Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Marcus.
After all these years—-
I still couldn’t help thinking he was my Marcus.
“Ciao, bambina.” His soft, accented words wrapped around me—-
Oh.
The words were bittersweet, tearing past the walls I had tried to build around my memories, and for once in my life, I found myself remembering times that didn’t hurt.
I found myself remembering the times that he made me smile.
The times that he made me feel beautiful—-
Nostalgia squeezed my heart, and a fragile smile broke over my lips. “C-Ciao, Marcus.”
His eyes blazed.
Oh.
Could that mean...what I thought it meant?
I watched him reach for me, and I had the craziest urge to run away.
Just leave and never look back.
It was the voice of rationality I supposed, but like how it always played out—-
My foolish side won, and I remained still.
His hand touched the small of my back, and then he was carefully drawing me close. His head lowered, and before I realized what he intended to do, his lips had already touched my cheek.
Oh.
He pulled away and kissed my other cheek, greeting me in Continental fashion.
Oh crap.
The feel of his lips was fleeting, but it was more than enough for me to realize three things.
One: he was still using the same cologne.
Two: I was in danger.
Three: Because I was still attracted to him.
I paled. This was so bad. This was really bad.
“Thank you for coming, bambina.”
I nodded jerkily, no longer able to meet his eyes. “Mi dispiace per tuo nonna.” And I really was sorry for his grandmother’s passing, but I also had to go. Coming here was clearly a big mistake, and the more distance there was between us, the better.
I started to say goodbye, but Marcus suddenly asked, “Da quando?”
Understanding that he was asking me since when I had started speaking in Italian, I answered hesitantly, “Just a few years ago, for—-” I stopped myself in time.
Crap.
This was even worse than I had thought. I wasn't ever the type to babble, and yet five minutes in his company and I was beginning to have trouble recognizing myself.
I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I really—-” My voice faltered as I became aware of being the object of his intense scrutiny.
Déjà vu, I couldn’t help thinking weakly as I struggled to ignore the urge to fidget and writhe.
“You have become more beautiful over the years, bambina.”
Did I? I managed a smile. “So have you.”
His eyebrows lifted, and I tried not to raise my eyebrows back, a little bewildered at his reaction. What now? Did he think I was lying? Or did he genuinely not know the years had only done him good?
Someone behind me coughed, and I found myself secretly grateful at having an excuse to leave. “I really should go,” I muttered. “I’m holding the line—-”
“Si.” Marcus suddenly cupped my elbow, saying smoothly, “An excellent suggestion.”
What was?
“Do accompany me for a walk, bambina. I find myself in need of one.”
We started to walk, and conscious of the gazes that went our way, I had no choice but to go along with him. My brothers looked stoic when Marcus and I walked past them while Fleur’s eyebrows shot up in shock.
You and me both, I thought numbly.
As Marcus led me down a brick pathway outside the parish, I couldn’t help blurting out, “Don’t you think we’re being impolite?”
“I am, but you’re not.” A crooked smile touched his lips. “And I am glad at least that part of you hasn’t changed.”
I’m not, I thought. He was still cryptic as ever, and I wondered if that would ever change.
When we reached the end of the pathway, a cottage that looked something straight out of a Peter Rabbit storybook awaited us, and Marcus opened its door, saying quietly, “My grandmother made this for me when I first moved in with her.”
That he would share such information with me, after all these years, made me feel strangely shy and touched at the same time. “Thank you for bringing me here.” I stepped inside and looked around, admiring the charming storybook feel of its interior.
Flowers and plants abounded all around us, and adding to the cozy feel was the small white piano in the corner and the checkered sofa in the other with its lace pillows and a throw blanket made of purple wool.
Glancing back at Marcus, I said sincerely, “It’s very beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Marcus gestured towards the couch. “Please have a seat.”
As soon as I did, Marcus took up the space next to me, and I stiffened.
Too close, I thought, and tried not to panic.
“So...” Marcus’ quiet drawl drew my attention back to him. “Tell me how you’ve been.”
I relaxed a little. As long as we talked about things that weren’t dangerous, I told myself, we should be fine. And so I turned to him with a smile, saying lightly, “You don’t have to lie, you know.”