Chapter 18 #2
“That aside, you looked real. Like a real man, with good and bad, all in full view. Not like them. I’d studied them my entire life, trying to understand their dynamics and logic.
To me, they never made much sense. How could they?
They were cardboard characters with no hearts.
Everything was a game to them, an act. Their lives were long strings of lies.
That’s why they ignored me and tried to use me and put me in a box. ”
She’s so serious now that her eyes look like a rainy day.
“You looked different to me, too,” I admit, and her eyes become alight with curiosity.
“Seriously. How?”
“I know fake people when I see them. You were right about them. I hadn’t come to your place expecting real conversations.
I was set up, remember? So everything looked like I expected it.
You, on the other hand, couldn’t hide your fascination with me and didn’t know how to conceal it.
So I knew even back then that you weren’t a puppet.
A soulless player. That you somehow got lost in the mix of self-serving interests and ugly stuff I didn’t want to have anything to do with.
It wasn’t my place to straighten things out in your family, though. ”
“And look at you now,” she says with a smile that brings back the gleeful Leilani.
Her sparkling eyes put a grin on my face.
“Yeah… Look at me now. Let’s take a walk to the other side. We can leave our horses here,” I suggest, already dismounting.
LEILANI
The afternoon light hugs us like an old friend.
We’re both heated, thoughtful, looking for words to say.
We’ve entered that phase where we’re careful about what we say for fear of messing up, at the same time brimming with anticipation.
We know that a lot is about to happen to us.
Good and bad stuff.
And after last night's events, we want to pace ourselves and make this good feeling last as long as we can.
Having the prospect of this kind of danger in our minds makes us think more deeply about what we want and don’t want in life and arms us with the persistence and courage we need to pursue it.
Dirt crumbles beneath our feet as we look for a patch of grass, and eventually find one.
We stop, and he gives me the story of the property.
He tells me that he was tempted to buy it at some point, and now he weighs that option again, his words echoing in the air.
I’ve never seen happily married people.
Most of the married couples I had in my life lived a lie, so my point of reference is nonexistent.
But I imagine they would look like us.
Bullets flew through the house last night, and now we’re here talking about aromatic grapes, delicious wine, and Sicily’s perfect weather.
In a different life, he’d fit perfectly in this picture.I can see him running an estate like this, making money with it, and raising a family.
I can see him do it in this life as well, although under different circumstances, without his most ferocious enemies on the prowl––which sadly now includes my family––and outside the circle of crime, which will probably never happen.
The odds are stacked against us once we’re born into this world.
Ask me how I know.
But hope dies last, and we, as people, have this unique ability to make the impossible possible.
It’s just that our failure rate is high.
That has never stopped us.
His hand holds mine, and I get cradled by his voice, enchanted by his eyes, and fascinated by the serious matters we discuss.
For the first time, someone talks to me like I’m an adult, instead of dismissing me and sending me to my room.
My mother got many things wrong and made a ton of mistakes, but she surely did one thing right when she started talking about sending me overseas.
What she had hoped, though, never happened.
Her sending me overseas helped my dreams come true. What she was afraid of ended up happening.
It goes without saying that you can’t fight fate, not even when you’re Bianca Gallo.
The sun moves slowly toward the horizon when he drapes his arm over my shoulders, and I have that feeling that he trusts me, a gift I’m infinitely grateful for.
“What would you like to do tonight?” he asks as we stroll back, still locked together.
His arm is still draped over my shoulders.
Mine still looped around his waist.
“What about we’re having dinner here?” I say.
He tilts his eyes to me, smiling.
“Here? At night?”
“Yes. Why not. I’m sure it will be beautiful. A night picnic.”
He looks at me, amused.
“Away from your people,” I go on.
“You don’t like my people?”
“I love your people. They saved my life. I just want to imagine a different life for you and me. One in which we're allowed to do crazy things like this. Have dinner in the vineyard at night. Lie down, look at the stars, and talk about life.”
He studies me with a thoughtful look on his face.
“It sounds good to me,” he eventually says, and I press my head against his shoulder while he kisses my hair.
“Thank you,” I say, happy.
“You make my life so easy,” he tosses back at me, with humor.
“You make my life possible, so I win.”
My words carry the burden of truth, brimming with honesty, but we laugh instead of delving into a serious conversation, and soon, we reach our horses and head back.