Chapter 31
THIRD-AND-LONG: THIRD DOWN WITH MANY YARDS TO GAIN.
Being in Italy has been incredible. At first, it was just to find the space between my personal life and professional.
I found so much more.
I’m fierce. Strong. Desirable.
I’m me.
I pause after captioning a selfie Troy sent me of the two of us lying tangled together in bed yesterday morning before we dragged ourselves begrudgingly out of our cocoon of blankets—him to make coffee, me to follow him while grunting unintelligible sounds until forced to chug the first vat of life saving nectar.
It’s become our routine, and that scares me as much as it comforts me.
Sitting back at the desk in my room, I think about how much has changed in four weeks. If I were sticking to my original timeline, I’d be packing for my flight back to the States. Instead, I’m wondering if the golden shade of the chestnut trees is going to be more pronounced today.
When I first arrived, there was no way I’d have thought a friend would become the man I can’t imagine tomorrow without. There’s no way I could have expected that Troy, who I considered a friend of my ex, would take up such a prominent place in my mind. My heart.
A month ago, I would easily have dismissed the idea of feelings growing between us.
I’d have lied to myself and pushed forward, deluding myself that it was the Italian ambiance pulling me into its allure—a combination of cool days and warm nights at the villa.
I easily could have brushed aside my emotions as romantic for being around the scent of the rich earth, the sweetness that never leaves the air, and grounding myself under the Piedmont sun.
But I’d be leaving out one crucial element.
Troy.
We balance.
We make sense.
It thrills me even as it scares me senseless because there’s more than this previously dormant spark of passion that’s been unleashed. If it were just sex, we’d have been mature enough to act on our attraction without it impacting our underlying friendship.
But we’re more…so much more.
Our routines click. Our lives fall together seamlessly. It’s just…easy.
Sometimes, we talk about nothing. Sometimes, about everything—books, family, the things we’ve done, the things we’d do again, and the ones we’ve yet to try.
But it’s the silence between those words that tells me more than the words themselves.
I don’t feel the need to fill them with idle chatter—to be constantly “on” the way I have to with more than a select few.
Silence is just another way for us to communicate contentment with one another. It doesn’t weigh down on me or make me feel like I need to perform. It just is. Silence gives me time to think, to consider.
It’s also given me time to realize this is what my heart’s been searching for—a place to land softly. A haven. A home.
It might just be because this is new, but with Troy, we haven’t hit upon a topic yet we’ve put off limits. Wryly, I think that might be because the worst of what’s happened has been spread around the world and archived in perpetuity.
But there are pieces of us we share that I know aren’t available for public consumption.
Troy has shared with me not only the public history about how his ancestors cultivated the first vines here, but the burden that weighs on him every season the harvest comes in.
How he traded in a football uniform and play memorization for studying soil erosion and probability of precipitation.
In exchange, I share with him things I’ve told no one else about my work—including how a camera can be treated like a window or a weapon depending on where you are in the world.
Thinking back, I recall lying in his arms in front of a roaring fire a few days ago.
Curiosity softens his voice when he asks, “So, how does a small-town girl end up taking world-renowned photographs?”
I snuggle my head back against him. “Truthfully?”
“Of course.”
“It started out because my dad is our town’s middle-school shop teacher. My mom runs the front office at the high school. I’ve always had a passion for learning.”
“How’s your relationship with them?” His fingers comb through my hair.
I give it some thought before replying. “They’re proud of me, but I think they…expected something different.”
“Like what?”
“That’d I’d follow in their footsteps.” I hesitate before sitting up.
He frowns. “What is it?”
“This time is supposed to be about us, and I’m…uncertain how much you already know. Or how much you want to know about my past…relationship.”
“Well, I sure as shit don’t want to know if he’s a better kisser than I am,” Troy says immediately.
I snicker. “Yeah. There’s zero chance of that.”
“Then I think we both need to accept that there’s going to be times when our past is going to need to be discussed.”
I nod, accepting his words as truth. “It’s not like you weren’t around for my engagement to Bryce.”
“Just as I imagine, there are things you’re likely going to face about mine as well. We’ve both had high-profile pasts, Maya. Things are going to come up.”
I try not to let my lip curl when I recall the last woman Troy dated—a Victoria's Secret runway model. I obviously do a shit job because he bursts into laughter. “What’s that look for?”
“I can’t compete with a woman who struts down a catwalk in a diamond bra and panties wearing wings.”
He tugs me forward so I flop down hard on his chest. “First, you don’t have to compete with anyone. You…” His voice trails off.
“I, what?”
“Captivate me.” He tucks his fingers beneath my chin so he can lift my lips up to his. His lips brush against mine before murmuring against them. “I will also admit to feeling more than a little nauseous when I hear about your history with Bryce.”
“Why? You—and the whole world—saw how that ended?”
His lips twist wryly. “Let’s just say women flock to quarterbacks.”
My lips thin. “I found that out.”
He clears his throat. “Right. So, for a woman to switch her allegiance to a former special teams guy—someone who was only important for a few seconds every game—will be a little shocking. I mean, I used to be the guy who spent half the game stretching his hamstring.”
Settling back against his chest, I let out a deep breath, realizing he needs some reassurance as well. “Well, then this will make you feel better.”
His fingers dive back into my curls, resuming their effortless motion. “What’s that?”
Twisting around to face him, I tug his head down to mine. “Your body can move in ways his never could. I know he could never get his leg quite at that angle…”
Later under the blanket, after Troy pulled off the sofa and rewarded me for my performance evaluation, he resumed our conversation from earlier. His questions centered mostly on my parents. “So, you’re close with your girls and your parents?”
“That’s the sum of my people.”
He lifts my hand to his, nibbling on the tips of my fingers. “You’re expanding it.”
I roll onto my back and smile up at him. As the flames of the fire sink lower, the dimming light turns his skin to a burnished gold. “To be honest, I’m kind of an introvert.”
“How often do you get a chance to see them?”
“As often as I can between assignments.”
His eyes darken. “Speaking of assignments, remind me to spank your ass later.”
Indignant, I struggle to sit up. “What for?”
“Jumping out of a plane with a million pounds of camera equipment?”
Haughtily, I inform him, “I’ll have you know, I’m actually certified to jump with a camera.”
He presses his forehead against mine. “I shouldn’t have assumed you’d have been reckless, but I wish there was some way for me to explain what went through my mind.”
I settle back against his chest where there’s nothing between us. Savoring the feel of his thundering heart, I relish the way my hand feels as it skates over his skin. Even now, it races through him. Fear. Instead of making him weak, his sharing this side of him makes me feel cherished.
Moving us past that, Troy presses a kiss to the crown of my head. “How did you get started with photography?”
“My grandmother gave me my first camera—an old Kodak Brownie Hawkeye.”
“Do you still have it?”
“In my bag in my room. She encouraged me to see everything I could while I had the chance. When she died, it was one of the specific provisions in her will.”
“Is it worth a great deal of money?”
“No, it’s purely sentimental. It was something my grandfather bought for her, so she didn’t want to part with it, but it was what gave me my love of photography.
” Tears prick my eyes as I share that. I know Bryce never asked these questions, and he was at my grandmother’s funeral—mainly posing for photos.
“She wanted to ensure it went to someone who would appreciate it.”
Something shifts in Troy’s expression — softer, more thoughtful. “Sounds like it’s a genuine treasure.”
“It is. It’s like she knew who I was destined to become long before I did.” I weigh my next words. “My grandmother used to tell my parents I wasn’t supposed to stay in our small town. I think they thought she was prophesying about my relationship with Bryce, not my career choice.”
He brushes his lips across mine. “And now? What’s on Maya Cox’s horizon?”
I roll him over and stare down into his face and give him the truth. “I don’t know.”
“Still planning on traveling the world?” He gives me a small, crooked smile, which sends my heart racing.
“Maybe. Maybe I’d like to have someone by my side when I do,” I duck my head as the admission falls from my lips.
He tugs at the back of my hair. Our eyes collide. “Count me in.”
Thinking back, his words don’t scare me the way I think they should. They settle next to my heart somewhere between the laughter and quiet foundation we’ve been building. They give me a pathway toward something steadier.
Him.
And maybe, just maybe, if I’m brave enough, us.