Racing the Sun(90)
I raise my hand, cutting him off, and start walking away. “It doesn’t matter. I need to lie down. You’ve been gone for too long.”
“I know,” he pleads. “I know, I know, but some things can’t be helped.”
I give him a tired look over my shoulder. “And some things can be helped.” I walk up the stairs and he follows me.
“Derio,” I say to him as I go into the room, ready to close the door on his face. “I really need to be alone right now. Please.”
“Okay,” he says softly, and I can tell the twins are poking their heads out of the room. I don’t look at them. “I love you.”
I only smile at him in return and close the door, locking it.
Then I collapse onto the bed and cry myself into a long, deep sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I haven’t seen Derio for a week.
It’s now the end of September and Capri has become bearable again. The streets aren’t crowded, the sun is warm, and the air sparkles with new clarity. There are still tourists at Dior and Louis Vuitton and all the restaurants are still open but there is a peace to the island now. If my own heart weren’t breaking, I think I’d fall in love with Capri all over again.
But that isn’t the case. My heart is breaking, slowly, degrading like the ancient ruins. There is a wedge between me and the twins, something I bet I could repair if I tried. But I haven’t tried. I’m still licking my wounds over Annabella’s words, still scarred by the experience with Alfonso. I know it’s all part of parenting and that kids get into fights and say hateful things all the time. But I am not their parent. That much is clear.
Derio has talked to them. He has assured me that I have done nothing wrong. He even made them apologize, and I know the twins meant it. I know they don’t mean me any harm. But I just don’t care anymore. There’s a wall going up around me that’s deflecting everything that comes my way, good or bad. It’s keeping me numb, which is preferable at the moment.
Unfortunately, Derio comes with the good or bad and I am growing numb to him, too. I’m tired of being overworked, tired of missing him. I know the racing brings him joy and I know he’s doing really well as he gears up for his first race. True to his word, he is taking things slowly and the race, which is in three days, will be low-key, at least compared to the competitions he used to be in. He doesn’t even seem to mind competing at a lower level.
But while he’s all smiles, I have none. I want to see him happy, I do. In fact, if it weren’t for his happiness, I wouldn’t be here at all. It’s just that I wonder how much unhappiness I can take before it starts to matter. When should I put my needs first? It feels like I haven’t for a while but I’m worried what it will mean if I do.
The truth is, I’m lonely. And there is nothing worse than being lonely in a big house, with responsibility at your feet, while the man you love is out there pursuing his passion. And you’re left alone to forget about yours.
It doesn’t help that I’m in a foreign land, a place that I can’t call home. It also doesn’t help that the only friend I had on the island has left, heading for Norway. It doesn’t help that some nights, like tonight, I drink alone on the patio, staring at the empty sea, waiting for my phone to ring, for a text to come in. But he’s been so busy; they’re few and far between.
Shay was right. There is a breaking point for me. I feel like I’m tiptoeing along it, high-wire, above a fathomless drop. One false move, one overreaction, and I’m gone.
Sometimes you might not even see the push coming.
Tonight, I’m out on the patio, draining another glass of wine with a cat that isn’t really my cat and waiting for my prince to show up. He should have been here an hour ago, when the ferry docked. He was to come home for one night, just to see me, before heading off to prepare for the race. I’m supposed to go with him while the twins stay with Gia’s mother, Signora DiFabbia.
Even though I’m nervous about the race, I’m looking forward to it like nothing else. The night after, I can finally be alone with him, I can finally have him. He’ll be mine and just mine. And then I will slowly, carefully, break to him how I’m feeling and how I can’t go on like this. I don’t want to leave him or the twins but there has to be another way, an easier way, for everybody.
Derio does love me. I know this. At least, I knew this. He will have to listen. He will have to understand. As long as he’s on board, we can work through this.
I contemplate bringing it all up with him tonight but I’m feeling a bit emotional thanks to the wine and the vast emptiness of the blue dark around me. I just want him home, I want to collapse in his arms and I want his sweet words and steady resolve to bring me back around. I want to stop being numb and start letting him in again, to return to the way things were before we became emboldened by love.