Page 20 of All is Not Lost
But I miss her.
Giovanni doesn't answer. He doesn't need to. His presence is response enough, his embrace a promise.
"Perhaps," I start, daring to consider the possibility, "perhaps closure is worth the risk." But the thought is terrifying, a leap into the unknown. I really don’t want to get hurt again. I wouldn’t be able to take it.
"Whatever you decide, amore mio," Giovanni says, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my head, "I'm with you."
And at that moment, with his arms around me, I feel a flicker of warmth cutting through the cold shadow of my fears.
The warmth of Giovanni's arms still lingers around me as I inch away, just enough to look into his eyes. They're a deep, soulful brown, brimming with the kind of compassion that doesn't need words. His gaze anchors me and steadies the tumultuous sea of my emotions.
I take a shaky breath, the weight of my decision pressing down on me like the summer heat. My fingers hover over the phone, an electronic lifeline that feels as heavy as lead. To answer or not to answer, that is the question that has churned inside me, leaving a maelstrom of doubt and longing in its wake.
"Thank you," I whisper, my voice threadbare from all the crying. I don't know how he does it—how he can stand by me even when I'm a tangled mess of past hurts and new fears. But he does, and it's a gift I never knew I needed until now.
Nerves tingle at my fingertips as they finally descend upon the screen, typing out a response with a strange sense of detachment. It's as if I'm observing someone else's life unfolding—one where bravery isn't just a choice but a necessity. The words come slow and deliberate, a mix of determination and vulnerability lacing each letter I tap out.
"Carla," I begin, the name feeling foreign yet painfully familiar in my mind. "I have nothing to say to you. You did the unforgivable, and I never want to see you again." My thumb hovers over the send button, my heart thrumming against my ribs.
"Are you sure?" Giovanni's voice is a gentle nudge, not pushing, just confirming my resolve.
I nod, more to convince myself than to answer him and press down. The message whooshes away, carrying with it the fragile hope of getting closure and the stark fear of reopened wounds.
"Okay," I exhale, the word a soft surrender to whatever comes next. My hands are no longer trembling, steadied by the certainty that Giovanni's support is unwavering.
"Okay," he echoes back, a smile touching his lips.
With the message sent into cyberspace, my heart flutters like a caged bird within my chest. I lift my gaze, and it collides with Giovanni's—a silent conversation passing between us in the span of a heartbeat. His dark eyes are steady, a calm harbor against the storm of emotions that have been threatening to capsize me.
"Gianni," I whisper, my voice brittle with unshed tears, "I'm damaged goods… you know that, right?"
I have told him this numerous times, but I’m not sure he understands. That’s why I keep repeating it. I don’t understand what he wants with me. I don’t have a lot to offer him. Why is he here? Why does he want me? Am I just the flavor of the month?
His smile is tender as he steps closer, closing the distance until we're breathing the same air.
"Sophia," he says, his thumb lightly tracing the line of my jaw, "to me, you're invaluable—a masterpiece with a few unique battle scars."
He's taking a risk, being here with me, embracing all the shards of my fractured trust. It's a chance I've warned him not to take, yet here he stands, unflinching.
I don’t get it.
"It's a chance I'm willing to take," he vows, his voice resonating with a warmth that tugs at my heart.
In that moment, something inside me shifts—a tectonic plate of emotion settling into place after a long period of unrest. The walls I've built tremble under the weight of his sincerity, and I allow myself the luxury of leaning into the solace he offers.
And then his lips find mine.
The kiss ignites like a spark in dry tinder—hot and passionate, an inferno that blazes through every nerve ending. He tastes of promise, and the sweet tang of a future I'd thought was lost to me. My arms wind around his neck, fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck as I surrender to the sensation.
We break apart, breathless, our foreheads touching as we share the same air, the same wild heartbeat. A profound sense of rightness blankets me, soothing the jagged edges of my soul. He's here, he's real, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I'm not facing the world alone.
Chapter
Eight
I brush a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear as I glance over at Giovanni. The sun casts a golden hue on his curly locks, making them seem like they're holding the light itself. He's studying a crumpled piece of paper, his brows furrowed in concentration.
"Okay, so we tackle the garden first," he says, and his eyes flick up to meet mine, sparking with his unwavering positivity. "It'll mean a lot to Lucia. She hasn’t been able to do much around the house and in the yard since her husband passed away. And maybe… it could be good for us too, to work on something together. To rebuild that trust."