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We veer off in opposite directions. I want a coffee—Agnes’ coffee is delicious, and I’ve already had one cup this morning, but there’s just something about getting a latte and carrying it around while shopping. I miss doing that with Clara, especially back in the days before my first failed wedding, before trips out into public started to feel riddled with the possibility of panic attacks.
I brush away that memory. Here in Italy, I’ve felt free of those fears, even if the threat of Igor’s retribution has given me new ones to replace them. But even that new fear can’t take away the pleasure of being able to, for the first time in months, go out in public in short sleeves and a pair of shorts, my hair up, hardly noticing if there are eyes on me or men ogling. So far removed from the place where all of that happened to me, it’s felt as if I left those panic attacks back in New York.
Hardly a surprise, then, that I want to stay. The thought sticks in my head as I order a strawberry and hazelnut iced coffee, getting a smaller, decaf one for Cecelia at her request, and chocolate milk in a cup for Danny. Drinks in hand, we start our shopping.
The groceries I’ll leave for last, after lunch. We look for a new pair of shoes for Danny—one of his fell off while riding one of the ponies, and got trampled—and Cecelia finds a pair of sandals that she falls in love with, made of soft white leather with leaf cutouts. “Those are going to get dirty easily,” I warn her, and she shrugs.
“I won’t wear them outside. I’ll save them for when we get home to New York.”
A pang hits my chest at that. I know Gabriel hasn’t told them about the house being burned down. It’s been less than two weeks, and with the whirlwind of the wedding, he didn’t want to give them one more thing to adjust to. I don’t know how he’s ever going to find a way to break it to them. I don’t know of any way to tell them that won’t result in them being not only brokenhearted about the loss of their childhood home itself, but terrified of what might come next.
I told Gabriel that I thought he should wait until Igor was dealt with. Until he could reassure the children that even though Igor had done this terrible thing, he would never be something they needed to fear again. And that brought up an entirely different, difficult topic—because that would mean Igor would be dead. Another delicate thing to figure out how to explain to his children.
And another thing to weigh on me, that this baggage of mine is what is costing them pieces of their innocence, their trust in the world around them. It’s being taken away from them so much sooner than it should have been. All because I came into their lives.
I can hear Clara’s voice, telling me that’s not my fault, or my responsibility. That Gabriel made the choice to bring me into their lives and let me stay there. But the guilt still weighs on me.
“They’ll be good for going out,” I tell Cecelia neutrally, blinking back the dampness in my eyes. They’re children, I tell myself, as I take our purchases up to the counter—Danny’s, Cecelia’s, and mine. Gabriel asked me to buy some riding boots for myself, and I did. They’re easily adaptable. He’ll find a new house in New York, and they’ll fall in love with it. It will be hard at first, but they’ll end up loving it just as much. They love the estate, after all. They’ve been tearing around the house and grounds for the weeks we’ve been here with wild abandon, thrilled to have the run of somewhere new. Their fear from what happened with Igor was quickly forgotten in the thrill of being in a new and exciting place for the summer.
I have to hold onto that. Otherwise, the guilt will be too much. Even if no one blames me but me.
I push it down as we head back out into the bright summer day. The air is clean and fresh, a million times better than New York, and everything feels light and airy. In the plaza, next to a splashing fountain, a man is playing violin, filling the air with soft, sweet music. For a moment, as I watch Cecelia spin in a circle, I wish Gabriel were here with us. I can picture him reaching for me the way he did on the dance floor at our wedding reception, swaying back and forth with me to the music. I can almost feel the warmth of his hand on the small of my back, the solid nearness of him, his gaze lingering on me. It almost feels real.
Just like everything else about us.
I bite my lip, heading down a side street with the kids running ahead. Cecelia stops at a flower vendor, looking pleadingly at me, and I buy one of the roses, helping her tuck it behind her ear after the stem has been clipped.
We stop at a furniture store, putting in an order for a few new pieces for the villa, and purchase some curtains and new bedding. Next door, there’s a clothing boutique that Cecelia is begging to go into, and we head inside after we’re done picking out items for the house.
I don’t need anything new. But as Cecelia grabs an armful of pretty dresses and disappears into one of the fitting rooms, Danny perched outside with a comic book, I wander over to a rack of lingerie, keeping one eye on them.
There’s no reason to buy anything like this. If Gabriel and I stick to what we agreed, our wedding night will be our last night. I ignore the way that thought makes my heart sink, reaching out to look through the lace and silk pieces instead.
It’s all incredibly delicate and beautiful, things I’ve never worn before. There’s a short nightgown made of pearl-colored silk, edged in eyelash lace that looks so fragile I’m afraid to touch it. A pair of red lace panties that tie in front with a bow, and a matching balconette bra that looks like it would push my breasts up to my chin. A dark purple velvet thong and matching corset. Piece after piece of beautiful lingerie, none of which I have any use for.
But I keep coming back to the pearl-colored nightgown, the silk iridescent in the soft lighting of the boutique. I can imagine Gabriel’s face if he saw me in this. The way he’d look at me, his eyes darkening with desire. The way his hands would feel, running over me through the silk.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach for the nightgown, taking it off of the hanger. There’s a pair of thin silk panties that match, so tiny that they barely count, edged with that same delicate lace. I take them up to the counter, quickly paying for them before Cecelia can come out and see. I don’t really want to be the one to have a discussion with her about why I might be buying lingerie.
The saleslady hands me a small bag, the lingerie folded up inside in layers of tissue. I take it, still wondering why I bothered to buy it at all. I’ll never wear it. Gabriel and I agreed—and I would never wear it for someone else. Not when I bought it thinking of him.
I realize, at that moment, that I can’t imagine being with anyone else. There was a time, at the very beginning, when I thought I was doing all of this with Gabriel so that I could eventually go out and date. So I could have a real relationship, look for the one like any normal girl.
But somewhere along the way, Gabriel became the one. And now, I can’t picture being with anyone else. Not because I’m afraid of it any longer, but because it feels impossible to imagine that I could ever want anyone other than him.
I tell myself that, eventually, that will change. That that’s always how it feels, when someone falls in love for the first time and it doesn’t work out. But I’m not entirely sure that I believe that.
Cecelia comes out a moment later, distracting me. She has three dresses that she wants, and I let her buy all of them, knowing Gabriel won’t mind. He wants the children to be spoiled this summer, and I’m more than happy to help him do it.
We go to a sandwich shop for lunch, a little cafe spot where we can eat out in the sun. I get a prosciutto and mozzarella panini with pesto, Danny gets a grilled ham and cheese, and Cecelia gets a ham panini with peach jam and pesto on it. We sit out on the patio with our sandwiches, homemade chips, and sodas, and Cecelia looks at me as she unwraps her sandwich.
“Now that you and Dad are married, are we going to have another little brother and sister?”
The question is asked so matter-of-factly that I almost choke on the first bite of my panini. I cough, taking a breath, completely caught off-guard. “I don’t think so,” I tell her carefully, my mind racing as to how to navigate this topic. In all the chaos, this is one thing Gabriel and I didn’t think of how to tackle.
“Why not?” Cecelia asks, and I can hear a note of disappointment in her voice. Danny echoes her, and I set my sandwich down, letting out a slow breath.
“Well—” I wince, choosing my words carefully. “We haven’t talked about it. And he already has both of you. I don’t know if he wants any more children. And I don’t know how I feel about it, either. I’m very happy with the two of you.” It’s the truth, but I can see that it’s not exactly the answer they wanted.
