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After he died she tried to do what he would have wanted. She tried to follow his example, tried hard to be as good, and selfless, and kind as he had been. But she wasn’t by nature so altruistic. Not that she wanted to be selfish, but she’d had so little of her own, so little time and attention, so little emotional support that on the inside she felt downright drained. Depleted.
Scarcity.
She’d become a woman who thought in terms of hunger, who trusted nothing, was famished—starved—for more. And she hadn’t even known she’d been so starved until now when she’d had this heady taste of comfort and warmth and sensation.
And that was her terror—her need was huge. She couldn’t bear to ever be that empty and hungry again. But she wasn’t sated, not yet, not by a long shot. She was still starved, starved for more, starved for abundance and secretly it horrified her, just how great her need was.
If this time with Cristiano didn’t last, if this closeness and warmth disappeared, what would she do then?
She couldn’t let herself rely too heavily on him, couldn’t let herself become too vulnerable. She had to know that comfort—closeness—never lasted.
Her parents had loved her and they’d died. Charles, who’d loved her, died. She didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to see a pattern here. Anyone who might love her would leave or perish.
Fighting panic, Sam scooted out from beneath his arm, slipped from the bed and realizing she couldn’t find any of her real clothes, picked up one of the hotel towels still tossed over the chaise lounge in the bedroom corner and wrapped it around her.
Covered in the towel, Sam went to the living room, opened the balcony door and stepped outside. Breathe, she told herself, just breathe.
She took long slow, deep breaths until her heart stopped racing and the panic eased. She wasn’t starving now, not this moment. She wasn’t alone right now. Cristiano was just inside, in bed. Don’t anticipate the worst, she reminded herself. Focus on the moment.
Leaning on the balcony railing she looked out and around. It was the middle of the night but the city was still alive. For a few minutes Sam watched the cars and taxis below until she turned toward the ocean. Far out the horizon was dark but close to the harbor, illuminated yachts bobbed.
“Can’t sleep?” Cristiano’s voice sounded behind her.
Warmth filled her, warmth and delight. Leaning on the balcony Sam flashed him a welcoming smile. “No. My head’s spinning too much.”
“Too much champagne?”
“Too much you.”
“Impossible.” He stepped outside to stand beside her. The night had grown cool and when she shivered he wrapped an arm around her and brought her close. “I’m good for you.”
She looked up at him over her shoulder. “I was never going to get married again. This is all your fault, you know.”
“Marriage doesn’t have to be a losing proposition, Sam. Good things can happen in relationships.”
“If marriage is so wonderful, Cristiano, why did you wait until now to get married?”
“Timing.” He kissed the top of her head. “And fate.”
“So you’ve never met anyone you even considered marrying?”
When he didn’t answer immediately, she knew she had her answer. But she didn’t rush him and eventually he answered. “There was someone once, but the timing couldn’t have been worse.”
“So it ended?”
“Yes.”
“And we’re together because you got tired of waiting for the right woman to come along,” she concluded.
“No. We’re together because of fate.” He scooped her into his arms and began walking back toward the bedroom. “And now we’re together because it’s late, and I’m tired, and we’re going to bed.”
In the big bed with the soft down pillows, Sam nestled close to Cristiano’s warm chest. She’d only been with him two days and yet she already had her favorite place to be. And if she was scared, it was only because she couldn’t bear the thought of ever being without him. The last time she’d been held like this, she’d been just a child, not much more than Gabby’s age.
