“Good morning,bambina,” Massimo murmurs when he feels me stir. “I’d ask if you slept okay, but I don’t want you to lie.”
“How do you know?” I ask, glancing up at him.
“You talk in your sleep,” he sighs. “Or you did last night.”
“What did I say?” I feel a twinge of concern in my stomach. I know how bad my nightmares were, but those were in my head.
“I couldn’t make much of it out,” he answers. “I heard my name a few times, and you were trying to say something to Sarah, too. It was mostly nonsense, but I could tell you weren’t having a restful night.”
“No,” I admit, wiping my eyes. “I’m sorry if I kept you awake.”
“I slept enough,” he says, letting go of me and sitting up. “I’ll go make coffee and order breakfast. Want anything in particular?”
“No, whatever you get is fine,” I mutter, not feeling hungry at all. “I’ll be okay.”
I see the pain in Massimo’s eyes as he gets out of bed. That pain drew me to him like a moth to the flame, and now I’ve added to it, but I’ve got plenty of my own to deal with. Pain I’ll carry with me after Isola Selvaggia is out of sight—pain that will linger long after Massimo is gone.
I sit in bed until I hear the food arrive, then I drag myself to my feet and slip on a hotel robe. I see my reflection in the mirrorand nearly gasp. I barely recognize my own face. My eyes are puffy from crying. My cheeks are sunken and pale. The color on my lips is lighter, like a layer of pink has been permanently stripped away. I’ve never considered myself pretty, but I look like I’ve been through the wringer. I guess I have—emotionallyandphysically.
Massimo is seated when I step out of his bedroom. He looks almost as vibrant as ever, except for the lingering pain in his blue eyes. He’s hours from death andI’mthe one who looks like a corpse.
“Try to eat something,” Massimo says, gesturing to the breakfast spread. “Even if you don’t feel like it.”
I nod and sit down without saying anything. Maybe it was a bad idea to push the intimacy as far as I did. He seemed to understand it would make this more difficult, and now, I understand, too. But I wouldn’t change it for anything. I’ll treasure our time together and won’t let any regret fester.
I move a biscuit to my plate, break off a piece, and nibble on it. Despite the unease in my stomach, once I swallow a few bites, I feel my appetite returning. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday, so I give my body what it can handle.
“You’re not eating much,” I remark, noticing Massimo has a lot of food left untouched, which isn’t normal for him.
“I had dinner with Theo last night,” he says.
“Must have been some night,” I mutter. “Dinner… and I could smell whiskey and cigar smoke on you when you got into bed.”
“We always get together a few times when I come to the island,” Massimo explains. “If I turned him down, he would have asked questions. Easier to go than answer them.”
I shrug and keep eating. I’m not being intentionally bitter. I just can’t get over the ache inside me. So much for making his last days fun. This one is likely going to be miserable for both of us.
“Do you have to go anywhere today?” I question.
“No,” he says. “Today, I’m all yours.”
I should be elated, but the sting of what happens tomorrow just won’t let the emotion surface. I nod and finish eating my breakfast.
“I need to shower,” I say, pushing back from the table and standing before he can help with my chair.
“Want me to join you?” he asks, a half-smile tugging at the edges of his lips.
“Not today.” I shake my head, then feel a twinge in my stomach—it might be the last time I get to shower with him.
Part of me wants to ask him to join me, but I don’t. I walk into the bathroom, close the door, and start the shower. I cry a little more once I’m under the water, since I know he can’t hear me. This is so much harder than I expected it to be. Or maybe I was just fooling myself because I was in a daze like a schoolgirl experiencing her first crush.
I finally stop crying, finish my shower, and step out. I wipe the mirror down so I can see my reflection. The shower has helped some. The steam and heat eased some of the puffiness around my eyes and gaunt look in my cheeks. My lips are still pale, though.
After I’m dry, I hide what I can under makeup and lipstick, looking more like myself than I did before I walked into the bathroom. I gather what is left of my composure and steady myself. Despite all of the emotions coursing through me, I don’t want to make Massimo’s last day alive completely miserable.
I emerge from the bathroom faking my smile and doing my best to keep the despair hidden. This is my last day with Massimo. Yesterday was my day to cry. Today, I let him have another piece of my heart to break before he’s gone.
“What would you like to do today?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
