Chapter 59
Daisy Peonia Mary Parker
Castello dell’Fiero, Calabria, Italy
The taxi stopped at the same moment my heart did.
Seeing the vineyard stripped of its leaves, bathed in the silvery light of winter, was like revisiting the past through a black-and-white picture.
When the car dropped me off at the end of the path, I squeezed my left hand, touching the peridot ring that still adorned it. It would stay there forever.
Luca had kept me informed. Fabiano, too. I knew Camillo was still as lonely as when I’d first met him, but what if everything had changed in the last few days? What if his heart had decided to forget me? Or what if he’d found someone else?
With my legs trembling, I started up the road.
No one was working the vines, likely due to the season, and the plots of land were now covered in low grass.
The silhouette of the house at the top, a beautiful shade of yellow, stole the breath from my lungs.
The sky hung heavy and overcast. The wind blew softly, a cool breeze testing the thickness of my denim jeans.
I wrapped my arms around myself, both to ward off the cold seeping through my pink wool sweater and to settle the fear turning my insides to water.
I took a deep breath.
I had nothing but my phone and my wallet. I hadn’t brought any clothes except for those I was wearing. I hadn’t wanted to bring anything with me. But now, I wondered how wise that had been.
What if he sent me away? What if I’d misread it all? What if everything we’d been through was nothing more than a trick of my mind?
Halfway up the path, my legs froze and my lips parted to the heavy rhythm of my heart. From there, I had a perfect view of the villa. The garden. The parked cars. The men talking amongst themselves. And him.
Camillo.
Standing among his soldati, with Luca by his side.
Unlike the man I remembered, his hair was a mess, whipping with every gust of wind. He was dressed in what looked like a dark blue wool sweater and black trousers.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
My heart felt like a landslide, and suddenly I felt as if I were facing a speeding train again, a gun, death itself. There was only one thing left to do.
Run.
Run up the path.
Run toward the villa.
Run into his arms.