Chapter Eleven

Six months later

 

“No, stay, bellezza.” Luca’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me back on the bed, kissing me deeply. “You cannot leave.” He stared down at me, his eyes full of emotion, forcing me to pull back from him.

“You know I can’t stay.” I unwrapped myself from the sheets, grabbing my dress off the floor, and pulling it over my naked body. “Angelo wants me to stop in and say goodbye, and I have a lot of packing to do before my flight tomorrow.” I patted down my hair, staring out Luca’s bedroom window, the dome from the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore cutting above the rest of the building. My chest tightened. This was the last time I’d look at it from this window.

“No.” Luca propped up on his elbow, his long, toned body defined through the thin sheet. “I mean stay for good.” His clipped English was a thousand times better than my Italian, although I had gotten better.

“My visa is up; I can’t stay. Plus, I really do think my father will kill me if I don’t come home this time. My grandparents even put in a pool at our house as a welcome back gift.” I rolled my eyes. They didn’t do it for me but to show up Grandma Penny because she couldn’t afford such lavish gifts but baked cookies with us instead. My jeep, the pool—it was all to display they were better than her. Money and gifts were nothing to my Grandma Penny’s love.

I had hoped the Galleria would have a job opening for me after my internship ended, but no such luck. Caterina was kind enough to write me a recommendation letter, which I guess she never did, so I was thankful for that. It would look great on my resume.

If there was any hope I could stay the summer, it withered away when I got a call from Mom.

“First, let me say she’s okay,” Mom rushed out the moment I answered the call.

Dread strangled my airwaves, a knee-jerk reaction to traumatic news. “What happened?”

“Your grandmother,” my mom snipped in annoyance. “Yes, Mother, I’m talking about you.”

“Oh, Amy, you are such a drama queen.” Grandma Penny’s voice soothed my fear.

“Mom?” I yelled into the phone. “Talk to me… What happened?”

“Your grandmother…” She started again. When Grandma Penny did something crazy she became “your grandmother,” like it was my fault. “She and her Bunco group decided it would be a good idea to go parasailing.”

A grin broke over my mouth. I already knew where this was going.

“And guess who broke her leg and is staying with us all summer?”

“I was perfectly happy at my own house, Amy. It was you who demanded I come here.”

“Mom, you can’t walk without help. How did you expect to get around?”

“That cutie Carter from down the street, Joan and Gary’s grandson,” Grandma replied. “Oh, don’t give me that look. When did you get so uptight? He’s twenty! Plus, I’m not going to touch. I simply enjoy watching him mow my lawn.”

“Moooommmm,” my mother whined into the phone, only making me laugh harder. “Jay-Jay, you have to come home now,” she whispered hoarsely in the phone. “Help me or I’m going to lose my mind. One of us won’t make it through the summer.”

“I’ll be home in a few days,” I reassured her. “Don’t kill each other until I get there.”

“No promises,” Mom huffed before we hung up.

With my school visa at its end and my parents wanting me home, I knew I had to be on the plane. I missed my family like crazy. And Stevie. The thrill of knowing she was back at home with her mother for the summer almost made leaving Florence worth it. I couldn’t wait to see her again. She told me I was a huge reason she gave into her mom, that being back home was endurable only if I were there.

Leaving this city was going to break my heart, especially because of Colleen and the friends I made at the museum.

And leaving Luca…

“I want you to stay.” Luca’s pleading drew me back to him, his dark eyes searching mine. “Marry me, bellezza.”

Shocked laughter spurted from my mouth, swinging me around. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. Do I not look serious?” His eyebrows narrowed in confusion, the little nuances between cultures not always understood. “I love you. If you marry me, you can stay.”

Sheer panic squeezed my lungs, shrinking the room around me, as it had every time he told me he loved me. He first told me four months ago, but I darted and weaved around it like a ninja. It was only a month ago that I had finally admitted the truth to myself.

“Do you not love me?” He sat up, his toned stomach rippling from the hours he spent playing soccer when he wasn’t at the museum.

I did. The knowledge had startled me. Somewhere along the line, Luca had moved into the last shred of my heart that was still alive. I didn’t know if it was enough though, I was already so broken.

“Luca…” I rubbed my forehead in frustration. “I told you I do, but I’m not ready…”

“Ready for what, Jayme?” he snapped, irritation weaving over his features. “You live with me. We are happy, right?”

“Yes.” I sighed, trying not to flee the room like I wanted.

After Sammie left, I’d acquired a new roommate who was a horrible slob and rude about it. Luca wanted me to move in right away, but I fought it for a while, until my roommate’s dirty underwear on the floor and moldy cereal bowls full of old milk pushed me too far. Luca moved me into his place, where I finally admitted we were together.

He was free with his declarations of love and did not shy away from PDAs. We had a lot of fun and the sex was great, but I knew deep down the love I felt for him wasn’t at the level he felt for me. I no longer believed I was capable of that kind of love.

“Marry me.” He went up on his knees, letting the sheet drop, his hands grabbing my hips.

“Luca, you’re nuts.” I shook my head. “I’m nineteen. I’m not marrying anyone now. If ever.”

“Then marry me for the visa.” He nuzzled my neck. “I can’t imagine not waking next to you every day, bellissimo. Sono dipendente dei tuoi baci.” I’m addicted to your kisses.

“You knew this was going to end.” I pulled back from him, walking to the dresser and tugging on fresh underpants. I had been struggling badly with the idea of leaving. This felt like my home. I loved my life here, and most importantly I loved who I had become. Confident. Happy. Content.

Almost every day I would walk the bridge, taking in the stunning medieval city, the cradle of the Renaissance that had captured my heart, making me feel alive with its colorful red domed cathedrals and spires. Whenever I passed the section of the bridge where I had shredded the last of my old self six months ago and had walked away a different person, I treated it like an old war memorial. The past shaped who I had become today, so I couldn’t regret it. Technically, I was still young, but the years I lived already could challenge those twice my age. I no longer felt like an unsure child, but a woman ready to take on the world. My future lay before me.

Now Luca’s words tore me in half. I loved him, but I was no fool. If I loved him with every ounce of my heart, his offer would have me bubbling with joy. Hell, I was looking for a reason to stay.

“Don’t make this harder.” I shoved my feet into my sandals, strolling to the small kitchen. “It’s our last night, Luca. Let’s just enjoy the time we have.”

“How can I?” He slipped on a pair of shorts, trailing after me in anger. “I say I love you. I want to marry you, and I get nothing.” He tapped at his chest, anguish creasing his face. “I could not pretend. If you do not love me, tell me. End this now. Smettila di torturarmi.” Stop torturing me.

The pain I was causing him felt like a punch to my gut. I shut my eyes against the contradicting struggle fighting in my chest. In the beginning, he was happy to have a casual relationship with me, without labels, but that changed before I even moved in. I should have stopped it then, but I loved being with him, loved the time we spent together. He was smart, sexy, and totally devoted to me. Why couldn’t the love I did feel be enough? It would be so easy. He was perfect. We’d have a great life together. But as happy as I was, part of me was beyond broken, and I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t. He deserved better than that. Than me.

“Mi dispiace,” I whispered. I’m sorry.

His chin jerked up, his nose flaring. “You did warn me. I did not hear you.”

“Luca, you know I care about you so much. The last nine months have been amazing.”

“Care is not love, bellezza.”

“Luca, I do love you.” My hands wrung together.

“But not enough.” He exhaled, putting his hands on his hips, staring at the floor, the silence growing between us painfully. Finally he took in a breath, his voice cooler. “I will not be here when you get home. I will be at my parents’ casa.” He shook his head, sorrow dropping his shoulders.

“Luca,” I whispered his name, feeling my heart squeeze. “That’s not what I want. I want to spend my last night with you.” I reached out for him.

“No, amore.” Pain etched in his eyes as his fingers brushed over my lips. “My heart has to say goodbye now.” He stepped in closer. “Mi sono innamorato di te.” I fell in love with you. “Now I have to fall out.” His lips softly met mine. I could feel the goodbye in his kiss, all the grief and love pouring into me. Tears clogged my throat; this was the last time I would feel his lips on mine. He had brought so much joy and life into my world, and I hated myself for hurting him. This final, excruciating goodbye sat on my shoulders alone. “Goodbye, bellezza. Buon viaggio.” He kissed my nose, then whirled around, marching back to the bedroom. I heard the sound of the door shutting.

Tears welled in my eyes, his absence echoing in the small flat. My heart ached, tempted to run after him, tell him I made a mistake, agree to stay with him. I knew he was the closest to happiness I would ever get.

My gaze now drifted over the place we shared for months, pictures of us scattered over the shelves and walls. I walked slowly to the one taken on my birthday. We looked so happy. A laugh glowed on my face as he nuzzled my ear, holding a sparkler for me to blow out. It was the night he told me he loved me the first time.

“Buon compleanno,” his group of friends and their girlfriends sang out to me. They had welcomed me with open arms. The language sometimes made me feel like an outsider, but they were all nice. Three other couples took up most of the booth table, cheering and holding up wine and champagne glasses in my honor.

My mouth had dropped in shock. My birthday was in a few days, we had just gotten off work, Luca saying he wanted to pop into the restaurant his friend owned to grab a bottle of wine to take home.

“Surprise, bellezza,” Luca whispered in my ear.

Luca’s best friend, Stefano, the owner of the restaurant, kissed both my cheeks, handing me a glass of champagne.

“Grazie.” I put my hand on my chest, truly taken aback by the surprise.

That night we danced, drank, made out everywhere, and had fun. It was the first night I let myself let go. Let Luca slip into my heart.

“Did you have a good night?” He wrapped his arms around me as we walked down the cobble streets back to my dorm, the night quiet, the city fast asleep, the chill of the night burning my nose and cheeks.

“I did. Thank you, Luca.” I snuggled into his tall frame, his long wool coat rubbing my cheek.

We walked for a bit more in silence. As we reached the Duomo he halted us, turning me into him. The icy temperatures billowed condensation from his mouth.

“Move in with me.”

“What?” I snapped out of my drunken haze.

“You hate living there. Your roommate. Terrible.”

“Yes, but…”

“No buts, bellezza.” He shook his head, grabbing my coat and pulling me in closer. “You are almost living with me anyway.”

“Luca…” I tried to think of a reason to refuse. “It’s a little soon.”

“Soon?” He grinned. “We’ve been seeing each other since October.”

“I—”

“I’m in love with you, bellezza.”

A sharp breath sawed down my throat into my lungs. “Wh-what?”

“Ti amo.” His dark eyes sparkled under the lights of the cathedral, his hands cupping my face. “Entra con me.” Move in with me.

“You are crazy.” I shook my head in his hands. “You don’t mean that. It’s way too soon, Luca.”

“Some might say.” He shrugged. “But I know what I want. The moment I met you, it’s been you. You are the most important thing to me. I want to be wherever you are.”

Most important thing to me. The sentiment punched me right in the heart. I was his priority. First on his list. It was the very thing I wanted to hear. To feel.

A deep sorrow burned my throat, reminding me I would never be that to the person I wanted to be. I shoved the thoughts of him away. Luca was my present… possibly my future. Hunter would never be mine. He was my past.

“Si?” He lifted my chin, searching my gaze, his eyes full of emotion. I let myself get lost in the feel of Luca’s love, the epic backdrop of the stunning Duomo lit up behind us. “Bellezza?”

My head slowly dipped up and down. “Si.”

“Veramente?” Really?

“Yes.” I grinned as his mouth crashed down on mine, the warmth and feel of his kiss wrapping around me like a blanket.

“You made me so happy.” He tucked me firmer against his chest, his lips brushing my forehead. “Happy birthday, Jayme.”

Now the memories from each picture, of all the beautiful moments he brought to my life, overwhelmed me. Laughter. Love. Always making me feel wanted. Adored. Never once did I feel in second place.

Yet, it wasn’t enough to hold me here.

With a body that seemed to weigh twice as much now, I left our flat, dragging myself out into the city. Tourists and locals filled the streets. The man who owned the gelato stand I visited frequently waved at me. The yeasty scent of warm rolls and the delicious tang of coffee curled out from the caffe Luca and I visited almost every morning before heading to the Gallery.

Tears stabbed at the back of my lids as I made my way to the Accademia Gallery, which had been my second home for the last nine months. I had been in Florence for almost a year, taking day trips to places outside of Florence, traveling to different cities on weekends, and even exploring different countries.

This time away had changed me so much, and I felt lucky for the experience. I knew I wasn’t done with Europe. I’d be back, but I was also excited for the next chapter of my life and where my studies would take me.

The tears still trailed down my face as I wandered through what had become a home, soaking in the last tiny bits I could. The way my heart wanted to open up and drink in every nuance of Florence, I realized I was still capable of love.

I had fallen in love with this city.