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ChapterNineteen
THALIA
The horses have left for San Giovanni in Italy, and Francois and I have some downtime whilst they make their trip, so we’ve decided to island hop to Ibiza where my brother is vacationing with his girlfriend on our family’s yacht. My sister has decided to join us, giving me the perfect opportunity to talk with her and ask her what’s going on. She hasn’t been her usual, bubbly self lately.
My parents are flying back to New York where they will be for a couple of weeks before flying to Italy, where they will spend time with my grandparents and watch me compete in The Adriatic tour. After getting really good results in Spain, I’m pumped for Italy and can’t wait to get started.
As always, my thoughts drift to Theo. I wonder if he would be proud of me and the showjumper I’m becoming. If he knows everything I’m doing and that I’m achieving, it all for him.
“I can’t wait to do nothing for a few days,” Francois sighs across the aisle from me. We are on his parent’s private jet and will land in Ibiza shortly.
I roll my neck to face him. “It will be nice. I haven’t seen Evan properly in months, so I’m excited to see him.” My sister chuckles behind us. I turn to face her, eyebrow raised in question. “What?” I ask when she doesn’t say anything.
“Only you would miss our asshole brother.” She rolls her eyes before her gaze moves to a stern-looking Bishop who is next to an even more stern-looking Greg.
“What’s he done now?” I ask.
She shakes her head, her gaze bouncing between me and her bodyguard. “Nothing,” her voice shakes with that one word, and I wonder what the hell is going on. Instead of asking her now, I file the questions away for later. When I can get her alone and ask her in private.
* * *
Breathing in the ocean air, I smile. I need this. Time with my siblings and the freedom the ocean always seems to give me. My heart stutters in my chest, sadness taking over when I wish Theo was here beside me, experiencing this. Why is life so unfair?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the life I live but why is it that the one person I want more than anything, I can’t have? Why didshetake him away from me?
“Drink, my favorite girl?” Francois rasps in my ear making me startle. He chuckles placing down a fruity looking drink on the table. I look around at the absolute luxury we’re staying on. A Benetti B. Now 66M Oasis. Italian, of course. My mama’s choice, which my father named after her.
The Elena.
Cliché, I know but it’s just another way for him to show his love for mama.
“What is it?” I ask, eyeing the yellowy orange drink.
“That, my love, is a fruity vodka concoction. Now drink up. You look sad and I don’t like it.” He eyes me knowingly.
I sigh as emotion grips me. “I miss him,” I whisper around the lump in my throat.
Francois’ eyes soften and he wraps his arms around me, his face going to the crook of my neck where he buries it and inhales. “I know, darling. I know. But you have me. And I will never leave you.”
I chuckle on a sob. “I love you but it’s not the same Franny. When will my heart heal? When will this all-consuming need for him stop?”
He squeezes me harder. “It might never go away and it’s a good thing if it doesn’t. Beautiful actually.” I pull back with a frown. How can it be a good thing, living with this pain? He smiles. “It’s beautiful because it means that your love for him was real. This pain that lives inside you is him and your love. Maybe you need that reminder even if it hurts. Because no matter where you go or who you move on with, you will always remember the man you gave your heart to, even if he can’t be yours.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I sputter a laugh.
“I know, but it sounded good in my head.” He chuckles before he’s cut off by the sound of our names being called. We look over the deck to find two people on a jet ski, one with a large camera in hand pointed straight at us. Shit.
Paparazzi.
Always wanting their next story. Francois flips them the finger as I laugh and turn away from the vultures.
“Jesus, why can’t they leave us alone? I can only imagine what they would be like if they knew the real story,” Francois snorts, then takes a sip of his drink.
I grimace. Yes, I can only imagine. Me and the ‘married man’ and Franny the gay prince. The tabloids would go wild. I can only be thankful this is the story they think is true.
* * *
“So, you’re off to Italy next, little sis?” my brother asks over a dinner of seafood and steak. Valentina sits to his left, Aria to his right, and Francois and I face them. His eyes narrow on Franny, searching for what, I’m not sure. Evan knows Francois is just a friend, which is why he tolerates him. There’s no way he would allow him here on a vacation with us if he thought for one minute we were sleeping together.
