Page 147 of The Strength Of A Woman

All I could say to her was that things would be all right, and she’d be better off if she didn’t attend the church ceremony.

She agreed to it, but I could tell she was disheartened by the whole story.

Today we made the last preparations before Callum and I had dinner.

We sleep in separate rooms at his request.

He said it was better that way.

But as I look at the beautiful lights dangling from the trees in front of our house, I feel his presence in the room.

He stops behind me and slides his arm around my waist before leaving a kiss on my head.

“How are you?” he asks, hidden in the dark.

I slide my hand over his.

“I’m fine. A bit nostalgic.”

“So am I,” he admits, holding me against his chest, looking out over my shoulder. “We had a great time together,” he says seriously in the voice he once used when he was making me think he was nothing more than an insufferable, calculated man.

“Let’s hope this won’t be the end.”

“It won’t be the end. Although things won’t be like this either.”

“How will they be?” I ask.

“Better.”

“You think?”

“I’m convinced.”

“There won’t be moreof'meeting you'in secret,” I say.

“I’m afraid not,” he says, amused.

“I loved meeting you in secret.”

“I loved that, too.”

A few moments pass.

“Any news from my grandparents?”

“No. We haven’t spoken since we met in Taormina. But they’re here. They have guests. Your aunt and her husband stay with them.”

“My aunt. Right. For sure, they haven’t missed me.”

He doesn’t comment. What else is there to say?

I don’t want to think about them anymore.

But sadly, I do.

“What if they won’t like how things turn out tomorrow?”

“They’ll have to like it. It’s no longer up to them.”