I get a lump in my throat.
“When he was home, he was so…attentive to me.”
“You were still having sex?” I gasp.
“The best sex, we were….” She frowns as if the memory pains her. “When he was home with us, he was perfect. I conceded that he loved the both of us and both relationships had their place in his life. You must remember at this time; your father was a very powerful man. Most Italian men of his stance had a harem of women, I somehow convinced myself that one woman who I knew about was better than the many that his friends took.”
I puff air into my cheeks, I hate this story.
“And then he did something unforgiveable.”
“What?”
“He got Angelina pregnant.”
My face falls.
“He swore it was an accident, but I don’t think it was.”
I watch her as I listen.
“Then the boy was born,” she says sadly.
“What happened then?”
“Your father loved him so much.”
I smile softly. He’s easy to love. I think for a moment, “But how….”
“How were you conceived?”
“Yes?”
“I told your father that I had met someone else and was going to pursue a sexual relationship with him. He flipped out. Threatened to kill him and then beat him to a pulp if he didn’t stay away from me.”
“What?”
“He was home for three months straight and begged me night and day for another chance, and slowly but surely, made me fall back in love with him. We spent a wonderful six months in each other’s arms.”
“Where was Angelina at this time?”
“I was told that they were over.”
I frown. “But?”
“Turns out that she was just in England because her father was terminally ill.”
She falls serious and stares straight ahead.
“What happened then?” I ask.
“I still remember the day she returned. I was seven months pregnant with you.”
My heart drops.
“He was so excited and had hardly slept the night before. He left early one morning and said he wouldn’t be back for a week as he was going away for work. In my gut, I just knew that something was amiss and I was sure it had to do with her. This woman had become the death of me, every one of my nightmares and insecurities revolved around her. I knew that he loved her and that no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t stay away. I found out that Angelina had been in London because her father was terminally ill and that she was to return to Lake Como. I found myself heavily pregnant to a man who was a stranger. That was the day my marriage ended. There and then, I wouldn’t even let him come into the delivery room with me.”
“You went in alone?” I whisper.
“No.” She smiles sadly. “I had a girlfriend.”
I sit and stare into space as I process everything. Wow…information overload.
“I wasn’t the only victim in this story. Poor Angelina, she loved him so much. Gave up her family and her country for a man who was married and still happily sleeping with his wife. She too, suffered years of emotional insecurity.”
“He wasn’t a very nice man, was he?”
She smiles sadly. “That’s the contradicting thing, he was a wonderful man. Even after everything, I adored him until the very end.
I exhale in disgust. “You’re a better woman than I am.”
“One day, you’ll meet someone special and will understand.”
“Understand what?” That all men are douche bags?
“That deep true love isn’t something that can be turned off when you want to. If you love someone, you love them for life. Love isn’t a choice, Francesca. Love chooses you, not the other way around.”
My mind goes to the image of Giuliano in the movie.
Like a sick and twisted stalker, I’ve watched it over and over this morning. The sheen on his skin, the lust in his eyes. The expression on his face as she bares her teeth as he reaches climax.
The deep ache to have him come inside of me.
Just once….
Stop it.
Just fucking stop it.
Why am I thinking such destructive thoughts?
I’ll have a perfectly wonderful life with Marcel, we will be happy and I’ll be fulfilled, and everything will be okay…except for one small detail.
He’ll never be him.
* * *
I sip my wine as I stare into space, miles away.
There’s one thing I know for sure.
Secrets are hard to keep.
Anna has asked me if I watched the Pornhub video, I told her it wasn’t Giuliano.
So that’s not actually a secret, it’s an outright lie.
And every time over the last two days that Marcel has asked me what’s wrong, I tell him that I’m thinking about work.
Not picturing my own brother naked.
I’m disgusting.
I need to get over this, I will not allow myself to think of Giuliano Ferrara one more time.
He’s no good…and I’m no good when I…I get a lump in my throat as emotion overtakes me.
Just once.
No.
“Surprise,” Anna’s voice calls.