Chapter 41
Xavier
We slept like the dead last night, having walked God knows how many miles. We covered the Doge’s Palace after St Mark’s, and I had the particular pleasure of watching my extraordinary woman rejoicing at every detail. Every flourish. Neck cramp aside, it was a great success.
This morning, after lazy lovemaking and an epic cooked breakfast, we set off again.
We explored the local area on foot before stopping for coffee and pastries in the café of Palazzo Franchetti at the foot of the Accademia Bridge.
From there, we crossed the bridge, salivating over the view across the Grand Canal, and wandered down labyrinthine streets filled with shops selling oil paintings and chocolates and Murano glassware.
I bought Ivy a lovely little oil of La Salute—a memento I hope will bring her happiness when she looks at it.
And, finally, we reached our destination: the Scuola Grande di San Rocco, home to Tintoretto’s most abundant outpouring.
When I led her up the stairs from the admittedly bleak lower salon and she saw the Renaissance splendour of the upper salon, my little artist had exactly the reaction I was hoping for: she wept tears of wonder at the endlessly frescoed and gilded ceilings, at the impossible scale of talent here, at the sheer majesty of it.
I’d like to think that this short trip has touched something in her creative heart.
Inspired her. Fed that part of her soul that persists with dreaming, no matter how uninspired her daily life is.
I hope she’ll carry that spark with her long after I’m gone.
The danger with a short trip to a city like Venice is that you go into full box-ticking mode.
You try to cram in every major destination you can.
So this afternoon’s gondola ride was enforced downtime: the opportunity to sit back with Ivy in my arms and simply soak up the millions of fleeting, perfect views from the myriad canals.
As darkness fell, so did the fog, blanketing the city in its ominous shroud.
Our gondolier had a lantern swinging from his prow, adding another layer of gothic drama.
Ivy snuggled into me under our furry throw as we crisscrossed quietly down the canals, their inky, impenetrable water turning opalescent under our cameras’ flashes.
Dinner at a cosy and decidedly cheery trattoria allowed us to shrug off those lingering gothic vibes of decay and mystery.
Now we lie on our sides in this grand bed, noses almost touching, legs entangled.
While we have most of tomorrow to continue our sightseeing before we fly home, that other most gothic of emotions still lingers between us:
Loss.
This is our last night here, in a city so removed from the everyday that it may as well be Oz.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Ivy says hesitantly, her slim fingertips brushing over my shoulder. ‘It’s awful, and I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but—’
‘But what?’ I press gently.
‘Well, I’m wondering if we should call it a day after this weekend. As in, we get home, and that’s it.’
The physical pain that hits me right in the chest takes me by surprise. I stare at her in horror.
‘Don’t look at me like that. We both know what this is.
You’re getting married in eighteen days, and we’ve got Christmas before that.
Even if we do keep seeing each other, there’s nothing left except for a few rushed hookups.
And I think we’re better than that.’ Her beautiful, pale blue eyes are shining with unshed tears.
They beseech me as she dances her fingers up to stroke my teeth. ‘We’re out of time, babe.’
I tug her more closely against me. The skin of her back is so impossibly soft. ‘I’m not ready to let you go.’
She smiles through her tears, and I’ve never seen anything lovelier.
‘Me neither. But spoiler: we’ll never be ready.
It’ll only get worse. And’—she sniffs—‘this weekend is the first time I haven’t felt like your dirty little secret.
It’s not your fault, but it’s true. And I think it would be…
nice if we went out in a blaze of glory. ’
I blow out a breath. She doesn’t need to remind me that I’m getting married in eighteen days.
‘I’ll never stop being grateful that we had this.
And I’m so unbelievably sorry that I can’t offer you anything more.
’ She shakes her head, but I press on. ‘I’ve never felt more devastated or resentful about my duty than I have these past couple of months.
Since I met you, I’ve felt like—like I’ve been handed a life sentence but I’ve been allowed out on bail for a few weeks.
And now the bail period is coming to an end, and when I think about next year, I…
’ I trail off, battling for composure. It’s critical that Ivy knows how I’m feeling, that I leave her in no doubt as to my reluctance to take this path I’m supposed to follow.
To drink from the poisoned chalice that calls itself duty.
‘I just see darkness,’ I continue. ‘The total, unending bleakness… of a life without you.’
We stare at each other and I try desperately to commit every last detail of her to memory.
‘I know I don’t have the right to say this,’ I say, ‘because I can’t back it up with any sort of actions that actually count, but I love you. I’m completely in love with you, and it would feel like a miracle if it didn’t hurt so much.’
Her lips part in shock and the tears fall, cascading over the bridge of her nose and across her cheek towards the pillow.
‘But I want you to know how much it hurts,’ I tell her. ‘I don’t want you, for a single second, thinking I was able to walk away freely. I want you to know that if I had a single say in the matter, I would choose you. Every single time.’
The grimness of her smile is more devastating still than the tears.
‘But you wouldn’t. It’s sweet that you think you would, but you would never, ever have chosen a girl like me, even if you weren’t signed up to marry Selena.
It could never be. Your family would go apeshit, and I’d never be up to the role of a duchess.
You deserve someone who’s able to be a proper partner, and pull their weight.
I’d be totally fucking useless.’ She lets out an exhausted-sounding sigh. ‘All that said, I love you too.’
I can’t quite allow myself to believe it, even if it feels, not anticlimactic exactly, but wasteful.
A gift that arrives far too late for the season in which you could have actually enjoyed it.
I love her, and she loves me, and it’s too fucking late, and what’s been the point of it all, except to furnish me with a lifelong reminder of what I’ve been missing?
‘Do you really?’ is all I can manage.
‘I really do. And it hurts so bloody much.’
I wrap my leg more tightly around her and bury my face in her sweet-scented neck for a moment before flopping back down onto my pillow so I can see her.
‘God. I’m so, so sorry. I’ve been so fucking selfish.
I tracked you down, bribed you, basically, and forced my way into your life when I knew, I knew, I had nothing to offer you.
And now I’ve made both of us thoroughly miserable when you have enough shit going on without adding a broken heart into the mix. ’
She gives me the sweetest, saddest smile.
‘Listen here. I’ll never, ever regret it.
I’d rather have let you break my heart than never have known you.
And it’s the twenty-first century, you adorable, old-fashioned idiot.
You’re allowed to fuck people without making an honest woman of them, you know.
’ She shoves my shoulder playfully, and I manage a watery smile.
Her face grows serious. ‘Besides, you’ve probably saved Dawn’s life, or at the very least, prolonged it.
What you’ve done for her is— I can never thank you enough. ’
‘It was something I could do easily,’ I protest. ‘Throwing money at a problem isn’t exactly Nobel Prize-worthy. I just wish there was something I could do for you.’
‘On that note.’ She clears her throat. ‘I’ve been thinking about this, too, and I can’t work for Flora for much longer.
I’ll go see her on Monday, but there’s no point in me coming back when her term starts again after Christmas.
It’s stupid. You’re paying me through the nose and I’m not even doing anything. ’
‘That’s not true,’ I say, hoping my voice sounds firm and doesn’t carry the sharp edge of panic I’m feeling.
I need to know Ivy will have some sort of steady, meaningful income once I walk away.
In my almost powerless state, it’s the only thing I can do.
I’ve already been worried about how she’ll manage when Flora is at home for the Christmas break.
Uni broke up last week, and it’s been a relief to me that she’s hung around in London.
Not only does it mean she’s making a home there, but it’s income for Ivy.
‘It is true, and we both know it. But I’m not a charity case. And also, I can’t do it. I’d like to stay in touch with her, but it’ll hurt too much if I’m around your family.’ She tilts her chin up defiantly. ‘I think a clean break is best.’
She’s right; I know she is. I know this is the only way both of us can move forward. But, until she says it out loud, I haven’t realised how much I’ve been hoping my sister will be able to drop me the occasional Ivy-related breadcrumb next year.
I’m the one whose circumstances are forcing this break, yet she’s the only one who’s being an adult about it. I fell in love with her, and I made her fall in love with me in return, and it seems she’s far stronger than I am.
‘What will you do for money?’ I ask instead. ‘Do you have a plan?’
‘I say this with love, babe, but that’s not your problem. And yes, I do have a plan.’
My entire body goes stiff as a board. ‘You’re not going back to Alchemy, are you?’
‘No. Mainly because the late nights aren’t fair on the twins.’ She hesitates. ‘But also because I wouldn’t be able to handle any other guys touching me after being with you. You’ve totally fucked me over.’
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, guilt and relief and an utterly unwarranted sense of possession curdling nastily in my belly. Lord knows, I need her to have a way to put food on the table and a roof over her family’s heads, but I can’t bear it if she sells her body to do so.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say again, grimacing. ‘But I won’t pretend I’m not glad.’
‘I didn’t mind the job before. I enjoyed it. You’ve even ruined sex for me.’ She gives me a rueful little smile that suggests it’s more of a compliment than an insult. But I don’t smile back. I can’t.
‘How do I know you and your family will be okay?’
‘You don’t. And you’ll have to live with that. All our choices have consequences. That’s yours.’
She doesn’t say it with malice, doesn’t spell out that I can’t have my cake and eat it.
It’s a statement of fact, not a guilt trip.
I know Ivy would never dream of trying to sway my decision or change who I am, no matter how unfathomable she finds my sense of duty.
Her integrity is one of the things I love the most about her.
‘Fair. Harsh but fair.’ I give her a reluctant nod. ‘It feels like there’s so much more to say.’
Her shrug is one of utmost defeat. ‘Not really. Actually, I think there’s nothing to say.’
I sit with that for a moment. We’ve shared this, all this, and we’re both supposed to turn and walk in opposite directions at Heathrow tomorrow: I to the short-stay car park and Ivy to the pick-up area where I’ve asked Charlie to collect her.
The last thing I want is for her to end this weekend on the Tube.
The arrivals area at Heathrow is supposed to be the stuff of joy: lovers, families, friends reunited. The wonder of human connection. We’ve all seen Love Actually.
It’s a wholly unsuitable place in which to walk away from the love of your life.