She doesn't respond.
"Let's talk," I suggest.
She snorts, "So, now you want to talk? How about talking before you buy me a car?"
I smile. She admits that the car is for her. It's a good sign.
"I just wanted you to have it, but we agreed…"
"Yes, Ricardo! We agreed!" she interrupts, raising her voice again, "We agreed that you wouldn't spoil me, and you couldn't keep your promise for more than a month? Seriously?!"
I don’t answer right away, looking at her intently, trying to understand what she’s thinking.
I've never met a woman more stubborn than Angelica Sorreno. Just when it starts to seem to me that I’ve finally tamed this tiger inside her, she suddenly shows me that she also has claws as well as teeth.
"I just don't like that I'm driving a Maserati and you're driving an old Fiat," I explain after a long pause.
That's actually the real truth: I feel like she needs more than she wants to take from me, and I so desperately want to give her everything.
"So what? You decided you can break the promise if it's uncomfortable for you that I drive a Fiat? Seriously?"
Yes, seriously, I want to yell back but manage to keep silent.
"Angie, you told me I could give you a gift if it’s a special occasion," I remind her. She really said that once and now I have to figure which occasion it will be.
"Yes, Ricardo, a bouquet of flowers on a date and maybe a pair of earrings for our one-year anniversary, but a car?!" She shakes her head disapprovingly. "That's so expensive, that's too m—"
"That's nothing for me," I interrupt.
It's true. I spend twenty-thousand euros per international flight on my plane. A hundred thousand euros is just a couple of trips, only average expenses. I usually spend more in one month living in London.
"Angie, even the twins are driving BMWs—why can't I just buy you a car? It's not a big deal!"
"It is a big deal for me, Ricardo! They are your family! You may spoil them as much as you wish, but I don't want to feel like you're buying me!"
She argues so defensively, so fiercely, that I have to spill out the only words I can right now.
"But I want you to be a part of my family!"
The second I say it, she freezes in place. And now she's staring at me with her eyes wide open. She looks terrified, trying to figure out if I'm serious.
"Marry me, Angelica Sorreno." It's not exactly a question, more a demand.
I just want her to understand that everything I want in life is sitting in front of me. And now, I can only hope she feels the same way.
She doesn't say anything, and it seems that she’s not even breathing.
"Marry me and become Angelica Brandini, with all the ensuing consequences." My voice doesn’t tremble as I say it. And I’m not regretting even for a second what I just said.
Angie keeps looking at me as if she’s just seen a ghost.
"You can't be serious," she finally says, almost whispering and shaking her head a little. Her voice is trembling.
One moment she was furious, and now she’s terrified.
I know that look. I saw it in London. She's afraid of her feelings, she's afraid to say yes because she thinks that I’ll break her heart and leave for London. And the only way I can prove how wrong she is is by telling her how I really feel.
"Well, I am serious, Angie," I continue, quieter, with my gaze not leaving her eyes for a second. "You're the love of my life, Angie. Deep down inside, you know that I’m yours. There's no need to hide our feelings anymore. I was hiding from a relationship for my whole life, and I can't do that any longer. Not with you." I swallow.
The more I speak, the harder it gets for me to tell her what I want, how I really feel. She's still looking at me, motionless. Her eyes are getting wet with my every word, and it makes this all even harder.
"You don't mean that for real," she whispers, clearing her throat and taking a deep breath as if it's tough for her to say it.
What is she talking about? Of course I mean what I say. I never speak for no reason. I never say things I will regret later.
"Babe, of course I mean it," I say, leaning closer and placing my palm on her wrist. Her hands are cold, and I can feel her tremble. She doesn't pull away.
"No, you don't." She shakes her head. "You just continue to manipulate me. You do everything to tie me to yourself. And then you'll come back to London because you'll get tired of all these games and manipulations. And I'll stay here with a broken heart."
She can't be serious. No, not again. She can't just break up with me because of that stupid car.
"I love you, Angelica, more than you can imagine." This time I hear my voice start trembling. "I am not playing with your feelings, I really want to marry you…"
"Where's the ring, Ricardo?" she asks seriously, squeezing my hand in her palm. She's on the verge of crying, and it's the last thing I want her to do, but I don't know what to say.
"It's not here, but…"
"Of course it's not," she interrupts again, with a steely voice this time, "because you didn't plan this. All this. You didn't want it, it just slipped out of your mouth without thinking. Because that's who you are, Ricardo. You're a player. You'll get whatever you want in any possible way."
"What do you mean 'in any possible way'? What did I do? Is it so bad that I want you to be my wife?!" This time I'm the one who raises their voice, and I see she’s a little shocked. I’m already regretting acting so impulsively right now, but I just can't believe this woman is telling me no over and over again, trying to escape from me every single time.
"You don't want to marry me. You just want me to be yours." A tear falls onto her cheek as she says it, and she rapidly wipes it away. "That's what you want for now. You want to spoil me, to buy me cars, to promise to marry me, but what next? Is there really going to be a wedding? Seriously, Ricardo? Or will you just go back to London and continue living your own life just like it was fifteen years ago?"
"Don't say that," I whisper, and I really feel like I want to cry. "Don't you dare to say that, not after everything we've been through."
"When are you going back to London, Ricardo?" she asks, her face pale as one more tear falls down. "You can't even tell me how long you're staying in Tuscany this time. How can I agree to marry the man who doesn't even want to stay with me?"
I feel offended. I feel desperate. I feel like I want to crush something big into tiny pieces, and maybe then it would somehow alleviate this pain inside of me.
"I'll go home, Ricardo, I need to think." She lowers her eyes when she says it. "I'll drive my own car. It’s parked right here in the parking lot."
She breaks our handhold and reaches to open the door, but I lock it before she manages it.
"Don't go, Angie, don't run away." I reach to take her by the hand one more time. "Please don't leave me.”
I beg her to stay, perfectly aware that she’ll do it anyway, I can feel it.