Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
The waiter brings his starter and sets it down. Stefan doesn’t take his eyes off me for a second.
I, on the other hand, look at anything but him.
“Which one, Gabriela?” he probes.
I look up at him and my heart is racing and the thoughts in my head, I don’t understand them.
“The one who carried me up out of that well.”
I say it. I put it out there and I don’t know if he’s setting me up, if he just wants to make fun of me or hurt me somehow but I feel too weak to fight him today. I don’t know what he gets out of it, anyway. What pleasure he can have from making fun of me. Maybe he’s just a sadist.
He looks thoughtful, though, not mocking.
But he still doesn’t speak.
I pick up my glass, swallow some wine, clear my throat and wait, regretting having said it out loud.
It’s a long time before he finally says something. “I would not have left you in that well. What you said last night, that I should have left you there, I wouldn’t.” He drinks a sip of his wine, then puts his glass down. “But I’m not what you think, Gabriela. And you should remember that one heroic act does not a hero make.”
“I know what you are, Stefan. I know who you are. I remember you from the first night in my bedroom. That’s you. The real you.”
“And who is that?”
“Someone broken. Someone alone.”
“Like you?”
8
Stefan
She’s quiet for the rest of the day, throughout lunch and the flight back to Palermo. It’s late afternoon when we’re back and as soon as we walk inside, Gabriela heads for the stairs.
“Gabriela.”
She stops, turns to me.
There’s so much sadness in her eyes right now that it’s hard to look at her. To see her like this. Alex’s death pushed her over the edge, but this has been building for a long time. Maybe all her life.
It’s everything that’s already happened to her.
All the things that are still happening. That have yet to happen.
“Go change into something comfortable. I want to take you somewhere.” As I say it, I’m not sure why I’m going to do it. I’ve been to Skull Rock once since Antonio betrayed us. It was the night I buried what was left of him.
She opens her mouth to protest. I can already hear it before she even says a word.
I go to her, put my finger to her lips. “You said you’d do anything if I let you see your brother.”
“You’re going to take me to see Gabe?” she seems surprised and when she smiles, her eyes sparkle for the first time in days.
I smile too. “Not right this second, but yes. First, change. And bring a sweater. Hurry.”
“Okay.”
She disappears up the stairs and I follow her to do the same, putting on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. It’s a few minutes after I’m downstairs that she follows wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top and is tying a sweater around her hips.
I hold out my hand.
She looks at it cautiously, but slips hers inside mine and a few minutes later, I’m leading her out the back of the house and down those stone steps to the cove.
“Where are we going?” she asks as I help her down. The stairs are steep, and I wonder how she managed them in the dark that night without falling.
“Have you ever gone swimming in the sea under the moon?” I ask her as we step onto the sandy beach.
She pulls back, her expression changing.
“Stefan, I can’t swim. You know that.”
“You can swim. You’re just afraid to and I already told you I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” This is one reason I didn’t tell her to put a swimsuit on. She’d have given me trouble.
She’s reluctant as I guide her around a corner, following the shoreline to a hidden cove I’m sure she hasn’t discovered yet.
“I used to play here with my brother growing up,” I say as we turn a final corner where my boat is docked. “Now the toys are a little different.” It’s a sailboat, not a very big one, just what I need. I haven’t taken it out in a while.
Gabriela looks up at it, at the high sails, the beautiful polished wood.
“It belonged to my father. I inherited it.” It’s well maintained, even through the years I wasn’t able to do it myself.
She turns to me. “You can sail?”
I nod. “Have you ever been sailing?”
“A long time ago. With my mom and brother.”
“Well,” I start gesturing to the boat. “Then you can help.”
It takes a little doing to convince her to get on and I don’t really expect her to help with the sails but not ten minutes later, we’re out on the water having caught the wind and are sailing steadily toward what Antonio and I named Skull Rock. It feels like a lifetime ago that we did that. It is a lifetime. A whole other life.