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I run out of the garden, flying through the meadow, toward the church. I scan every inch of the rolling hills with my eyes as I go, following my gut to try and find him. No one’s here. Everyone must be seated inside the church.
Where is he?
I pause for a moment to catch my breath and think. I make my way behind the church, praying to the fashion gods Vera never finds out about the time I ran through freshly cut grass in one of her perfect white dresses.
There—behind the side exit of the church, the one that leads through the vestibule toward the altar. He’s posted himself back here, monitoring the groom’s family who have come in this way.
So he wouldn’t have to see me. Instantly, I know that’s why he’s back here. I try not to let the realization hurt me, but it does.
Badly.
The sting in my chest takes my breath away. He doesn’t realize I’m here yet. I stand, staring at him, knowing that he could have stood in front of this church and barred me from going inside. He’s looking down at the ground, fiddling with one of those gold cuff links I like so much. He brings a finger to his face. Is he wiping away a tear? No, he’s just got something in his eye. In his attempt to fix it, he sees me.
His hand drops slowly and our eyes lock.
I don’t know what I expect from him at this moment. I move toward him, then a strange thought comes over me. I’ll be getting married in a moment, I should hold up my dress or it’ll be stained at the altar. I grab the hem and proceed to walk over to him.
He moves toward me as well and I’m grateful for that. I think my heart would break just a little bit more if he stood there staring at me, detached from this moment.
Our moment.
“Paisley.” My name sounds like music on his lips. A song he’s written just for me.
We reach one another, hidden behind the big stone church. It’s just us out here, the only sound the quiet babble of the nearby creek that leads to the river. “Sav.”
He takes both my hands in his. It feels good, the memories flooding back, all the other times he’s held them. We both stare down at our joined hands, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.
Finally, he speaks. “You’re going to marry him?”
“I said I would,” I say, unsure how to close this chasm between us.
“Right. Family first,” he says. But that’s not what I want him to say.
I want him to scoop me up, carry me away from here, take me home?—
And tell me he loves me.
I think of his wound. Of how I realized that day in Anni’s cabin maybe it was him who shouldn’t be kissing me, risking his heart over me. His wound, and his devotion to the family, stopping a marriage that’s meant to make us stronger. I’m the one who needs to tell him how I feel first. I knew it had to be this way when I was standing in the turret. Still, knowing and doing are two different things.
“I said I would marry him. But all the things we’ve done together”—I squeeze his hands so he knows I’m speaking of him and not these last three days with Gio— “they have me feeling so close to you?—”
He shakes his head. “No. You’re confused. You wanted to come here. I told you what was at stake if we crossed that line. This moment, you here with me when you should be in that church, this is what I warned you about.”
His words sting. Does he not feel the same way I do? Should I leave without telling him how I really, truly feel about him?
I’ve never done anything this brave. Blinking back tears, I swallow hard. My voice falls to a whisper. “But I love you…what do I do?”
twenty-nine
Savage
I’m such an asshole. I missed my chance. I left her hanging. I let the hurt from my past ruin my future. And in my stubborn loyalty to the family I made the wrong choice.
She told me she loved me. Then she stood there, staring at me, waiting for me to do something about it. And I cowered. Doubt filled my mind. Why else did she let me take us to Italy? Wasn’t that her chance, then, when I told her our plane left at dawn?
Shouldn’t she have said, No, take me home.
Or when Giovanni demanded the wedding date be moved up, wasn’t that her time to say, No, take me home?
