Page 12 of Faking With The Frenemy

I laughed hard at that, happy I could tease her so easily. “I will see you later, Auntie. I had a long day and would love to get some rest.” I got up, kissed the back of her hand, and left her in the garden. I made my way to my room through the back entrance, not feeling up to another lengthy conversation with another family member.

I shut the door softly behind me, grateful for the safety of my room once again. I walked to the window and took a seat. I picked up a brush and looked satisfactorily at the half-finished painting of Michael before me.

I had settled on depicting him in his most glorious form, naked. I gave him another-worldly appearance, painting a pair of wings and stars above his head. His eyes looked pale and translucent, clear like a pool of water. He had a look about him, and I smiled with satisfaction. The result was a Renaissance-style painting, and I could already tell how beautiful the result would be.

What I had so far outlined of the man. However, as I picked up my brush to add texture, I poured in the whirlpool of emotions and the passion that had been my time with Michael.

As I moved the brush across the canvas, I merged all the moments we had shared into one, translating them into my strokes; time ceased to exist as I worked, as images of Michael swirled through my memory. He had captivated my senses with his touch. He had shown me a different way to make love. I needed to transfer those memories; the canvas before me was a willing vessel.

I worked slower now, taking my time as I added the fine details. I had completely memorized every ridge and curve of his beautiful body. I recalled the images as easily as if he were in the room, lying on a sheet before me. I worked until I saw the painting take life and breathe in air. Only then did I set down the brush.

I glanced at the painting once more, feeling content with the progress I had achieved. As I glanced out the window, I realized it was dark. I had been working with the light coming from the lamps below. I had been working with light from the lamps down below. I washed my brushes and set them aside to dry. Then I cleaned the area meticulously.

I rubbed my eyes tiredly, wondering how long I had been there, working. I stretched my legs as I stood up, rubbing them to return feelings to both limbs. I limped to my bed and settled onto it, exhausted.

Noise drifted upstairs from the garden below. I could hear faint music floating up from somewhere inside the house. I didn’t feel like spending any more time around people, preferring the silent solitude of my room. There would be enough time to meet family tomorrow.

I missed Michael. I couldn’t help imagining what we would do at this moment had I not run away from Milan. Thoughts of him had helped me get through the day so far, and I knew I would need those thoughts the next day. I glanced at the painting of him near the window, barely visible, and wished he was here in bed with me.

There was no use wishing for the impossible, though. I had disappeared of my volition, and regretting that decision now was practically useless.

I felt the need to shower, but I couldn’t drag myself out of bed. A cloak of sadness and fatigue seemed to pin me in place. I chose not to fight it, drifting off to sleep in the same clothes I had worn the entire day.

I woke up to loud shouting that seemed to come from just under my window. I rubbed my eyes as I came to, looking around the bright room. I could make out the speaker with a loud voice. It was Enzo. I wondered what made him mad so early in the day.

I reached around for my phone, wondering what the time was, and found it. I jumped up with a start when I discovered it was a quarter-hour before noon.

The birthday party was probably well underway, and I still had not seen my father since I had arrived in Tuscany. I scrambled out of bed and took a quick bath, angry at myself for sleeping as long as I had.

I dressed quickly, applied makeup, and headed down to the party. There were more people present than I had seen in any one gathering before, and I had to duck my head as I weaved through the sea of bodies. There was also a lot of food and wine, with an army of servants attending to the guests.

I found my father near the podium, talking to a group of people, and I approached him. I stood quietly behind him until he finished, then began to share my wishes.

“Buongiorno, Padre,” I said quietly from behind, making him turn to look at me. He beamed a warm smile as he saw me. “Buon compleanno.” I handed him a little present I had purchased for him before leaving France.

He spread his arms and engulfed me in a bear hug, pleased to see me. “Grazie, bambina.” He regarded me with a critical eye. “You look wonderful. How long have you been around? I heard you came in yesterday but were under the weather.”

“It’s nothing serious, Papa,” I replied. “I just needed a little rest. I am better now.” I nodded to an elderly couple standing to the side, waiting to talk to my father. “Your guests want to talk to you, Papa. Parleremo più tardi.”

I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, excusing myself. I took a glass of wine from a server as I left. It was a new vintage that my father had been saving for this occasion before putting it on the market.

I planned to hide somewhere quiet for the remainder of the party, but when I looked up, I saw none other than Giorgio headed in my direction. Al diavolo! He was the last person I wanted to waste a minute talking to today. He was someone I had known all my life. A childhood friend, his father and mine were very close friends and business associates.

There had been echoes about a union between Giorgio and me for several years, but I had no interest in settling down with him. Giorgio, fully believed that we were betrothed and told people as much. He had always hit on me as a kid, and no matter how many times I blew him off, he kept trying harder.

I took a turn to my right, expertly pretending not to see him. He turned as well, practically running over people in his bid to get to me. I took another turn and walked into a mass of people chatting idly. I tried to double back as quickly as I could but ended up facing Giorgio. His forehead was dotted with beads of sweat, and he looked red like a tomato. I forced myself to smile with feigned surprise but swore uncontrollably inside.

“Ciao, Giorgio. It’s been a while.” I tried to keep the contempt out of my voice.

“Ciao, cara mia,” he said. “I have been searching for you all morning. You haven’t been taking my calls. Perché?”

I forced a chuckle. “You know how it goes. I have just been busy. Life moves fast in Paris, you know? Chiedo scusa.”

He huffed, “Non è questo il punto. It’s about time you thought about settling down, mia cara. You’re not getting any younger. When are we going to have bambini piccoli, eh?”

Maledetto questo idiota maldestro! I reflected a broad smile on my face. Like I would ever share children with such a clown.

I glanced around, desperately seeking a way out of my current predicament. Giorgio, fool that he was, kept yammering on about the number of children he wanted to have. I saw Aunt Giulia with her friends but decided against it. She would only encourage Giorgio’s madness.

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