“I’ve never, and I meannever, brought a woman here. I never planned to bring anyone but you here. I didn’t want my mother to decorate because I always hoped that one day you would. As for women I’ve fucked, well, the answer would surprise you, but know this, Isabella. Ever since you’ve come back into my life, I’ve been celibate.” At the sound of my sharp intake of breath, he chuckles. “That’s right, Iz. It has only been me, my hand, and sweet memories of you and your body keeping me warm at night.”
He places a soft kiss on the side of my throat while his hands settle on my hips. A shiver travels down my body as I relish the feeling of his lips on my skin. I wish I could blame the buzzing in my blood on the alcohol, but the drunk feeling intoxicating me now is uniquely Gio. He’s the only person who has ever been able to make me feel drunk without needing a drop of alcohol.
I open my mouth to speak, but words fail me. I want to live in this moment. I want to trust my heart and give in to my body. I want to be young and carefree like I was back when he was mine.
The only problem is my mind will not shut off. Even with the liquor I drank earlier, my mind is still reminding me of every little mistake I ever made. It still throws every time Gio has let me down in my face.
He moves away, and immediately I miss the heat of his body. He taps my hips twice before taking my hand and leading me down a hall.
“I can hear your thoughts from here. We don’t need to talk tonight.”
He stops in front of an open door at the end of the hall and gestures inside. I tentatively enter and stop at the bed. The room is sparse. There’s a huge bed taking up the middle, but otherwise the room looks empty. There is no sign this room has ever been used.
“I’m not sleeping with you.” I don’t know why I say it out loud, but I can’t stop myself.
“I didn’t think you would be, babe.” He walks to the closet I didn’t notice in the corner of the room. I watch as he opens the door to a huge walk-in closet. If the room is sparse, then the closet’s Christmas morning. What I assumed was a guest room I quickly realize is the master bedroom. Giovanni’s bedroom.
I watch as Gio walks into the closet and goes to an old dresser I recognize from our youth. All around him, suits are hung up. On one side, there is a wall of shoes, ties, and watches. Then in the back corner, the one thing that seems to be unique. Personal. The one thing that identifies the closet as Giovanni Catalini rather than a random soldier of the Italian mafia.
I walk closer and lean in the doorway as I watch him root through one of the drawers. My eyes immediately find what they are looking for.
“What are you doing, Gio? You’re going to get in trouble!”
I’m sitting in the computer chair in Giovanni’s room while he kneels next to his dresser.
Just like every other time he laughs, I get caught up in the melodic sound.
“It will be worth every ounce of trouble.”
I slap his shoulder, mindful of the knife in his hand.
“Stop. Your mother is going to hate me when she sees this.”
“Don’t you worry about her. She rarely comes in here anyway.”
“Why are you defacing your dresser?”
He stops what he’s doing and sets the knife down before turning to me. He places his hands on my knees as he leans in close.
“Because I want to. Because I want to look at it every day. Because it’s just a small token of the feelings I harbor in my heart for you. Because every time I want to feel close to you, I can run my fingers over it and maybe, just maybe I will feel our love seep into my bones. Because I love you with all my heart and soul, Isabella Emilia Dellaco.”
Gio turns and holds out a shirt, but he pauses as he takes in the unshed tears in my eyes. He follows my stare to the dresser where “Giovanni loves Isabella” is carved into the wood. The declaration of his love for me so proudly displayed right here for my eyes to feast on.
He reaches his hand down and rubs his fingers over it like he has done a million times before.
“You still have it?” I whisper.
His eyes meet mine with confusion. “You thought I wouldn’t?”
“It’s an old dresser, Gio. Why would you keep it? Buy a new one.”
“Do you remember what I told you that day?”
“Every word,” I say without hesitation.
A small smirk plays on his lips. “That hasn’t changed. I still look at this every single day. I still touch it and feel the love we shared. How could I get rid of it?”
The emotions inside me are threatening to cause turmoil throughout my mind, body, and soul.
