My mind goes to the image of Giuliano in the movie.
Like a sick and twisted stalker, I’ve watched it over and over this morning. The sheen on his skin, the lust in his eyes. The expression on his face as she bares her teeth as he reaches climax.
The deep ache to have him come inside of me.
Just once….
Stop it.
Just fucking stop it.
Why am I thinking such destructive thoughts?
I’ll have a perfectly wonderful life with Marcel, we will be happy and I’ll be fulfilled, and everything will be okay…except for one small detail.
He’ll never be him.
*
I sip my wine as I stare into space, miles away.
There’s one thing I know for sure.
Secrets are hard to keep.
Anna has asked me if I watched the Pornhub video, I told her it wasn’t Giuliano.
So that’s not actually a secret, it’s an outright lie.
And every time over the last two days that Marcel has asked me what’s wrong, I tell him that I’m thinking about work.
Not picturing my own brother naked.
I’m disgusting.
I need to get over this, I will not allow myself to think of Giuliano Ferrara one more time.
He’s no good…and I’m no good when I…I get a lump in my throat as emotion overtakes me.
Just once.
No.
“Surprise,” Anna’s voice calls.
My eyes dart to the foyer as I see Anna dance in. “What are you doing here?” I frown.
“I asked her to come to dinner with us tonight,” Marcel says as he steps forward. “Actually, I asked everyone to come.” I look around to my two brothers, my mother and Anna who are all standing around, actually, why is everyone in town tonight? My eyes go back to Marcel to see him down on one knee.
Oh no.
He opens a ring box. “Francesca, will you marry me?”
The air leaves my lungs.
“Well?” He smiles hopefully. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
Confusion washes over me like a wave, but I can’t…I can’t deny him in front of everyone.
I need to move on, I can’t keep thinking about that damn Giuliano Ferrara.
Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be?
Why wouldn’t he do this in private?
My eyes flick to my mother and she smiles sadly as if reading my mind.
“Well?” He smiles up at me.
He’s a wonderful man, who loves me, and who, up until five days ago when I went to that stupid funeral, I was happy with.
Even if I was going to say no, I wouldn’t do it in front of others.
I owe him that much respect.
I nod and force a smile, I watch on as he slides the ring on my finger and I stare at my hand.
My heart sinks, my life is one big colossal fuckup.
This can’t be happening.
The restaurant is busy and bustling. My family are laughing and celebrating.
I want to crawl under the table and die.
The waiter brings a bottle of the best champagne and we watch as he pops the cork. He pours six glasses and passes them out.
“A toast,” Andrea says.
We all hold our glasses together. “To a lifetime of happiness.”
“Giuliano,” Anna says.
We all turn to see Giuliano has just arrived, he’s wearing a black shirt and jeans. My heart constricts just from seeing him.
Oh no.
“Hello,” he says politely.
“Hello,” everyone replies, my mother tilts her chin to the sky, annoyed to be sharing air with him.
“I’m so sorry about your mother,” Andrea says.
“My deepest condolences,” Matteo says, they both stand and shake his hand.
Giuliano nods. “Thank you.”
Anna stands and kisses his cheek and he gives her a genuine smile. “Hi, Anna.”
Seeing him so broken and vulnerable at the funeral has opened a part of my heart to him that I thought was closed forever.
I sit, glued to the chair, desperately wishing that I could stand and kiss his cheek too.
Not being able to touch him is a torture of epic proportions.
“Join us, we’re celebrating,” Matteo, my brother, says. “Francesca and Marcel just got engaged tonight.”
Giuliano’s eyes flick to me.
Dear God.
7
Francesca
Giuliano’s eyes meet mine and I want to deny it.
Only we did, and I can’t.
His eyes turn to Marcel. “Congratulations.”
Marcel smiles broadly. “Thank you.” He puts his hand over mine on the table, “We’re very excited.” He kisses my cheek. “Aren’t we, darling?”
Giuliano’s eyes drift between us as he watches our interaction.
My heart drops and I want to die.
This is not how I would want him to find out…but then the reality is that he is nothing to me, and it shouldn’t matter anyway. My eyes flick to Anna and as if reading my mind, she gives me a sad smile and a reassuring nod.
“I’ll leave you to your celebrations, enjoy your night,” Giuliano says.
“Goodbye,” everyone calls as they sip their champagne.
His eyes hold mine for a beat longer than they should and then he turns and walks out of the restaurant.
Hang on, he only just walked in.
Isn’t he going to go and see whoever it was that he was meeting?
A tray of exotic-looking cocktails arrives and the boys and Mom all fall into conversation about them, laughing and betting on which is which.
My eyes flick to the door that Giuliano just left through.
“I’m just going to the bathroom.” I stand and pretend to walk to the bathroom and then I quickly dart out the front of the restaurant and burst out the front doors, I look left and right up the busy street, there’s no sign of him.
He’s gone.
I stare out into the darkness and my phone rings in my pocket, I glance at it to see the name Antonio.
Damn it, stop watching me.
My eyes roam over the road to where his car is parked and I give him a wave and go back inside and into the bathroom.
I sit on the toilet with my head in my hands, where did he go?
I have to see him…no you don’t.
Stop it.
I just got engaged, this is supposed to be the happiest night of my life.
Then why the fuck does it feel so wrong?
I take my time and try to get myself together and eventually, I weave back through the tables back to my family, even if I caught up with Giuliano, what would I have said?
Probably for the best that I didn’t get the chance to talk to him. Marcel hands me over a fancy red cocktail. “Here you are, we saved the best one for you.”
The table erupts into laughter and I know its code for this is the worst one. I force a smile and take a sip.
Ugg, I wince. “Tastes like poison.”
They laugh some more.
I take another sip, good. I deserve it.
I’m an asshole.
*
The sound of Marcel’s regulated breathing is calming. Like the sound of the ocean, a comforting background noise.
The sound of my heart, not so much. A million horses galloping through the forest, lost and angry.
I can’t sleep.
And what does it mean when you make love to your fiancé, but feel guilty to another man for doing it?
I have a huge lump in my throat and I don’t know if I want to cry, throw up or simply howl to the moon.
Ever since the funeral I have a monkey on my back, the grim reaper in my soul.