“You won’t. I’m not coming back.” Her haunted eyes hold mine. “It’s the only way we can do this.” She kisses me softly. “We need to move on.”
I step back, her detached words cut like a knife.
“Goodbye, Giuliano.” She turns and walks from the plane.
No.
I grab the back of a seat to hold myself up.
No.
No.
Carlo comes through the door, he tentatively walks up the plane, his eyes hold mine, and I stare at him in a daze. He doesn’t say anything because there is nothing to say.
We stand in silence for what feels like a very long time and he waits…because he knows.
“Let’s go,” he says. “We have to.” He turns and walks off the plane and I stand and stare at the ground.
I can’t do this.
You have to.
Eventually, I get off the plane and walk down the stairs. Without making eye contact with Francesca, and on autopilot, I get into the back of the waiting car, it pulls away and Carlo sits silently beside me. Forever faithful.
We drive into the night…straight into hell.
12
Francesca
A million tears cried into the sea of devastation. An emptiness that knows no bounds.
It’s one thing to lose someone, to be brave enough to walk away, but to know he’s hurting too…cuts that much deeper.
I keep seeing his face on the plane, the way his eyes searched mine, the way he clung to me as if his life depended on it. I keep hearing the fear in his voice.
I want to console him, hold him, protect him from the danger.
But I can’t, because I am the enemy.
The person responsible for that broken heart. I cannot fix this, no matter how badly I want to. Nobody can, and it makes it all that much worse.
I had to be strong enough for the both of us, although I’m not so sure that I can be anymore.
I want to sink into a ditch and never get out. The worst part is that I can’t talk about it with anyone, not even Anna. I know how bad this is and there is no excuse for our behavior.
The scenery flies by the car window as I stare solemnly out of it.
Has he eaten?
Is he consoling himself in someone else’s arms right now?
If loving him is a sin, then maybe I don’t care anymore.
The feelings are still between us, whether we act on them or not seems irrelevant.
Just feeling this way about him is a sin….
His words keep playing over and over in my head. “I don’t give a fuck who we are. We belong together. You know it, you know we do.”
And I do.
With every fiber of my being I know that he is my one grand love in this lifetime.
To walk away from it…. Just….
The lump in my throat hurts and I feel a hot tear roll down under my dark sunglasses, I discreetly swipe it away. It’s been five days since I said goodbye to my Giuliano…five days of unimaginable sadness.
I’ve never experienced a darkness like this before where I imagine my death and the peace it would bring me.
Us.
At least then, the hurt would stop…and he could move on.
I wonder what would be the least painful way to die? Anything would be better….
Antonio’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Is everything alright, Miss Ferrara?”
“Yes,” I lie, I keep looking out the window, I haven’t made eye contact with him all week.
“You just don’t seem yourself, did something happen in Ibiza?” His eyes flick up to meet mine in the rearview mirror as he waits for my answer.
Everything happened.
“Not at all.” I fake a smile at my ever-loyal guard. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“Because….”
“I’m fine, Antonio,” I say, sterner, cutting him off.
He rolls his lips and gives a curt nod and continues to drive.
Damn it, that was rude.
This isn’t his fault, but I can’t go there, I don’t want him digging around and trying to discuss my train wreck of a love life. I’m simply not strong enough to talk about it, I can’t anyway, even if I wanted to.
I try to make amends for snapping at him. “Tell me about your sister’s wedding on the weekend?”
He raises an eyebrow as his eyes stay fixed on the road in front. “Alright.”
I square my shoulders, determined to hide my feelings better. “Tell me everything.”
I’m okay through the day, it’s bedtime, I fear.
Darkness, the dreaded bearer of sadness, and like the masochist that I am, every night I do what I swear I will never do again. I put my headphones in and I cry silently in the darkness as I listen to “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston.
I picture us dancing alone in our hotel room and him smiling down at me.
The love between us.
Why do I put myself through it?
I don’t know.
But I feel like I have to get it out, because how can you be so broken inside if you don’t get to show it to anyone.
I pretend I’m okay.
I don’t speak his name, I don’t ask about him, I don’t cry, and I’ll never admit it, but even after four weeks, I feel like I’m getting worse, not better.
I hear Anna wind up her phone call to Carlo, to add salt to my already weeping wound, he and her are going rock steady, while my world is falling apart.
At least Ibiza resulted in someone’s happiness, I only wish it was mine.
I have no one to blame but myself, I knew what I was getting into when I slept with Giuliano. But I had to do it anyway.
More fool me, I deserve every tear that I’ve cried. “I’m tired,” I say as I stand. “I’m going to turn in.”
“Good night,” Anna replies as she sits on the couch, she looks me up and down. “You’ve lost a lot of weight.”
I glance down at myself. “Have I?” I know I have, I’m skin and bone. Food turns my stomach. “I guess I’ve been so busy working that I haven’t had time to eat.” I shrug.
Anna’s eyes hold mine and I know that she knows. “Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh.” I smile. “Fine.”
“Are you really okay?”
“Absolutely, good night.” I walk into my bedroom and close the door behind me, I slide down it to sit on the floor, the dreaded lump in my throat returns.
I’m not okay.
I click onto my hundredth website for today, I can’t find the damn wallpaper that I want for the hotel. I know exactly what I want and damn it, why can’t I find it?
I’ve seen it a lot in the past and now that I finally want to order, it seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth.
Knock, knock sounds at my office door. I glance up to see my boss.
“Hi.” I smile. “Come in.”
“Hi, Francesca,” he replies, he comes and sits down at my desk. “How’s it all going? I’m hearing great things.”
“Awesome.” I smile proudly. “Busy.”
“Francesca,” Tony says from the door. “That tile that we used on the Murdoch job, do you remember the name?”
“Blackbird in matte.”