He gives me nothing.
“Red or white, Giulio?”
Silence.
“Red or whi—”
He interrupts me. “You’ve known me for nearly seven years, you already know which one.”
That damn seven-year itch.
I thrust the Merlot bottle into his chest and put away the other. “Pour it yourself.”
Leave.
I wish I could tell him to go but the words get stuck on my tongue. I tread away from him in fury to the open plan dining room and set down the wine glasses.
Why is everything a battle with him?
Why can’t we see Addilyn’s disappearance in the same light?
Giulio believes it’s best to let go of the torment and accept her fate. She will always be in our hearts. I cannot live like that. I’ve tried. I did. For him, I tried to accept it, but I can’t see it like him nor let go of hope.
Giulio attempted to have faith after the abduction like I did. She will come back to us. He tried. He did. For me. Yet, it all came crashing down and he can’t part with his gut instinct. And so our diverse outlooks on our daughter’s case has caused us the tragedy of a broken marriage. We speak less. Love less. Give up over and over again.
How can he lose hope in finding our baby?
If I thought I escaped the tense waters we call legal marriage separation, I thought wrong. Giulio’s warmth consumes me in areas it shouldn’t. I’m still by the dining table when his hard chest presses against my back. Electricity awakens my skin as his hands find their way to my shoulders and he massages the knots of tension away. It’s the first time he’s touched me in months. We mold into one as his fingers dance their way to my exposed neck and my resilience slips ever so slightly as those warm lips reach the shell of my ear. I feel myself slowly sinking into Giulio’s world, one where I know if I dip my feet in for too long, I’ll never want to get out.
“Valencia,” he whispers softly. “Please, tell me what’s going on.”
See? I knew his innate knowledge would come to bite me in the ass.
Giulio knows my mind and how my body reacts to both dilemmas and pleasure. He knows the little ways to have me come spinning inside his world, and although we’re separated, although I shouldn’t feel this way towards him, I still do. I’m home in the warmth he projects.
“It will feel too real if I say it out loud.”
“That’s an even better reason why you should tell me.”
“Why? What would it help?”
I know it’s me. It has always been me. I’m the problem. My desire to hold onto hope caused the fracture in this damned marriage. But I’ll be damned to say that I regret holding onto good faith in this investigation. I will be damned if I give up on Addilyn too. I can’t.
It hurts too much.
Concern laces his every word and it makes it worse. “Please, Valencia. Talk to me.”
Even when Giulio’s touch fades, his masculine cologne remains lingering in the air. It’s fresh with Italian hesperidium fruits of tangerine and bitter orange. A touch of musk enriched oak and subtle sandalwood creates the perfect blend of sensuous sexiness. It taunts me. Enough to onset the heavy palpitations of my heart.
I turn around so we’re face to face. His pulled expression demands something more from me; I decide to set myself free. “I lost my job on Tuesday.” The shallow breath I take is hardly enough to fill my lungs. “The truth is I haven’t been concentrating at work. With summer ending and Addilyn…I thought I had enough in me to persevere, but parents had meetings with me before the break and voiced their concerns. High school is critical. Art is the most creative aspect of young minds and so during a meeting with the principal the other day, we concluded it would be best if we parted ways.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. Is there something I can do to help?”
“Not at this stage, but I appreciate it. Thank you.”
“It will take time, but you’ll get there again. I know you will.”
“Thanks. Everything seems just so…”
“…Surreal?”
“Yes, exactly! It hurts knowing nothing will ever be the same until we find her again. I mean, it’s six months today, but I haven’t been okay since the first day. Addilyn…she has to be out there somewhere.”
It’s done.
My thoughts are black and white laid out on the table, the same ones that have Giulio back away, our sweet Addilyn.
“I’m sorry…” The warmth in his eyes fades until it all comes crashing down. “I can’t tell you what you don’t want to hear.”
Wow.
I can’t believe this!
I shake my head the second he walks away and follow him back into the kitchen. “Well I’m sorry, but I still can’t believe you don’t have one inch of hope that she could still be alive.”
“We have to face reality, Valencia.”
“This is reality, Giulio.”
“For you maybe.”
“And for you?”
The tension between us escalates with a sharp sigh. “To me, this is false hope. You know that. You know I feel that way. The hope will only get worse. It is not good for any of us.”
The ‘not good for us’ line sets me off and I don’t know if it’s solely based on my vexation or my hallucination of him earlier. “I cannot just forget about her. This, you know.”
Giulio switches off the stove. It takes two strides for his six-foot-one frame to tower over me. His voice remains composed, but I know that I have pushed him enough. “I never said that. See, this is the issue. You accuse me of things I never say. All I’m saying, all I have ever said, is that we are slowly losing our minds over it.”
“Dead or alive I’m still losing my mind over it! There you go! I admit it! I am losing my mind over it! That’s what happens when depression takes over. It’s bleak.
