“Oh. You heard about that.” I’m picturing an explosion when someone told her. Followed by a nuclear winter. It might have been good to be unconscious for that.
“I had some things to say to Gio about that, I can promise you. And that sham ceremony is absolutely not a real marriage. But I’ve watched the way he’s been these past two days.”
I’m a little afraid to ask. “How has he been?”
“He’s been outside the room nonstop since you’ve been in here. He won’t even leave to eat or shower. He’s a mess. But he won’t come inside the room either.”
As much as I love my sister, I’m honestly a little disappointed not to find him here. “Why not?”
“I think…he thinks he’s responsible for what happened to you.” A delicate flush paints Honor’s cheeks. “I might have said that to him, actually. Repeatedly.”
I can imagine. “I want to see him.”
Honor studies me. “Are you sure? Because if you’re afraid of him, or if you just don’t want to see him for any reason, you don’t have to. You don’t owe him anything.”
She’s such a fierce protector. I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “Thank you for that. But please. I want to see my husband.”
*
I first met Giovanni as an eighteen-year-old boy, with lean muscles and beautiful eyes.
Then I saw him again as a grown man. His chest and shoulders had filled out with muscle. He seemed taller even though that shouldn’t have been possible. The biggest changes were the hard angles of his face—and the harsh scars on his back.
When Giovanni walks into the bedroom, he’s aged ten years.
There’s a beard growing on his face, in only two days’ time. His eyes are bloodshot, rimmed with red. His clothes hang rumpled on his large frame.
He approaches the bed the way a man faces his execution. “Clara.”
I reach for his hand. After staring at it for a beat, he takes it. His hand is cool and dry, loosely framed around mine. “Are you okay?” I ask, hesitant.
His lip quirks in that familiar way. “I think that’s my line.”
Some relief fills me to hear him sound normal. “I’m okay. Or I will be, once I have a test-tube shot.”
“A what?”
“Green. Lime green. Never mind.”
He looks away, his jaw clenched. “Clara. I want you to know, I won’t hold you to the vows. Obviously they weren’t real.”
My heart clenches, and I don’t think it’s only the throbbing in my shoulder. I try for levity. “Is this because my sister’s scary?”
He gives a short laugh. “She is. But I decided you had to go before you were taken.”
A dark shadow settles over me. “Because of what I told you.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”
He runs a finger across my cheek. “I look at you like you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met. It’s an honor knowing you.”
“That sounds like a goodbye.”
“As soon as you’re healthy enough to travel, you can go back home.”
“But your mother…”
“I’ll keep looking for her one way or another.” His smile is sad. “Having you would solidify my standing with the family…but the truth is I took you for myself. Because I wanted you. I wanted you the entire time, and in a moment of weakness, I let myself have you.”
My eyes prick with tears. “Gio.”
“I know I should apologize for that, but I’m not sorry for that. I’m only sorry I have to let you go.” He pulls his hand away, leaving me bereft.
He turns away, showing me his broad shoulders. Both my sister and Gio called me strong today, but I don’t feel strong. All my life I’ve used my art to express my hopes, my dreams. And now I’m watching my greatest hope walk away from me.
“Wait,” I whisper.
He stops at the door without turning.
He’s only a few feet away, but it may as well be miles. I’m locked in a castle, and he’s on the outside. Except that was the past. He says the boy he was is dead, but I think that princess is gone too. I’m someone else now. Someone who can fight for what she wants, for who she wants.
“I want to stay.”
There’s a pained pause. He turns to face me, his expression unforgiving. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I drugged you, Clara. I held you captive. I know you may have softened toward me at the end—”
“Fell in love with you,” I say softly.
He flinches. “That’s not possible.”
“I think there could be a million different incarnations of you, and I’d fall in love with every single one.”
He’s almost vibrating with tension, a man at the end of his rope. “God, Clara.”
“So I want to stay with you.” Some of my confidence falters. He’s not the only one who changed. I’m not the girl he knew before. “Unless you didn’t fall in love with me.”