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Santorini is knownfor its picturesque white walled villages and blue domed churches. Seeing it in person was something else. This land a volcanic island with a history of repeated eruptions. Lorenzo and I walked barefoot through the black pebbled sand of the Perivolos as the crystal-clear cyan water splashed against our feet. The evening sun was already setting, turning the blue sky a shade of lavender and rusty orange. The ocean air swirled in a temperate breeze of night blooming jasmine around us.
“It was amazing being a part of an active dig. It really made me think about looking into getting my master’s degree after I am done in Verona,” I say.
“Are you leaving Italia?” He asks, concern hitched his voice with a crack.
“I have to go back to Florida for my Da, and I can’t process what happened to my family here. There’s so many secrets, but I don’t know if I ever want to find out the truth,” I say, my emotions bubbling to the surface.
“Amore, I know that what you have discovered here is not for your faint of heart and knowing that I have contributed to that pain is something I will not take lightly,” he says, his head hanging down refusing to meet my eyes.
“Enzo,” I plead.
“I want you to stay. I know it’s selfish of me, amore. I know that you have a life ahead of you and you have your family, and you also have Finn, but I want you to stay,” Enzo says, breathless.
“Enzo, you ruined me for other men,” I say, my pinky finger grazing across his hand.
“I only want my name screamed from your lips,” he says, his hand holding mine softly.
Self-doubt entered my thoughts like a sudden rainstorm.
Finn and Lorenzo were good looking men. They were sex gods in their own right. I was a bookworm girl with curly hair and a bad Irish Italian temper duo. I didn’t fit into the society’s exception of what a partner should look like befitting these godly men.
I drop my hand from his and run my palm across my forehead before releasing a deep breath from pursed lips. He looks at me through narrowed eyes. His confused gaze immediately brining tears to my eyes.
“I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you want to be with me. Look at me. Look at you,” I say, shrugging off my sudden insecurities.
“Look at you,” Enzo says pointedly, his hands wrapping around my cheeks to gaze at me focused into my eyes.
“You have the body of a god, and I have rolls and thick thighs and my stomach is not flat,” I say, tears running down my cheeks.
Wiping tears off my skin with his thumbs, “Look at me, I don’t ever want you to compare yourself to anyone. Your body is your body. I am attracted to you because in my eyes I see absolute perfection. I want you. I need you, princessa,” he says, before gently placing his lips against mine.
I tasted the salt from my tears against our lips. He reaches down and grips his hand in mine before pulling me closer to him. He nods in the direction towards our hotel, and we continue walking through the quiet waves across our feet.
This side of Lorenzo is the man I fell for. The way he sees me. My flaws were non-existent to him. These two men truly were my heaven and hell.
* * *
As I walkedout onto our private deck, Enzo trailed slowly behind me. The entire deck covered in strings of clear globed lights. The teal-colored water inside of the infinity pool filled with lit floating candles and white anemones. The breath catches in my throat with a deep gasp. I have never seen anything so breathtaking. I turned to face the man standing stoically behind me. His back against the patio door.
“You did this?” I ask.
“Do you like it, amore?”
His fingers tease under the straps of my maxi dress, setting my skin on fire.
“Enzo,” I whisper.
His face wincing in discomfort, “Amore,” he pleads.
“I’m sorry, I know you don’t like me calling you that. I don’t know why,” I say, my gaze pressing pointedly in his direction.
“Amelia, drop it,” Enzo says sternly, pushing my body away from him.
Drop it?! Absolutely not!
I spun around on my feet and grabbed his forearm with a firm grip. His gaze avoiding mine and releasing an annoyed breath away from me.
“No, you owe me an explanation,” I say.
“I don’t owe you shit!” he yells.
“You owe me fucking everything! I followed you blindly across Italy. The things I let you do to me,” I exclaim, my voice cracking.
“My wife was the only one who called me Enzo,” he whispers.
I choke at the emotion caught deep in my throat. His eyes cloud with tears, but quickly shakes his head to stop them from coming down his face.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe.
“Stop,” he warns.
“What’s her name?”
“Elisabetta,” he whispers sorrowfully.
“What happened to her?” I ask, my pointed gaze in his direction as he avoids my eyes.
“She drowned,” he says quietly.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my hand covering his bicep comfortingly.
“Can we talk about something else?”
