Page 108 of Burning Caine
I touched my forehead to hers, chuckling. “You are the most charming and ridiculous woman I’ve ever met.”
She smiled and we kissed, sealing a promise to each other for later. Before we got too carried away, soft voices began to carry from the patio.
She looked to the house. “Time to be social?”
I nodded and we made our way back to the patios and the other guests. My arm around her shoulders, hers around my waist, I introduced her as my girlfriend. She jerked her head at me the first time, but she squeezed me when I winked at her, so it was done. We chatted over drinks and antipasti, while I introduced her to everyone.
The white-jacketed caterers ushered us in for dinner. Again, I had to nudge her along with a promise of everything I would show her after dinner.
The dining room regularly sat fourteen, but an additional table was set to accommodate eight extra diners. Papa was at the head of the dining table, with me and Samantha to his left, while Mamma sat at the other end. By the time the meal started, dusk was nearing, so the chandeliers and candles were lit, casting a soft glow through the room.
Bottles of red wine, made from their vineyard, were brought up from the wine cellar, and the glasses were filled liberally. Samantha and I drank little, small touches and glances a reminder of our intentions for later.
After four amazing courses and two hours of conversation, Papa stood at the end of the table and tapped his fork to his glass as he raised it. “Friends, family! I asked you all here to celebrate! But none of you know why. Are there any guesses?”
“Because you don’t need a good excuse for a party?” suggested one of his friends, and everyone laughed.
“So true!” Papa’s broad smile was even wider than usual. “But no, there’s a special reason for tonight! You know I was gone to Napoli for two weeks, yes?”
He looked around and heads nodded.
“My son, Antonio, earned his doctorate degree for a groundbreaking method of conserving ancient frescoes, so they will last a thousand more years. I’m so proud of him for this research.”
I shook my head, rolling my eyes. A thousand years. Samantha reached over to hold my hand under the table.
“Since then, he has been working at the studio with me, making no use of this. So, I went to Napoli to talk to the archaeologists in charge of the excavations of Pompeii. I told them about this new method. And can you guess what they said?”
Again, he stopped for effect, but my excited smile had already started. Goosebumps covered my arms and I looked back to Samantha, who was hanging on Papa’s every word. My mother had tears in her eyes.
Papa looked at me, holding his wine glass up with one hand and placing the other on my shoulder. “They will use his new method for the restoration of the newly excavatedCasa di Marte.”
The group applauded, some obviously understanding the significance of it. My jaw dropped and I squeezed Samantha’s hand.
“Oh my god, Antonio! That’s amazing!” She kissed my cheek. “I’m so proud of you!”
I placed my other hand on my father’s, blinking away the tears forming in my eyes. This truly was the best evening of my life.
Papa hadn’t yet taken a drink and continued once the applause stopped. “And you, Antonio, will be there for four months to train them. You leave for Napoli on Tuesday!”
What? No, no, no. My grip on Samantha’s hand faltered, and it was her turn to squeeze to reassure me. I looked back to her, my smile gone. Her smile gone. She had just come back into my life. I couldn’t lose her already.
“To my son, Antonio!” declared Papa. “Trainer of the Pompeii conservators!” He raised his glass and drank as everyone cheered.
Everyone except for Samantha and me.
Chapter 42
Samantha
“Congratulations.”Ipastedona smile but all I wanted to do was cry. He shook his head and pressed his lips to my hand. It had been a surprise to him, as well.
With the group still applauding and offering congratulations to Dom and Antonio, plates of tiramisu were placed in front of each person.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I needed to get out of that space. He was leaving for four months. I hadn’t even known him three full weeks yet, and he’d be gone for four months. In three days.
He pointed down the hall, recommending a private one past the foyer. I got up, shaky on my feet. Four months. The house was a blur as I walked, tears welling in my eyes. When I arrived, I collapsed on the edge of the large tub, smacked it a couple times, and cried. I was Miss August, after all.
Our future was so clear now. Four months would turn into eight, then a year, and I’d never see him again. Our three weeks together couldn’t compare with this opportunity. No, he’d promise to come back, then never would.