It’s a beautiful, sunny June afternoon and I lift my face up to the sky to soak it all in. The soothing sounds of the water lapping against the sides of the boat, the cry of gulls overhead, and a gentle early summer breeze tugs at the wisps of my hair that managed to pull free of my braid.
Strong arms wrap around my waist as Austin steps up behind me. I sink into his chest with a contented sigh and let my head rest back on his shoulder. “Such a gorgeous day, don’t you think?” I ask.
“I feel like I haven’t noticed anything but you since the moment you stepped onstage.”
My breath catches in my throat from the reverence in his tone and the possibility of his words having a deeper meaning than anything we’ve dared say to each other before. He nuzzles the side of my neck and then kisses that spot just below my ear. It’s not his usual lustful kind with tongue and teeth; this is a firm and lingering press of his lips, as though he’s branding me with the very reverence with which he spoke moments ago, and it sinks inside to wind itself around my heart.
I hug him to me and revel in the feel of him. The tickle on my palms from the hair on his forearms, the firm planes of his chest against the back of my shoulders, the sense of peace that washes over me every time he’s near.
I’m afraid that if I open my mouth, I’ll say the things I’m not ready to admit. That maybe I’m ready to take this to the next level. But I need a little more time to sort it all out in my head before I make any big decisions, and I need to make sure that this thing with Austin isn’t just a flash in the pan. I’m worried about my father’s heart if I tell him I don’t want to marry Marco. If the added stress pushes him into dangerous territory again, the guilt will be unimaginable.
“You’re quiet,” Austin says, his lips brushing my temple. “What are you thinking about?”
I stare at the horizon like it holds all the answers, but all it gives me is possibilities. It’s an endless line of courses I can choose to take. Some could lead me to everything I’ve always wanted…but those same paths might also mean risking everything I already have.
“Fairy tales,” I say finally. “Every night, my father would read me stories about princesses saved by princes who all lived happily ever after. Then he’d say, ‘Someday, piccola principessa, you will find your own prince, and you will live happily ever after, too. Just like me and your maman.’”
“He must have loved your mom very much.”
I nod, the memory of her loss lancing a fresh wound on my heart. “He did. Neither of their families wanted them to be together, but he said their love wouldn’t be denied.”
“How did they meet?”
Smiling, I turn my head to look up at him. “She was Princess Aurora in her ballet company’s touring production of The Sleeping Beauty. My father saw her perform in Milan and, according to him, fell in love with her before the closing curtain.”
Something flashes in Austin’s gaze, but he hides it with a quirk of his lips and a wink before I can figure it out. “You come from a long line of princesses, then, just as I suspected.”
I roll my eyes, keeping up the pretense that I don’t find his royalty jokes entertaining. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”
“Not a chance,” he says, chuckling.
“What about your parents?” I ask, careful not to say it loud enough for Glen to hear us talking about him. “Did they ever find someone else to share their lives with?”
“No, they didn’t. My dad told me once that my mom was it for him, that their love was that once-in-a-lifetime kind, but it wasn’t enough. They just didn’t fit.”
My brows knit together as I think about that. I’d never considered that two people in love might “not fit.” Our parents had both had love as a foundation, but one relationship failed where the other thrived. What made the difference? Why wasn’t love enough? On paper, Austin and I don’t fit, either. It’s too soon to call my feelings for him love, but I think it could be if we continue the path we’re on. Would our love be enough?
“Growing up as you did and hearing that about your parents, I’d think you’d be cynical about love and sappy happy ever afters.”
He shifts around me so that he’s leaning back against the captain’s room and pulls me in to stand between his legs. “Not at all,” he says, tucking away the strands of hair blowing across my face. “I’ve never touched the moon, and yet I’ve seen it hanging in the sky and know other people have been there. Just because I don’t have personal experience with something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
“Excellent point.” The corners of my mouth curve up in a smile. I’ve never met anyone as optimistic as him. He’s a glass-half-full kind of guy, and he helps me see the silver lining when all I can see is the dark cloud. “I might keep you around for the abs and amazing orgasms, but your brain is a nice bonus.”
He laughs, and I swoon from the deep sound and the sight of his dimples. His hands flex on my hips and pull me closer as he lowers his head for a kiss when we hear the loud whining of one of the lines being dragged out.
“Ha haaaa, we got the first one!” Martin cheers.
Glen grabs the pole and laughs. “You snooze you lose, son.”
“You need the head start, Pop, because Emi and I are gonna smoke your ass.”
“Oh yeah? Wanna make it two hundred?” Glen asks over his shoulder as he fights to reel in whatever mammoth fish is on the other end of his line.
The egos are getting out of control, so I answer with, “Absolutely n—” but a large hand is clapped over my mouth before I can finish.
“Absolutely,” Austin says, winking at me. I roll my eyes and chuckle, but it’s short-lived when a fish hooks onto one of our poles. “We’re up!” He springs into action, grabbing the pole out of its holder and bracing it against his abs. I watch the way his muscles flex in his arms and shoulders as he leans back. There isn’t a better view in the world than this one right now. Well, it’d be better if he was naked.
“Emi, get over here. This one’s yours,” he says.
I shake my head. “No, that’s all you. I’m just along for the ride.” And the view.
“Fuck that.”
“Language in front of the lady!”
“Sorry, Pop,” Austin says with a wince like he was caught doing something wrong. I’ve always found his penchant for swear words refreshing, and he knows that the dirtier he talks during sex, the more turned on I get. But I think it’s sweet that he abides by his dad’s rules even as an adult. “Get your cute butt over here, princess, and reel this fish in.”
He pulls me in front of him and wraps his arms in front to help me hold the pole. The next eternity of minutes is spent in an exhausting game of reeling the fish in and letting it swim down to tire itself out. Austin coaches me through it, and I do a lot of unladylike grunting and swearing of my own, but Glen and my uncle don’t seem to care. They cheer me on while reeling their own fish in on the other side of the boat.
Finally, we get the fish to the top of the water near the boat, and Austin grabs a large net. “Okay, hold it right there, don’t let it get away.”
“Hurry, my arms feel like jelly,” I say through my laughter. He leans over the edge and scoops up my prize with the net, and my jaw drops. “That’s it. It felt like I was pulling in a damn shark! That thing is so small.”
Uncle Martin chuckles. “Not so small. That’s about a three- or four-pound Coho. Good for your first fish!”
Austin brings it closer for me to see, and it tries to flip around in the net, spraying me with lake water. Before I catch myself, I squeal like a little girl, which naturally makes him laugh at my expense. I give him the evil eye, and he hands the netted culprit over to my uncle before wrapping me up in his arms and kissing me.
“Congratulations, princess, you’re a true fisherwoman now.”
“Great,” I say with mock sarcasm. “Just what I’ve always wanted.”
My phone rings in my pocket. Since Graham is covering my classes at t
he studio today, I told him to call me if anything came up I should know about. But it’s not Graham calling me. It’s my father.
Crap. I haven’t been lying to him about how much time I’ve been spending with Austin, but I haven’t exactly been flaunting it, either. Stepping out of Austin’s embrace, I tell him I need to take the call, then I close myself into the captain’s room and pray he’s in a good mood. “Hi, Daddy, what’s up?”
“Emi, Graham says you are not at the studio today. Where are you?”
Wincing, I sit on the small loveseat wedged between the walls. His accent is thicker than usual, which isn’t a good sign. “I’m spending the day with Uncle Martin.” Not a lie. “Why’d you call the studio, Papà, is something wrong? Are you okay?”
“No, I am not okay. The Robertsons and Wilsons are all sick. All of them. The stupidos drank the water in Brazil, and now we have an empty table for the gala and no one to fill it.”
Shit, that’s not good at all. Relevé is a huge annual charity dinner and art auction hosted by my father’s company. It was my mother’s labor of love, which I’ve taken over in her absence. Every year, the event raises more than $100,000, and it garners a lot of press. Losing eight seats isn’t a huge monetary loss in the grand scheme of things, but my father will be worried about how it looks and that it will become a trend for the future.
“It’s okay, I’ll find replacement guests. There won’t be any empty chairs at the gala, I promise.”
“How?” he demands, and I can almost see him in his home office, pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that face the lake he never takes the time to appreciate. “Everybody important is already coming!”
He’s right, and I’m not sure who I’m going to get to fill the seats, but I need to calm him down before his blood pressure gets too high. “Don’t worry about this, Daddy, I will fix this before the weekend is even over. Now, take some deep breaths.”
He sighs so loudly I’m surprised I can’t feel it through my phone. “Emi…” Whenever I force him to do something for his health, my name becomes a drawn-out complaint.
“I mean it, Papà. Deep breaths or I’m telling Mariana to make you kale with a side of more kale for dinner.” He grumbles something in Italian, but then I hear him start the breathing exercises. I haven’t been able to convince him to try meditation, but at least this helps to bring his heart rate down. “Better?” I ask after a couple of minutes.
“Yes, this ridiculous watch says I am better,” he gripes, filling his minimum daily quota of reminding me how much he hates his health monitor. But it’s part of our deal: he does things to make sure he lives as long as possible, and I put his mind at ease by marrying Marco.
I wasn’t the only one who’d been devastated by my father’s close call. Facing his mortality caused him to panic about someday leaving me behind. With no siblings and all my extended family members other than Martin living in other countries, I’d be all alone. That’s when my dad decided that I needed a good husband to take care of me, someone I could build a family with, and no amount of me insisting that I would be fine on my own could dissuade him from that line of thinking.
I was able to put him off for a couple months, but the more time went on, the more he became agitated about my uncertain future, which started affecting his blood pressure and putting him at risk for another heart attack. In the end, agreeing to marry my friend seemed like a small sacrifice compared to losing my father. But that was before I knew what it was like to have almost-maybe-it-could-be-love feelings for a man.
Glancing up, I study Austin through the window as he talks to my uncle. Every time I look at him, my heart flutters in my chest. I don’t know if that’s what love is, but I know it doesn’t happen when I look at Marco. What seemed like a small sacrifice before is now weighing on me to the point of suffocation, and I don’t think I can bear it. But I have to be delicate, or I could be trading a metaphorical death for a real one.
“Papà, when I get home tonight, I’d like to talk to you about something.”
Chapter Thirteen
Austin
I don’t like the worried look on Emi’s face before she disappears into Martin’s operations room, but she obviously wants some privacy, so I force myself to stay put. As I drop her fish in the live well, Martin comes over to reset the pole.
“How long have you been seeing Emmélie?”
His tone is casual, and his focus is on his task, but I recognize a fatherly interrogation when I hear one. I suppose it’s only fair, since I’ve never actually seen her real father for him to question my intentions toward his daughter. I’m not sure if that means he doesn’t care or he just doesn’t think I’m worth acknowledging. Or maybe he doesn’t even know I exist. I’ve only picked her up a few times, and she always met me out on the driveway. Maybe for all Vincenzo DeLuca knows, Emi has just been hanging out with friends.
“Couple months now,” I say, drying my hands with a towel. “It’s nothing serious, though. We’re just enjoying each other’s company.” I should leave it at that. But I don’t. “For now.”
Dark eyebrows shoot up, wrinkling his brow, but he still doesn’t look away from what he’s doing with the pole. “You want more?”
I glance over at my dad, who’s pretending not to listen from a few feet away, but he might as well be holding a microphone boom over my head trying to listen in. I doubt he’ll have much luck with the breeze and sound of the waves, though, which is fine with me.
“Yeah, I do. I’m just not sure I’m what she wants or needs. Plus, I get the impression her dad wouldn’t be thrilled about us.” I rub the back of my neck and sigh. “It’s complicated.”
Martin finishes and turns to me. His expression is kind but serious, like he wants to help me but he won’t tolerate any bullshit. It’s not unlike some of the looks I’ve gotten from my dad over the years. “The French have a saying: Á coeur valliant rien d’impossible. Nothing is impossible for a willing heart.”
“You’re saying I need to face her dad if I want to keep Emi.”
“No, not her father,” he says, then pokes me in the chest. “Your fears. You think you are not good enough for her, I can see it in your eyes. But you cannot decide what your worth is to her, so stop trying.”
Blowing out a deep breath, I gaze out at the horizon. Martin’s right. I’ve been letting my concerns about coming from different worlds stop me from pursuing her the way that I want. I’ve never been a man who does anything half-assed, but I’ve been dragging my feet with pushing Emi for more for fear of rejection; fear that maybe I’m just a way to pass the time for her and when she’s tired of me, she’ll leave me behind for a man from her world.
No more of that. It’s time for me to sack up and put everything out on the table. “Thanks, Martin, I appreciate the advice. Think I’ll go check on her.”
I take the few steps to the door, but before I can knock, Martin calls my name. I turn back.
“That thing about facing her father if you want to keep Emmélie…” he says.
“Yeah?”
“That is also a good idea.”
“Yeah, I figured as much,” I say with a wry smile. He nods and walks back to my dad, apparently done doling out his wisdom for the time being. I knock on the door. It’s been quiet in there for the last minute, so she’s either being read the riot act or she’s off the phone. She opens up wearing a half grin that doesn’t reach her gorgeous eyes, and when she tries to come out, I crowd her back inside and close the door behind us.
“Austin, I’m fine, let’s go and—”
“Hey,” I say, cupping her face, “talk to me. What was all that about?”
Her hands encircle my wrists as she worries her bottom lip, and I can see those wheels spinning, carefully thinking of what she wants to say before responding. “My father called about the annual charity event his company is holding next week for Live.Love.Dance., an organization that brings art and dance to underprivileged children across the world. I t
ook over planning it after my mom died, and an entire table of guests has canceled due to some crazy illness. He needs me to fill the seats. It won’t be easy, since it’s so last minute, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
She doesn’t look like she thinks it’ll be fine. The lines around her mouth are tight, and her shoulders are visibly tense. I lead her to the small loveseat opposite the captain’s chair. She sinks into the cushions, and I turn to face her with my arm resting across the back. “How many seats do you need to fill?”
“Eight,” she says dejectedly. “I’ll think of something, and if not, it’s not the end of the world. It’s just that things are kind of strained with my dad right now and I was counting on the event’s success to put him in a good mood so—”
“I can fill eight seats.”
Her head snaps up, and she narrows her eyes slightly like she’s waiting for the punchline. “It’s two thousand dollars a plate.”
“That’s not an issue. Besides, it’s for a good cause, right?”
“Are you one of the eight seats?” she asks hopefully.
“Unless you have an objection to me being there.”
“You might be the one with the objection. It’s black tie.”
I shrug. “Monkey suits aren’t my favorite thing to wear, but I have a feeling seeing you in an evening gown will make any discomfort well worth it.”
At last, her real smile spreads across her face, and it lights up my fucking world. Cupping the back of her neck, I touch my forehead to hers and sigh with contentment, whispering her name. “Emmélie…”
I told her before that I wouldn’t push or ask her for more than she was willing to give, but every day it’s gotten harder to pretend this hasn’t turned into something very real for me. What’s worse is that I think it has for her, too, but whatever’s holding her back has a damn tight grip on her, and I don’t know how to break it. I’m not even sure I can, but fuck if I don’t want to rip apart whatever’s got her.
Besides that, what Martin said hit home. I need to swallow my petty insecurities and make my feelings for her known. I won’t make the same mistakes my friends did by not communicating what I want. That’s not my way, and I’m not going to lose this girl over a simple misunderstanding.