chapter TWENTY-SEVEN
I took a deep breath, trying to stop my tears. “I have to tell you something, and it’s going to upset you. Please, if you can, let me finish before you say anything. And please believe that when I say I love you, I mean it more than anything.”
“I do believe you. I feel the love, but I also feel your fear.”
“I haven’t been completely honest with you.” I paused, scared to say the next part. “I didn’t know you, had no idea who you were, no idea what a wonderful person you are, and never dreamed I’d fall so deeply in love with you. You’re amazing, and I hate myself for what I’ve done. I want you to understand how much I hate it.
“I’m a private investigator. I went to The Chapel looking for my client’s runaway daughter. It should have been a simple case, but then I met you.”
“You told me you were in between jobs. Why did you lie?” His eyes narrowed, jaw clenched.
“I didn’t want anyone to know I’m a P.I. If the girl didn’t want her mother to find her, I figured her new friends would know that, and no one would talk to a P.I. Her mom is really worried about her, and I wanted to be as cautious as possible to avoid blowing a chance to find her. I had this strong feeling that there was more to the story than I or my client knew.”
Vittorio sat up in bed, legs over the side facing away from me, shoulders tense.
I tentatively rested a hand on his shoulder, and he jerked away as if I shocked him. I recoiled, hurt by his reaction, even though I understood it.
“I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you. But I did, and everything was so good, and you’re so perfect, I got caught up in it and didn’t know how to stop it. I’m so sorry, Vittorio. I’m so sorry.” I cried, and he said nothing. Finally, I moved. I knelt on the floor in front of him, lay my head on his knees clasping his hands and cried. “I’m so sorry. I know you must hate me now. I understand if you never want to see me again. But is there any way you can forgive me? I didn’t know what I was getting into. I wasn’t supposed to meet you, but then you found me, and I love you, and I can’t stand the thought of losing you, but if you tell me to leave, I’ll go. I’ll never bother you again.”
I dissolved into uncontrollable sobbing, and still, Vittorio said nothing. I held his hands tightly as if that would prevent him from leaving. I knew it wouldn’t. Nothing would. I didn’t deserve him.
After a while, he pulled his hands from mine, and I felt a tentative touch on my hair. I didn’t move, didn’t breathe for fear of scaring him away. Then Vittorio’s arms were around me. “I’m so sorry. I love you. Please don’t leave me,” I cried. I clung to him, still unsure if he would leave or not.
Vittorio pulled me to my feet in front of him. “Mio amore, please calm down. I will not leave you.”
“You won’t?” I looked at him with wide eyes.
“No. I love you far too much, and feel how sorry you are. I am deeply hurt, though. It will be a while before I can fully trust you again.”
“I know. I’ll do whatever I can to regain your trust.”
“I want you to tell me the full truth about yourself.”
I sat back on the bed next to him, taking deep breaths. Through my sobs, I said, “Everything I told you was true. The only part I left out was my job. When I was arrested for the robbery, Jerry, the cop on the case, saw something in me and helped me. Kevin helped, too, but Jerry hooked me up with my psychiatrist. He convinced me to go to college. I got my associate degree in criminal justice. I didn't know what to do with my life. I was so lost, so I just followed him. I was a cop for two years, but I hated it. Jerry and I had a falling out when I quit, and I haven’t talked to him since.”
“Tell me about this girl you’re supposed to find.”
“Her name is Courtney. She’s nineteen, an art student at St. Louis Community College. She made friends with some Goths and her mom didn’t like the way she changed. She mentioned a girl named Miriam, and someone named Elizabeth that her daughter seemed to idolize. I wonder if it’s the Elizabeth we know.”
Vittorio’s eyes sparked. I wondered if he knew Courtney, but wasn’t going to ask just then. Pushing him right now could make things worse.
I pulled my knees to my chest and began crying again. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.”
“You must try. If you want me to forgive you, you must first forgive yourself.”