Page 8 of Chasing Caine
She was here.
I raced to the stairs at the back of the terrace, knocking the table and my materials to the ground. What was she doing here? I charged through the door into the upper floor and recklessly took the flights two and three steps at a time.
At the bottom, I halted, sucking in steadying breaths and folding my arms to conceal their tremble. As I breathed, Mario continued talking.
“He has been very boring.”
He had told me too many times to stop speaking about Samantha. I couldn’t help myself. She was all I wanted. She was everything. My heart crashed against my chest. I could do this. I could face her.
Walking across the large terracotta tiles of the entryway, I stopped before crossing the threshold. “Mario, leave her alone.”
He grinned and winked at her before heading inside.
She was as breathtaking as always, in jeans and a tank top, wearing her leather jacket and motorcycle boots. Why was she dressed like this? It must have been stifling under the late summer Neapolitan sun. Her caramel-colored hair was confined to a long braid and dark circles clung under her eyes.
A lump lodged in my throat. “What are you doing here?”
Her jaw was tense, just as it had been the last time I saw her. “You remember when you asked what I’d do if I knew I would die the next day? And you told me how sad my answer was?”
The lump in my throat grew larger, accompanied by a pit in my stomach. She’d told me she would fly to New York City and spend the time alone. Why was she asking this? “Sì.”
Her chin was up, voice defiant. “I had to prove you wrong, prove I was right about everything. I was better off by myself, without you.”
The pit in my stomach widened. If she didn’t want to be with me, why come all this way? I’d gotten my hopes up too high in the States, when I was carrying the time bomb inside of me that ruined it all. “So, you come here to break my heart all over again?”
“You gave me fourteen hours. So, I got on my bike Friday morning, drove to Detroit, and caught the first plane to New York. I did everything I told you I would.” Her words were sharp, every syllable an attack. “I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, went to the top of the Empire State Building, ate pizza in Times Square, and went to the Cloisters. And it was peaceful and beautiful, exactly like I said it would be.”
This was not a second chance. This was pushing the knife in deeper and twisting it. I sighed and hung my head, turning back into the villa.She was acting petty, something I’d never expected from her. I’d beaten myself up enough times over what I’d done. There was no need to hear it from her.
“But.” Her voice broke, freezing me in place. “All I could think about was that you weren’t there with me. Holding my hand, making me laugh, asking me a million questions.”
I turned to face her, unable to uncross my arms. Her eyes glistened. Those captivating eyes I saw in my dreams every night. Was this a second chance?
“The whole thing took twelve hours.” She flashed her watch at me.“I had two left, Antonio. Then Sofia sent me your address. I went back to the airport and paid a ridiculous amount of money to get on a plane to come here. Because I want to spend those two hours with you. I don’t want to be anywhere else in the world, unless you’re there with me.”
My arms dropped as her tears began. When I saw her in my dreams, she reminded me I wanted a woman who would choose to spend her last hours with me. But Samantha never talked this much, especially about her feelings. If I were awake and this was really her, she would just be staring at me, as though hoping her words would appear magically in my brain.
And yet, her tears flowed freely. “I want you to forgive me for being so stubborn that I couldn’t forgive you. I couldn’t believe someone as miraculous as you would want me. I was scared to fall for you, but now, I’m terrified I’ve lost you. I don’t care if you tell me to get back on a plane after those two hours are up, I just want to be with you right now.”
Dream or not, it didn’t matter. I would accept it for one night, hold her and wake alone in the morning. I hurried to her side and took her hand in mine. Touching her again, the strong yet soft hand, sent goosebumps up my arms and legs.
“I don’t want your heart to weep anymore,” she choked out.
I lifted the hand to my lips and kissed it gently. Her leather jacket creaked, its scent mixing with the citrus aroma I knew as hers. “You have come back to me. What can my heart do now but sing with joy?”
“I want this to work, Antonio. More than anything I’ve ever wanted.”
“But how?” I pressed my forehead to hers and wiped her tears with my thumbs. “You’ll be gone three months after I get home.”
She dropped her backpack and slid her arms around me. “I started looking at apartment websites when I was at the airport.”
I took in a shaky breath, the pit in my stomach closing in an instant, a vibrating energy building where the hole had been. “You’re staying in Brenton? To be with me?”
As she nodded, I pulled her closer, holding her tight. She nestled her face against my neck and I pressed my cheek to hers. This was where I was meant to be. With my arms around her.
“Again, I’m a lucky man.” I leaned back to look at her, brushing my knuckles along her cheek, blinking away the tears clouding my vision. My chest swelled and everything faded away beyond this wonderful woman. Words I’d felt for so long tumbled out. “Oh, Samantha, I love you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head. This was more like her. Quiet when the words were important.