It’s only when I take another gulp of ginger tea that he comes to and clears his throat.
I guess we’re both just going to act as if our moment never happened.
I set down my mug. “I’m sorry I put you in that situation with Bryce last night.”
“There’s no need to apologize.”
“For me, there is.”
Giulio stands up, but it takes a full second for him to face me. Crossing his arms over his chest proves an error as my gaze involuntarily lowers to his biceps, abdominal muscles and then that v-line for the second time this morning. I stop myself from going any further. This is not healthy for either of us.
Girl, you were pressed up against it last night.
I mentally facepalm.
“I stopped by Helena’s after taking the kids to school and picked up some clothes for you. They’re in the bathroom. It doesn’t mean work has to be in the equation today; that’s up to you. Your clothes from last night are at the cleaners and your car is at Helena’s.”
I’m mortified. “I don’t know how to thank you enough.”
“You don’t have to. I made breakfast for us. Come eat soon, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you for everything.”
Giulio flashes a warm smile before leaving, but his cologne lingers, clouding my every thought.
I finish my tea and go to the bathroom to find a neatly folded pile of my clothes, just as he promised. I bypass my reflection. After all those tears last night, I know my eyes will not be their usual vibrant color. To be honest, they haven’t been since Addilyn was in my arms.
I opt for another shower, seeing as last night’s wasn’t quite complete. Warmth streams down my body. The humid air and steamed glass doors are heavy indications that Giulio was in this same space not long ago. I used to love this sleek modern bathroom Giulio designed. It was unique and special; easily the favorite part of our house. Now I hate it. I despise the way the solitude of the room makes me feel so excluded, as if I’ve lost my place. How the gray step stool by the sink is a persistent reminder of my children. The way my heart anxiously beats at the memories of the infinite sex Giulio and I have had against these very tiles.
I want it all to stop, but it never ends. Especially not the moment I’m forced to use his bodywash as it’s the only thing I have. Last night I went overboard with it. I lather the blue substance all over me and it reconfirms I’ve erased all of Bryce’s mouth-works.
Being naked in front of Giulio last night did draw upon my vulnerabilities. I had a traumatizing labor with Addilyn. She was a breech baby. My cesarean scar is another reminder of what I’ve lost. When you bring life into the world, nothing compares to the connection between a mother and newborn. With Addilyn being stripped from me I have lost touch with what it means to be a woman. I disregard myself and never see my body as something worth praising like I’m sure other women do.
Giulio never knew this and following her disappearance I didn’t want to be touched. I didn’t want him to see me because I didn’t love anything about myself without her with us. Last night our situation caused a physical reaction. We clung onto each other as if it was life or death. It felt different. A part of me wants to say a good different.
My fingers grip the pressure changer, yet I’m incapable of switching it off when fingertips graze my hand. I gasp. Giulio’s hard chest presses against my back, his left hand working its way to my waist.
“I’m sorry for everything I’ve done…”
My breath deepens. “It’s okay.”
“No. It’s not okay.”
His touch runs up my body, leaving hot prints of his passion. “Giving up on us was the biggest mistake of my life. Being apart has been the worst decision of our life. I want you back.”
“Giulio, I…” I want to say more but I am incapable of thinking straight. My head is spinning, and for the first time this morning, it’s not only because of the alcohol.
“Set us free. I want you to set us free, Valencia.”
My eyes open and I spin around to find nobody. Giulio isn’t in the bathroom. It was a fantasy. A hallucination.
I gather the strength to shut off the shower. “Oh god.”
I need to take my pills.
My body is hot all over and I struggle to grip the black bra and underwear he picked out for me without clutching the countertop. Holy cow. It was only a vision. But it felt so real.
I slip on the black cigarette pants with a thick belt and a tight gray top. Seattle weather dictates the revival of a coat, and placed neatly on top of the kid’s stool, is a nude pair of heels. I slip the rather comfortable outfit on, drying off my hair the best I can, and use a spare toothbrush. I have to go without makeup, despite my puffy eyes.
Giulio glances over when I enter the sleek contemporary kitchen. He sets down the newspaper in one hand and lowers the espresso from his lips with the other. He’s standing on one side of the luminous marble island. Breakfast is presented perfectly on it. There is orange juice, neatly cut fruit, and my favorite: honey on toast. My anti-depressants also make a feature.
Giulio Giannotti looks straight out of a GQ cover. The way he leans by the island, ankles locked and giving me his undivided attention—my good god! His black hair is slicked
