Page 38 of I Would Beg For You
It’s soft, gentle, and the melody continues in the same vein. Like the patter of raindrops in a shallow puddle on a warmmidsummer’s afternoon. Milliseconds of quiet weave in between the notes, adding to the lulling quality of this ethereal sound I’m hearing for the first time in my life.
It’s not a long tune, though it feels like we’re caught in an intemporal bubble as Valentino plays away, eyes closed, emotion playing on his brutally handsome features which soften to almost rapture in certain moments.
This is him as I’ve never seen him, as I’ve never even conceived of him.
This is the real Val.
It jars me when I realize the silence now is lingering, no longer the little beats in between the chords.
“It’s you,” Valentino says.
I blink at him, as if suddenly seeing him for the first time. “What?”
“This tune. It’s calledLa Fille Aux Cheveux De Lin. It’s by Debussy.”
I shake my head a little, still not getting it. “How is this me?”
“It’s French, means the girl with the flax-colored hair.”
I lose my breath when it hits me. The title, the meaning, but also the haunting melody. There’s a melancholy to it, soothing as much as it tears from the heart, speaking of longing and loss in equal measure.
“I always play this when I think of you,” he continues.
Now, I can hear that haunted feel in his voice. Everything in me yearns to take his face in my hands, to kiss his lips and murmur over and over again that I’m here—I’m always here. But I can’t.
“I must’ve played this a thousand times since that Christmas party. Every time I thought of you, of kissing you.”
My heart is breaking right now. “Then why didn’t you kiss me back?”
“Honor, gattina.”
I shake my head. “What, I don’t understand? I wanted you so much.”
“You were in high school.” He raised one eyebrow to emphasize the point.
This hits me like a slap. What was I thinking at the time? I was eighteen, yes, but he had been a grown man of almost thirty.
“And then, there was your father.”
His now hard and cold tone when he says the words wraps a vise around my heart.
“I couldn’t be like him, Naomi.”
Everything in me freezes. It feels like I lost the ability to react, let alone say anything.
But the words come out, nevertheless.
“What do you mean? What does that have to do with being like my father?”
Chapter 14 Valentino
I went and putmy foot in my mouth. Why did I have to mention that cazzo, of all people?
A sigh escapes me as I stand from the bench and reach out to Naomi. But she’s moving away from me, arms wrapped around her middle, as if warding herself against me.
I would never hurt her—she has to know this.
“Naomi,” I coax gently.
