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“That’s my line,” he muttered, lifting a hand, touching her cheek lightly so she inhaled an uneven breath and held it.
“You know,” she said, softly. “You can want me and still love her.”
A muscle throbbed in his jaw.
“It’s okay,” she said, lifting her hand and echoing his gesture, touching his stubbled cheek and then running her finger over his lip. His eyes bore into hers, looking for something, reading her.
“That doesn’t seem fair to either of you.”
Her smile was mocking. “Who told you life’s fair?”
“I thought you were an optimist?”
“I’m a realist; there’s a difference.”
“How can a realist take such joy in life?”
“Can’t you see that life is still a good and wonderful thing? Can’t you see that even more so, knowing how quickly it can be lost?”
“I don’t see the world like you do.”
“I know. I wish you would.”
They stood there, staring at one another, touching, as though something invisible had drawn them together. “They died and I was destroyed. I honestly don’t know how I kept going. It wasn’t a conscious decision at first. I just didn’t want to be around anyone: family, friends, women. I worked as much as I could, because in work I found a sense of purpose and control, but beyond that, I was alone. Often here. And then, a woman texted me. Someone I’d been with before I met Bianca. She was just checking in, but I read between the lines and knew what she was offering. I felt nauseous at the idea of touching another woman. That’s when I decided I would always be faithful to her, to us. To what we were. I’d married Bianca, and sworn to be her husband, until death do us part. Well, she died, but I didn’t. I wanted to uphold our vows.”
Sympathy stretched and pulled inside Georgia. “You don’t have to answer this,” she said, moving her other hand to his chest, pressing it to his heart, because she understood how broken it was. “What happened to them?”
His eyes closed for a moment and she wanted to take the words back. She didn’t want to hurt him. Not more than he’d already been hurt.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You don’t have to say.”
“It’s not a secret.” His voice was rough. “You can find the information on the internet, if you type in my name.”
She frowned. “That didn’t occur to me.”
He nodded slowly, but at what, she didn’t know. “They’d gone to New York for Livvie’s birthday. My daughter.” His voice cracked. “It was a big surprise—Bianca had picked out a Broadway show to take her to, and had all these plans. The only problem was that our place in New York was being remodelled, so they stayed with a friend.”
His face was ashen, but now that he’d started, he kept going. “There was a gas leak from the heater in their room. It happened in their sleep. They went to bed, and just…didn’t wake up. And you know, I kept thinking of Pompeii, because they were cuddled up together, and I knew that at least their last waking thought, their last conscious feeling, was of being loved and of loving.” He lifted a hand and pressed it to his eyes.
Georgia did nothing to stop her tears from falling. “I’m so sorry. That’s just so sad, Dante. So awfully, awfully tragic.” She pressed a kiss to his chest then, a kiss of sympathy and sorrow.
“It was peaceful. They wouldn’t have known. At least, that’s what the doctor said. God, I hope she was right.”
Georgia nodded sympathetically. She hoped so too. They stood there in silence, touching, feeling, close physically and also bonded by their grief. “Thank you for telling me,” she said, after a long time.
“I couldn’t keep them safe,” he said simply. “I couldn’t protect them. But I will do everything for our son. I cannot ever go through that again.”
Georgia sighed. She wanted to tell him she agreed, but the truth was, she didn’t. Loss was a horrible part of life, and it could come at any time, and happen to anyone. It was, most often, blindsiding, with little warning and offering no ability to prepare. But for the moment, she just wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight. He stiffened, and she’d almost been expecting that, but after a moment, he relaxed, his arms coming around her, stroking her back, as he placed a kiss on the top of her head.
Her chest fluttered and she quickly pushed away any temptation to find the contact heart-warming. It was just comfort, nothing more. She had to remember that for all they were attracted to each other, and were trying to form a friendship, this was not a relationship; and he’d never love her. Not like he loved his wife, and Georgia knew she deserved that all for herself one day.
There were some moments in life that were so perfect, they needed to somehow be bottled, and held close to your chest, near your heart, in your mind, for all time. As Georgia sat beside Dante on his sleek speedboat, with her face tilted up at the afternoon sun, just enough water splashing in towards her to break up the heat of the day, she knew she was living in just such a moment. The air rushed past them, making her hair whip around wildly, but she didn’t care. It was so freeing, so invigorating. She felt utterly, totally alive, as though the essences of existence were flooding her veins and making her conscious of the preciousness of life, particularly the life growing inside of her. Her pregnancy had not been planned, and her first reaction had been one of utter despair, but now, how could she feel anything but glad?
The day before, she’d been reflecting on the unpredictability of life, the randomness of loss, but the same could be said for happiness and blessings. She curved a hand over her stomach, closed her eyes, and did everything she could to trap this feeling, so she could look back and enjoy it anytime she wanted, but especially if she ever needed to get through another awful period in her life. Moments like these were sustaining.
Her beauty shouldn’t have surprised him anymore, but as the water glimmered behind her and the sun surrounded her like a halo, and her eyes were closed in an expression of beatific peace, Dante could only see her as other-worldly, with a rare kind of beauty that took his breath away. Her hand on her stomach pulled at an ancient primal string in his gut, a sense of macho pride and satisfaction. He’d done that. He’d put that baby there. It was his. So was she.
The thought had him jerking his gaze away, back to the water, his pulse picking up.
