Tessa inched the envelope closer to David’s closed hand.
“Any time today or tomorrow. After that…” she shrugged her shoulders.
David’s fingers uncurled and he took the envelope. “I’ll read it. But don’t count on my trust. Or forgiveness.”
Tessa nodded, blinking away the tears that began to cascade down her cheek. Before her tears turned into a flood, she turned and walked into the Sydney sunshine.
-39-
DECEMBER 31st
Tessa was nervous. It was twenty-two minutes after four o’clock. The sun was low in the sky, and it would officially set in another twenty-seven minutes. It would be the last sunset of the year, the pivotal moment that paved the way for the next 365 sunsets.
After saying a sweet goodbye to Russell—how many days ago?—she boarded her Quantas flight, and re-boarded her connection in Singapore and re-boarded again in Doha, and landed in Rome’s Fiumicino Airport almost thirty hours after she stepped on the first plane in Sydney.
She’d arrived in Rome the day before, December 30th, but had resisted the urge to come here until now. She’d refused to give into temptation and check the airline and hotel, though she ached to do so. And she’d dodged the clawing fear that David was back in Chicago, wishing he’d never heard of Tessa Donovan. She forced herself to make this moment, the last sunset of the year, the moment of truth.
Tessa looked at her watch, 4:29; the air was chill with the approach of sundown, and damp with the rain that had fallen earlier. But the unfriendly air didn’t keep Romans and visitors off the streets. It was New Year’s Eve. When she’d asked the concierge at her hotel for directions he had wondered why she wasn’t going to the big celebration at Piazza di Popolo. Tessa had told him she hoped to meet someone at the Trevi Fountain at 4:49, official sunset.
“Three Coins in the Fountain,” her concierge said, laughing. “Americans!”
Tessa’s lips had smiled, but her eyes had not. The concierge noticed.
“Oh. Not sure he will come?”
Tessa nodded.
“You came all the way from Australia. You are a beautiful woman. Of course he will come! After you meet, embrace, do what young lovers do, go to the party at the Piazza di Popolo and bring in the New Year with a full heart.”
Italians. Could they be any more romantic or optimistic?
Tessa clutched the bottle of Chianti. You bring the Chianti, David had once said in an email, and I’ll get the pizza.
4:32 and no David. Of course, he still had time. Didn’t he?
Maybe she hadn’t been completely clear on her invitation. She searched her mind to recall exactly what she’d written. Sunset, 4:49, at the Trevi Fountain. Nothing unclear about that.
Tessa strolled around the fountain edge, dodging children and grandparents and young couples holding hands.
4:41 and still alone amongst a throng of people.
Maybe something was wrong with the airline ticket she’d purchased him. She didn’t want to tie him down to a specific flight, so she’d bought an open ticket for the highest published fare. It should have covered any Quantas flight. Maybe all of them were full.
Tessa groaned, out loud, at the foolish excuses her mind was concocting. It was 4:48 and David wasn’t coming. Not because he had problems with the airplane ticket. Not because the invitation wasn’t clear. A tear slipped from her eye and she juggled the Chianti bottle to wipe it away.