He hesitated. Unconsciously, I leaned into him. He smelled like spice and sandalwood, exotic and masculine. He lowered his head, his gaze still gripping mine. “I don’t want you to think of him anymore.” I waited, transfixed, as his lips stopped inches from mine. “I’m crazy about you, Liv. And I just want you to think about me.”
He kissed me. Soft, warm lips savored mine. I melted into him while the crowds rushed around us and the lights twinkled and the scream of a police siren blasted through the air. None of it mattered. We kept kissing, and when he finally pulled away, it was decided.
We were together.
* * *
• • •
Dear Livia, amore mio,
My hands are shaking as I write this. I have waited so long and practiced this letter in my head for several days and sleepless nights. Since we said goodbye, I’ve held tight to the bond we formed that first summer afternoon, when I saw you standing by the water, blinking in the sun, a shy smile on your lips. My heart leapt in my chest and instantly became yours. It always will be.
I think of you and wonder how you spent this last year. I picked up the phone a thousand times. I wrote you letters I ended up tossing away, knowing I needed to keep my promise of no contact. It was the only way to truly know our hearts. For me, nothing has changed.
I still love you, dolcezza. I want to spend the rest of my days with you. My father has retired and now I must take care of him. During this time apart, I realized we can solve any of our problems as long as we are together. The real question is, do you still want to be with me? To move here and start a life together?
Does your heart still belong to me?
I know it is possible you have changed and grown in a new direction. I know it was a risk when I told you to be free and find what you truly want. For me, it has always been you. But I would rather lose you completely than take parts of you because you are doubtful. We have always been truthful with each other, dolcezza. And though it will hurt deeply, I still only want your happiness. I can take anything as long as I know you are living the life that satisfies your soul. No matter what, I will be here for you. Always.
Forever yours,
R
Dear R,
When I received your letter, I carried it with me for two full days, afraid to read your words. I still dream about Positano, and you. I still think about the time we spent together, the way you seemed to hold my very heart in your hands, and the way you helped me grow into a woman I always hoped I’d be.
When I finally read your words, a piece of my heart crumbled and became forever yours. Because as much as I wanted to return to you, fate put me on a different path and I am torn apart but must tell you the truth.
I’ve gotten a job in an art gallery in Manhattan. I love my work and feel more fulfilled than I ever have. Besides being surrounded by new and emerging artists, I find I’m good at talking with people and making sales. I will be graduating with a 3.9 GPA. My mom is now settled in Boston, but we’ve grown much closer. It’s as if now she’s fully happy, she’s able to support me in ways I’ve never known before. We talk all the time, and I’ve come to care about my new stepdad. My own father is also doing well, and dating again. It’s as if all those years of unrest had to happen to come to this point. I’ve been thinking about that a lot. How people come into our life and change it in so many ways. That is who you will always be to me. My first love and my best friend. The man who loved me as I was; who gave me the strength and support I needed to grow into the woman I am right now.
But you asked for the truth and I must give it to you. I have met someone. A man who had been a casual friend and slowly became more. I never meant to betray or hurt you, Rafe. I struggled and fought my feelings for a long time, but I knew in order to be fully yours, I had to explore this path with him so I can eventually return to you with a whole heart.
My choice backfired. I fell in love with him. I fell in love with New York City, and being part of the art culture I’ve spent so many years studying from afar. And as much as I’ll always wonder if one day I’ll regret my decision, I must stay here and follow this new path.
Oh, Rafe, can you find a way to understand and, perhaps, forgive me? I feel sometimes as if my body has been wrenched in half, the agonizing sorrow for betraying you, and our vow. But even worse would be for me to return and then rip us apart by my doubts and regrets! I cannot lie to you and say there is no one else. I can’t say any longer that Italy is the place I see myself for the rest of my life.
How do I express my grief and pain in hurting you? My shame at doing the same exact thing I accused your ex of doing? Perhaps you’ll never be able to forgive me, and that will be my punishment. And I don’t blame you. I’m the one who failed us. I can only ask that maybe one day, you can find a way to accept my limitations and go on to have the life and love you deserve. Even if it’s not with me. I will never forget you.
Livia
Dear Livia,
You are forgiven. Yes, my heart is broken, but to hear of your happiness, to know you are pursuing your passion and have healed the rift with your mother, is worth everything. You have been a gift in my life who will never be forgotten. My bright spot, my joy, and now a dream I will carry with me forever. I will always be here for you if you need me. And I will always love you.
R
chapter twenty-five
Pris
Pris stood alone, staring out her open balcony door. Dev had gone to bed. Bailey was at Hawke’s. The night sky was dark, and a deep hush of silence blanketed the world. Her mind caught and seized on various memories, as if spurred from the first honest conversation she’d had with her sisters earlier today. It had jarred something loose within her, and now the demons were free.
About time.
She’d studied for years at the School of American Ballet, ever since she was eight years old, gaining her spot when she begged her mother to go to an open audition. She’d danced in the iconic Nutcracker ballet at nine, thankfully small enough to score a coveted part. She was one of the lucky ones—invited to be a part of the New York City Ballet—and slipped eventually into a primary ballerina role.
The years dedicated to dance fulfilled her, yet kept her from all the other experiences that marked a normal teenager. There were no late nights at clubs, dating boys, or sneaking alcohol at school parties. Her world narrowed to the people she interacted with at ballet—the instructors and fellow dancers and investors. When Garrett saw her dance one evening and asked to meet her, she felt as if her world had been cracked open—as if she’d been an oyster kept tight in her shell and Garrett forced her to change into a pearl. She’d never been in love before and it had consumed her, even more than dancing.