand, I was just respecting that—most of the time.”
“God, we’re idiots.” Her mirthless chuckle kicks up something inside me—a dark curl of desire I’ve tried to keep smothered for her sake.
“Giuliana, you have to know that I’ve wanted you, this whole time. I’ve worked alongside you. I’ve yearned for you, every day .”
Our foreheads resting on each other, we spill our secrets onto the earth we’ve worked together all summer.
“I longed to walk down that hall and open the door. I wanted to go to you so many times.” Her words settle deep within the burning hunger of my need for her.
“I dreamed about you,” I rasp. “Thought about you and that night in Gravina so many times. That night at the villa, I drowned in every breath you took on the other side of the room. I would have crawled to you if you’d asked.”
It didn’t matter that I’d been concussed, I’d have done it. The space between us disappears. Holding her face in my hands, I tease the pad of my thumb along her bottom lip.
“ God , I’ve ached for you.” My confession is whispered against the seam of her lips, waiting.
This time she comes to me, rising just high enough onto her toes for our mouths to meet. It’s as if we’ve both been parched, left out in the sun without relief and this kiss is a thunderstorm. Giuliana fills my lungs with her scent of sweet blossoms, summer, and the earth. Hands roaming over my body, it’s as if she’s been just as starved of my touch as I’ve been of hers, and is eager to reacquaint herself with my planes and angles.
I respond to her kiss in kind, my fingertips trailing along the sun-heated skin of her arms and neck, down her back. I try to content myself with the parts I can reach but it’s not enough. Kissing her will not be enough.
She seems to agree, pulling away from me, panting. Giuliana wastes no time going over to the discarded basket and pulls out the oversized picnic blanket rolled up there, the one intended for the celebration. It will no doubt see a more decadent feast here than over at the big house.
Blanket grasped at the corners, shaken out and laid carefully in place, Giuliana shucks her shoes. Following closely with her breezy overalls, then her thin t-shirt and underwear, and through it all I stare in awe.
Night approaches fast, but the silhouette of her naked body against the scorched sky will follow me into my dreams—branded onto my memory.
“Your turn,” she says, standing there in all her glory, a goddess to be worshiped.
And worship I will.
Ridding myself of my clothing, I’m strangely liberated. We’re out in the open but far enough from the party, in the opposite direction of the celebration. This moment exists only for us.
It’s primal, intrinsic. Standing beside the old tree I can almost believe we’ve been swept to a time long past. Planted in a moment where we weren’t rivals, and there are no secrets… and we’re untouched by the history between us.
We meet on the blanket, tangled limbs and heated mouths. Sampling and testing, we enjoy what we’ve been denied for so long. I trace my fingertips over every lush curve and dip of her body, relishing the feel of goosebumps raising on her skin. Her nipples harden from my touch and the cool breeze that night ushers in.
Intertwined, I clutch her to me and taste her like this will be the last time, because it may well be. Cupping her generous breasts in my hands I kiss down the side of her neck, over her chest and flick my tongue over one of her nipples. Giuliana moans and it’s like daylight through my veins. Marking my way down her body, worshipping as I said I would, I try to express the depth of my feeling for her through every touch of my mouth to her body.
Caught between her thick thighs, I sample her and the sound of her cursing my name will haunt my dreams for many nights to come. Her hands clutch at my hair, scrunching the curls in her fingers as I push her closer to the edge. Pants and hitches, moans and curses, I drive Giuliana to her first peak with pleasure. I will give her this. Tonight is hers.
She tugs me up by the hair and I crawl up over her body, helpless. And when she reaches down to touch my hardness I hiss in a breath, cursing myself for not thinking to slip a condom into my pocket. But we’ve been a little preoccupied with the renovation and the harvest, and the fact that I never imagined I’d be blessed with this again. So, when she urges me onto my back and moves to straddle me, I still her by gripping her hips.
“No condom,” I manage between gritted teeth, wanting nothing more than for her to move down a few inches and envelop me.
“I’m safe.”
“I got tested and I’m safe too, but…”
“I’m on birth control.”
It’s all she needs to say. Skating my hands up to rest against her ribcage, I cup one of her perfect breasts in my palm, tweaking my thumb over her nipple.
Settling herself against me, Giuliana gasps at the contact. She sinks inch by fucking painstaking inch and I swear my chest is going to burst. Her heat grips me and it’s too much and not enough to slake my thirst. I will never drink my fill of her.
Tracing my touch up the ridges of her back, I stroke her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear so that I can trail my fingertips over that devastating face. Expressive eyes, filled with more than I can fathom, stare down at me and we breathe it in. Summer’s final breaths, the sunset, the rich smell of earth, and something that is wholly her.
Tilting her hips, Giuliana tests the friction, and I suck in a desperate breath. There’s no going back from this. There will never be any going back. She’s changed me.
Giuliana’s stuck her calloused little hand into my chest and rearranged it all so slightly I hardly noticed until it was too late. It’s like the way you learn to navigate your space—to the point where you can walk it in the dark—but then the couch gets moved two inches and suddenly you’re lost and aching from an unexpected collision. I reach out for her to steady myself. To guide myself home.
Because that’s what she is to me. Her skin is soft under my hands and I drown in her quiet gasps as we move together. I lose myself in the best thing I’ve ever savored, the essence of life and love and happiness.
Even if there’s never a single moment with her again it will have been worth it .
For once I agree with the voice in my head. In the years to come this will be the memory I cling to. The last light of the day kisses the edges of her hair and brandishes her skin in a warm glow.
Giuliana angles her hips to take me deeper and thought flees my mind, replaced with a keen ache in my chest with the knowledge that this is goodbye. Then I’m lost in the uncoiling low in my abdomen and the exquisite pleasure we take in each other.
Settling her onto her back, I lean over her to stare down at the little freckles on the tip of her nose and her kiss-swollen lips that would tempt a dead man back to life. She’s already done that—pulled me from my half-existence into her brilliant daylight. Giuliana is stronger than any spirit I’ve imbibed, softer than any goodnight.
Surging within her, I relish the feel of her legs wrapped around me to keep me close. Grunts and whines are swallowed in kisses I wish would never end. Cries increase in intensity as she gets closer, her body undulating beneath me.
“Tell me what you need, beautiful. Tell me how to take you there,” I whisper into her hair before burning a trail of kisses down her neck.
“Don’t stop, Teo. Don’t stop, please. Just keep touching me. Never stop touching me.”
Fuck, I wish I could. I wish I could praise her beneath the stars every night, bathe in her divinity until she burns me alive with her light.
“Anything for you. Anything .”
Even though it means letting go.
I’m not sure if she can sense the desperation rising in me but she meets me thrust for thrust, our bodies entwined and breaths mingling. Giuliana falls apart beneath me with a primal cry loosed into the night. Following soon after, I breathe her in, shaking with fear and love and need.
This will never be enough. But I wouldn’t trade it. Not for all the money or land in the world.
“I miss you.” It comes out broken, already aching for her. I’ll miss you.
“I’m right here,” she soothes, pushing my curls away from my face, so much longer than I’ve ever let them grow.
“Yes,” I say, at a loss, unable to express how no amount of time with her will ever suffice. It doesn’t matter that I’m still inside of her, with my essence buried within her body, and the beat of her heart thrumming against my skin. I will never get enough of her.
“We should probably head back before Chiara or Nonna come looking,” she giggles, tickling my cheek.
“Heaven forbid,” I choke out, pulling away with reluctance.
Morning will come, and with it, finality. I can’t lie to her anymore and there’s nowhere to hide. Giuliana’s made it clear how she feels about liars and deception. She won’t forgive me. But I know it’s what I need to do. I don’t deserve forgiveness anyway.
We dress in silence. Twining our hands together, we head down the hill to the brightly-lit party. Every step brings us closer to laughter and music, string lights and family. Before we climb the stairs up to the house, I lift her hand to my lips and press a kiss to the back. I stroke my thumb over it as if I can imprint it there out of wishful thinking alone.
“Can we keep this as our own, for tonight? I don’t want to let go of the haze… the moonlight on your skin.” It’s a plea, a way to delay the inevitable.
Isabella will know though. I can only hope she’ll comfort whatever hurt I leave behind, coax anger to replace it. Better she hates me. Better that than her pain.
“Of course, but one day soon I’m going to walk down the hall and finally knock, and you’re going to answer.”
I chuckle through the lump in my throat at the picture, the impossibility.
“Deal.”
She walks up ahead of me and I give her a few minutes head start, to douse suspicion of course. Not because I’m breathless at the feel of my heart breaking.