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But the painting was of my grandparents, father, and uncle. My dad had to be eighteen or so, Maurizio about twelve or thirteen.
“Surprised they kept up any reminders of him since they felt like he rejected this life.” I touched my chest at the aching sensation there, rubbing the heel of my hand in small circles. Maybe I could pretend that feeling was from something deep fried I’d eaten that wasn’t sitting well with me. It was a hard dose of emotional reality I didn’t want to confront.
“You okay?” She turned to me and reached for my free hand.
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “We should shower and get ready.” I sent one last look at my dad, the similarities between us obvious. Sometimes when I looked into a mirror, I’d swear I could see him looking back at me, too. “Let’s go.” I kept hold of her hand, and we went up the fancy marble staircase and searched for our room.
Once there and the door was shut, she let go of my hand and tossed her purse on the bed, probably worried her phone would vibrate from yet another text from her parents. They’d been calling and texting all day, searching for answers. She’d put their calls to voicemail and kept responding with generic, I’m okay and you need to relax, messages.
My mom’s reaction hadn’t been great, but she hadn’t been shocked since she’d caught us making out in her kitchen yesterday morning.
“Now this really is a fairy-tale setting.” Natalia went to the balcony and opened the French doors, revealing a view of vineyards in the distance. “It’s breathtaking.”
She was the only sight I cared to look at. “I have to tell you something.” I tried to sound nonchalant as I approached her and failed. But it was now or never. Time was running out.
Natalia faced me, her mouth tight with concern.
“To get the money, I have to propose to you at dinner,” I quickly shared.
“Oh.” She took a few seconds and nervous breaths. “And um, what happens if he finds out it’s not real? Will he demand the money back?”
“Kind of a risk I’m taking regardless, right?” But I wouldn’t have the money to give him back, so I wasn’t sure what that’d mean. I’d cross that bridge if it came to it. “I’m sorry to ask this of you. I had planned to tell you before we flew here.”
“But everything happened so fast.” She maneuvered around me and went back into the room.
“Right.” I stood in the doorway and folded my arms, propping my shoulder against the interior frame as I studied her, waiting for her decision.
She scanned the lavish room, a fairly empty space aside from a few pieces of furniture, with a modern feel, which was surprising considering the exterior of the house still looked like it belonged in the 1800s.
“We didn’t come all this way to quit now, right? But do you have a ring?”
“Fuck.” I closed my eyes. “I don’t.”
“Well, um. Maybe I have something we can use?”
I opened my eyes a few seconds later to see her crouched and rummaging through her small travel bag. “I have these hoop earrings. I think I can turn one into something that looks like a gold band. Better than nothing.”
I uncrossed my arms and went to her as she stood. I hated putting her in this position so damn much. “I’m sorry.”
“This isn’t your fault.” She shook her head. “It’s his.”
“But he proposed to you, and I don’t want this to cause you any pain.”
“I only felt relief when we broke up,” she reminded me. “And your brother’s proposal felt fake, anyway. Flashy and attention-seeking. Surprised he didn’t have a plane skywrite the message.”
That’s something he’d totally do.
But damn, when her shoulders collapsed, I took an uneasy step back, worried Anthony was somehow still coming between us.
Her guilt. Mine. However you wanted to define it. There was something there. In our way. And it fucking killed me.
My only hope was that after I bailed out my brother, there’d be nothing standing between us anymore. No more barriers in our way.
“I really don’t know what to say.” I set a hand to my throat, a bit startled at the emotions making my voice hoarse.
“I’m doing it. So there’s nothing to discuss. I just want this charade over soon so we can live normally. Or as normally as a relationship with my ex’s brother can be.” She tipped her head toward the bathroom. “In the meantime, I’m going to check out the shower. I’m betting it’s the most luxurious one I’ll use in my lifetime.” She smiled, a hint of teeth showing, so I knew it was an act. But then her eyes went over my shoulder, and her lips flatlined. “How are we going to share a bed tonight?”
I turned to look at the four-poster king-sized bed with black leather headboard. It was covered in a white comforter with too many decorative pillows. “It’s going to be a challenge to share a bed with you and not . . .” Take you in my arms and make you mine. “I’ll sleep on that couch thing,” I decided, spotting the black leather piece of furniture against the wall by the French doors.
