November Sun, page 17
His life was in Brescia now, starting over in a new city, but more importantly, his life was with Gina, or at least he hoped it was the start of something more solid.
As he was about to go and get himself another bottle, a tall and thin beauty, the type he would have made a play for once-upon-a-time, stopped as she walked by and examined him from head to toe. Her gaze traveled ever-so-slowly across his body, her lips spread into a slow and appreciative smile. It was going to be that sort of evening and he wasn’t interested. He flicked his hand, still holding the beer bottle, and signaled for her to move out of his way. It was a rude and dismissive gesture and he didn’t care one bit. “Do you mind?” He shouted, over the noise of the music, “You’re blocking my view.”
She threw him a look full of contempt and stormed away, leaving him to ponder once more the rashness of his decision to come here. He had thought that when he had arrived at Emilio’s apartment earlier, and he thought it once more now.
Gina had always said he was spontaneous, that he did things without thinking them through, and he wished he’d had her capacity to take a step back, to breathe, to weigh up things slowly instead of diving straight in.
He wished she were here, or him there.
As he observed the people on the dance floor, he could just about make out Leon. The girl he was dancing with had her hands all over his butt. No prizes for guessing how his night was going to turn out. He still didn’t understand why Leon hadn’t said anything to him on the train journey, about his ex getting engaged. But the news shone a light on his friend’s recent behavior with women.
He glanced at his watch, eager to make a move but forced himself to give it another hour.
“What’s wrong with you?” Emilio shouted, walking towards him.
“I’m not in the mood,” he shouted back, over the pumping music. That was one of the things he hated. How the hell were you supposed to have a conversation in a place like this?
Emilio motioned for them to go and sit down on one of the sofas at the far end. Christian followed, and decided not to move from this spot until his time was up. It was quieter here, slightly back from the main area with the dance floor still in sight.
“What’s wrong with you?” Emilio asked, brushing something off his pants as he sat down. “You come to my party and you look like you’re at a funeral?”
“Sorry, I’m still recovering from last week’s bike race,” he lied.
“The hell you are.” Emilio wasn’t buying it. “He looks like he’s recovered.” Emilio jutted his chin towards the bar where Leon and his dancing partner had now moved to. Leon had his tongue rammed down his partner’s throat. Christian looked on in dismay. That’s what it felt like, the pain of trying to forget.
“He’s used to it,” exclaimed Christian. “And so he should be, he’s raced for years. This was my first race.”
“Whatever.”
Their conversation seemed stilted now that it was just the two of them and it made Christian think that he was more out of place, more disconnected with these people that he had at first thought.
It would have been so different if Gina had been here. This wouldn’t have been her preferred type of night, but she would have been up for making the most of it. He was reminded of Trussardi, the bar where he had convinced Gina to go when she had been a student on one of his courses, where they had learned to salsa dance and Gina had stepped out of her comfort zone and joined in.
It had been the first of many times that she had surprised him.
He fumbled, trying to think of something to say, when a woman tumbled onto Emilio’s lap, her mouth sealing on to his for the longest kiss ever. It was only when they parted that he saw it was Rachele.
She turned to him, her lips moist, her eyes sparkling. “Hi, Christian.” She slid off Emilio’s lap and onto the sofa beside him.
They were together?
“Hi, Rachele.”
“This is a surprise.”
“Likewise.” The element of shock still held him frozen. It wasn’t that he had any feelings for Rachele, but the idea that Emilio was with her and hadn’t said anything to him, surprised him.
“He looks lonely doesn’t he?” said Emilio, suddenly speaking up. “His girlfriend couldn’t make it.”
Rachele’s hand snaked around Emilio’s waist as she leaned into him possessively, making there be no doubt that they were very much together. “He doesn’t look too happy,” she said. “She didn’t come?”
Christian stared at her, saying nothing then turned away, once more wishing Gina had been here. They would have stayed a couple of hours and then left, and probably walked around Rome, or gone for an ice-cream, or sat on the Spanish Steps. Anything but stay here in this dark, dingy little club.
A Saturday evening curled up on the sofa with Gina was a thousand times better than this.
He couldn’t let her push him away. He’d messed up with that whole Nico episode, but it didn’t have to become more than it already was. He didn’t have to listen to her when she told him to go. He should have stayed and demanded they resolve their problems. He should have apologized for having that outburst with her boss, instead of feeling put out that she had sided with Nico over him.
“More guests,” said Emilio, looking over at the entrance where a group of people had appeared. He waved at them, but they didn’t see him. Extricating himself from Rachele’s arm, he got up and made his way towards them, leaving Rachele gazing at him.
“So, where is she? Your girlfriend?” She got up to sit by him, her body an inch from his and the overbearing, suffocating, possessive closeness of it making him shift away a few inches.
“She couldn’t make it. Her mother’s ill.”
“Are you sure you’re not making excuses?”
At first he didn’t understand what she meant. Until he did.
“It’s not an excuse,” he replied. “This was supposed to be our dirty weekend.”
His reply had the effect of muting her. After a few seconds, she said, “You’re still looking good. A little thinner, but still good. Great, in fact.”
He nodded.
“How’s it working out for you, over there?”
“Great.”
“Emilio said you were in a race recently.”
“I was.”
“He said you work in Milan.”
“That’s right.”
“You looked shocked just now. Didn’t you know about me and Emilio?”
“No.” Then after a while. “Nice display, by the way.” Because it had been, the way she had thrown herself onto Emilio’s lap and kissed him, knowing full well that Christian was watching. Although the lighting was dim, it was still enough for him to catch her tight expression.
When her hand moved slowly over his thigh, he picked it up with two fingers and moved it away. She still looked like a teenage boy’s wet dream, all womanly curves in all the right places, but she did nothing for him now. Even before, she hadn’t done much except satisfy a base need. They had both used one another for that one purpose, though it was clear that she had hoped for another outcome from their liaison.
Sometimes he had wanted more than just a physical coupling; he had wanted an emotional connection.
Rachele was overflowing breasts, all on show, no secrets, nothing left to the imagination, all there on a plate for the taking, transparent as a sheet of glass, no mystery, no intrigue, but plenty of drama. Gina was none of those things and he loved her more because of it.
With Gina he had it all; love, intimacy, a connection of minds, hearts and souls. Just by looking at her he would know what sort of day she’d had, and when it was a tough one, he knew how to make it better. And she—she filled in all the cracks and spaces of his emptiness. Which was why this was insanity, sitting here alone in a club with a woman who would let him take her in the washroom if he suggested it to her right now, even knowing it was her boyfriend’s birthday, she still would.
“Does Emilio …” He coughed, not knowing how to put it, “do you and him have the same deal we did?” His desire to know was based purely on curiosity.
Her face crumpled. “He cares about me.”
He had to set her straight. “I cared about you. I just didn’t think what we had was going to work long-term.”
“We never talked about long-term.”
He coughed again, trying to find his escape, trying to extricate himself gently from this conversation he wished hadn’t started in the first place. “What we had wasn’t a long-term type of thing, was it?”
She shuffled closer and he was conscious of her breast rubbing up against his arm. “It could have been,” she whispered into his ear.
He moved away. “I’m in love with someone else now and you’re with my friend, why are we even having this conversation?”
“You love her?” Rachele’s face fell. “How do you know it’s love?”
“Because the entire time I’ve been here, all I can think of is her.”
He’d been an idiot himself especially looking back on what he and Rachele had had back then in Rome. The type of relationship a woman like Gina would find difficult to understand. Although she knew about it, and they never talked about it now—there was no need to—he knew it had shocked her. As well it should, but perhaps that was part of the problem? It went hand in hand with what she always accused him of, jumping into things too soon and acting on the spur-of-the-moment. Maybe she didn't trust him? Maybe she didn't fully realize the depth of what he felt for her? It was his fault for not fully grasping how complicated she was. He used to think she wore her heart on her sleeve, but he realized now that she hid things under layers of doubt and self-preservation. That what Gina said and what she did at the surface level were not necessarily accurate reflections of what it was she felt inside.
That she could sometimes be her own worst enemy. That she was a master self-saboteur.
As he saw the sadness in Rachele’s eyes, he was able to gauge first hand, how the blow to her was as harsh as him finding out the same about Gina. He didn’t believe there was any truth in what Leon had said, about Nico and Gina having something, but the depth of Gina’s devotion and loyalty for her boss made him uncomfortable, jealous even, even when he knew in his logical mind that there was no reason for him to feel this way.
He reached for Rachele’s hand, wanting to give her a shred of comfort. “I don’t want to hurt you, I never meant to hurt you.”
“You two have some unfinished business going on here?” Emilio asked, suddenly reappearing.
“No.” Christian pulled his hand away, quickly. He didn’t want a scene.
“You sure about that?” Emilio’s hard eyes pierced into his.
“Sure.”
“You okay, babe?” Emilio reached out his hand and pulled Rachele to his side, holding her tight against him. She dropped a kiss onto his cheek. “Come and dance,” she said.
“In a moment, babe.” He gesticulated towards the dance floor, indicating for her to go, and as she walked away, Emilio stared at him.
“Nothing’s going on.” Christian insisted.
“You sure about that?” Emilio asked.
“Positive.”
Emilio stepped towards him and sniffed. “No hard feelings? I know you and her had—”
Christian stopped him short. “No hard feelings.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you. Didn’t seem like the right time earlier in the apartment.”
“There are no hard feelings.” Christian insisted. “Rachele and I were over a long time ago.”
Emilio punched him lightly across the stomach. “You’re happy, I’m happy. That’s all that matters, right?”
He nodded.
His place wasn’t here. He’d failed Gina, because he had listened to her. He should have known better. He could listen to her, he could let her try as much as she wanted, to push him away, but he didn’t have to let her win. He could be as stubborn as she was.
“I’m going to head back to my hotel,” he said, shaking Emilio’s hand.
“If it was nothing, why are you leaving?”
“I feeling kind of out of place without my girlfriend.”
“You gone all soft on her?”
Christian shrugged. “I’m not in the mood for celebrating tonight.”
“Maybe we can catch up over lunch or something tomorrow?” Emilio suggested. “Nesta is hosting a big Sunday brunch, lunch type of thing at his place. He told me to make sure you come. He’d like to catch up with you.”
“Isn’t he here tonight?”
Emilio shook his head. “He’s flying in tonight from a business meeting in Monte Carlo.”
But Christian had plans to catch the early train back. “Next time. We’ll come back, and I’ll bring Gina with me.”
“Suit yourself.” Emilio patted him on the shoulder and walked towards the dance floor. Over his shoulder, waiting for him on the dance floor, was Rachele, watching them. Her eyes met his across the crowded river of people.
Christian turned away.
Wrong place, wrong crowd, wrong woman.
Chapter 29
“But you said she was responding well to the new antibiotics?” asked Gina when a nurse arrived to take their mother for some more X-rays.
“Your mother seems to have contracted a secondary infection in her left lung,” the doctor explained. “There’s nothing to worry about.” But if she was hoping to reassure them, she hadn’t.
“But why has it spread?” asked Gina, horrified.
“Sometimes, these things happen. We need to determine what type of infection it is and then we can treat it. She has responded well to the primary infection, and I see no reason why this should be any different.”
Gina called Mimi and told her to come to the hospital straightaway, the full cup of frothy coffee she had bought on her way in, now stood still untouched on the small cabinet next to her mother’s empty bed.
Killing time, she listened to Christian’s voicemail which he’d sent last night. She’d been too shattered by the time she had arrived home last night to reply to all of her messages and had woken up to more this morning.
She started to listen to them in date order, oldest one first, but there was so much background noise that she couldn’t hear it properly. It sounded like music, as if he was out somewhere. Perplexed, and unable to hear a thing, she cycled through the texts and various messages telling her that he loved her, that he was sorry, that he missed her. That he was returning home tomorrow and needed to see her.
Tomorrow?
She checked the date of the message. He’d sent it yesterday.
Already on edge and with one eye on the door waiting for her mother to return, she called him back.
“Hey,” he said, sounding surprised and happy at the same time.
“I couldn’t hear your voicemail,” she said, sharing none of his happy outlook.
“I’m glad you called. It’s good to hear your voice again.”
“Things weren’t going too well, last time we met.”
“I know. I’m sorry, that’s what I—”
“I’ve read all your texts,” she said, interrupting him. “I get it. You’re sorry.” She looked at the door, hearing voices outside and wondered if the nurses had brought her mother back from her X-rays.
“You sound distracted,” he said, as she opened the door and peered outside. “How’s your mother?”
“She’s okay. You said something about returning home today? Where are you?”
“In Rome. I’m going to leave in about—”
“You went to Rome?”
Silence, then, “Yes.”
“To the party?”
“Yes.”
He’d gone to Rome while she’d been dealing with her mother’s illness? “You told me to leave, Gina, the other day at your work place when you were so mad at me. You didn’t even give me a chance to explain.”
“So you decided to go to Rome?” Her heart sank slowly, and along with it, her confidence in the man she thought she loved.
“You told me to go, you said I embarrassed you. What was I supposed to do?”
Be here for me, regardless.
She couldn’t comprehend that he had gone, with her mother ill, and things the way they were between them and it obviously hadn’t mattered to him what she was going through. She closed her eyes, feeling as if she had more confirmation that Christian Russo only cared about himself.
“I would have preferred to stay with you.”
She snorted.
“It’s the truth. I wish I hadn’t come here. Even last night at the party, I missed you and wish you’d been with me.”
“My mother is ill in the hospital with pneumonia. A party is the last thing on my mind.”
“I know.” He raised his voice, surprising her with his aggression. “I never intended to go. It was you—the way you spoke to me, something set me off, like it always does when you talk about Nico.”
“The man you called a ‘lazy ass shit’,” she reminded him.
“I was wrong. Maybe he’s not so bad, at least he wasn’t at first and then we just got—”
“I don’t want to hear about it.” She stood in the corridor, waiting. Her mother had been gone a while now, and her worry was beginning to skyrocket.
“I’m catching the 10 o’clock train and I’m coming to see you. We need to fix things, Gina. We can’t go on like this. I miss you, and I hate what’s happened between us.”
She peered across the area past the nurses’ station, at the elevator doors which were opening. “I can’t. I don’t want to see you right now. I just can’t.”
“I’m not going to let you push me away.”
“You were never close enough for me to push you away in the first place.”
She heard him gasp. “That’s not true,” he said. “That’s not true at all. This is what you do all the time, Gina.” She heard the raw frustration in his voice, as if he needed to punch a wall to get his anger out. “I’m coming. I’ll be there in about three to four hours depending on which train—”
“No,” she said, vehemently. “I don’t want you here.” She was done giving in to people all the time. “I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for any of this right now. I wish everybody would understand.”
