Page 3 of All is Not Lost

It's him. He’s still there.

"Signorina?" Giovanni's voice pulls at the edges of my resolve. "Maybe I can help you with anything? Perhaps you need something from the town or recommendations for local places to eat or drink?"

My grip tightens on the doorknob. Help? I don't want help; I want oblivion. His kindness, though, tugs at a thread of courtesy within me. I crack the door open just enough to peek through.

"No, thank you," I say, soft but firm. My eyes flit away from his steady gaze, taking in the view behind him instead—the rolling hills, the distant outline of grapevines. "I'm quite content to… wallow."

"Ah, capisco." There's a warmth in his chuckle that makes it hard to maintain my walls.

"But, out of curiosity, where could one buy wine around here?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. "I've been sober all of thirty minutes, and that feels like an eternity today."

His laughter is rich and genuine, filling the space between us. "Down the street, there's a little store. Best local wines you'll find."

I offer a small, reluctant smile. "I knew you could be useful for something."

This banter is lighter than I feel, but it anchors me to the moment, to the man standing before me with cookies and an easy laugh.

"Anytime, Signorina…?"

“Sophia, just call me Sophia, I say, then immediately regret it. Telling your name to someone is creating connections, and that’s not what I want right now. That’s not what I ever want again.

“Sophia,” he sings with a playful bow of his head, and I shut the door once more, leaning against it as I consider venturing into the world for a bottle of liquid solace.

I slide the key into the lock, and the metallic click is a sharp reminder of my intention to isolate. The creak of the door behind me is unexpected, and as I turn, there he stands again—Giovanni, his eyes soft with something that looks like compassion. He is standing in his own doorway.

"Signorina Sophia," he starts, and his voice is gentle, a soothing balm that I'm not sure I want. "May I share something with you?"

I hesitate, my hand gripping the doorknob tighter. In truth, I want nothing more than to shut out this world and its incessant reminders that happiness is fleeting. But something in his earnest gaze holds me still, and I nod just slightly.

"I, too, have felt the sting of heartbreak." His words hang between us, and I can't help but notice how the sunlight catches the sorrow in his eyes. "It was a love that I thought would last a lifetime, but it crumbled, leaving me feeling lost."

How the heck does he know that I had my heart broken? Is it that obvious? Maybe it’s just a trick he plays on all the women around here. To come off as vulnerable and make me feel sorry for him.

I’m weary of his sudden confession, but I have to admit that there's a vulnerability in his admission, an openness that is stark against the walls I've fortified around my own battered heart. For a moment, I am drawn in by the shared experience of pain, by the raw honesty in his voice.

“How did you know I was…?” I start, then trail off as I feel myself drawn into his deep eyes.

"Life has a way of throwing us to the ground," he continues, "but we get up, learn, and find new paths."

I feel the echo of my heartache in his words, tugging at something deep within me. My curiosity piques, and I listen, despite myself, to the rhythm of his tale of loss and healing.

Yet, even as my guard falters, I quickly rebuild it. This is not what I need—not now. I promised myself no more men—no more falling for them, especially not men like Giovanni, who know exactly what to say and when.

"Thank you for sharing that, Giovanni," I say, my voice steady though my insides are anything but. "But I'm not looking for friendship or… anything really. I just need some time alone."

The rest of my miserable life. Please.

His smile is sad yet accepting, and he nods. "Of course, Signorina. Just know you're not alone, even when solitude is your chosen companion."

With that, he steps back, giving me the space I've so firmly requested. I rush back inside and close the door with a quiet click, leaning against it as the weight of our exchange settles over me. A brief and unexpected connection had flickered to life, but I quickly snuffed it out. I'm here to drown in my sorrows, not to seek comfort in the shared miseries of a stranger, no matter how kind his eyes are or how sincere his words are.

He's nothing but a player, Sophia. Come on!

So, I turn away from the door, away from Giovanni's offer of empathy, and prepare to lose myself once more in the bottled oblivion that awaits. I want to go to the store, but he’s still out there, and I see him as I open the door again to leave.

Will I ever get to be alone?

I watch Giovanni's retreating figure through the crack of the door, his shoulders broad and sure against the backdrop of the villa's lush gardens. Something in his demeanor speaks of grace, a respect for my wishes that he doesn't push against despite his clear desire to help.