Page 38 of All is Not Lost

"Gianni?" I call out, my voice steadier than I expected. There's a rustle from the kitchen, and then he appears, his face lighting up with that infectious smile of his—the one that promises everything will be alright.

"Amore mio, what are you doing here so early?" he asks, concern flickering across his features as he takes in my appearance. “I didn’t expect you till two hours from now? Dinner is not ready yet.”

I move toward him, my decision made, my heart committed. "We need to talk, Gianni."

Chapter

Fourteen

I settle beside Giovanni on the porch of the villa. The afternoon light casts a warm, golden hue over everything—the terracotta tiles, the sprawling vineyards in the distance, and us. The sun, a fiery orb, dips closer to the horizon, painting the sky in strokes of pink and orange. It's like sitting inside one of those classic Italian paintings, except this canvas pulses with a real, palpable beat.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" I whisper, not just referring to the view. His presence alone adds a richness to the scene that I find hard to put into words.

"Si, Bellissima," he replies, his voice a soothing melody. He isn't just watching the view; his deep brown eyes are on me, making my heart flutter like the delicate wings of a butterfly trapped inside a jar.

I take a deep breath and try to steady the drumming in my chest. My hand inches toward his, my fingers barely grazing his skin at first—a tentative whisper of contact. Then, emboldened by the way his gaze softens, I intertwine my fingers with his, fully aware of how they tremble slightly. These tremors are betrayals, revealing the nervous energy that courses through me.

Giovanni's hand is firm and reassuring against my own, an anchor in the tumultuous sea of my emotions. Even in this simple gesture, his warmth seeps into me, promising safety, promising something more than the pain and betrayal that seem to have become my shadow.

"Your hands are shaking," he says gently, a lilt of concern in his Italian-accented English.

"Sorry," I manage to say, though I'm not sure what I'm apologizing for—the trembling or the storm of feelings he's unwittingly caught me in.

"Don't be." His thumb strokes the back of my hand in slow, soothing circles. “I’m here, Sophia.”

The way my name rolls off his tongue feels like a caress, and it does something funny to my insides—like I'm coming undone and being stitched back together all at once. There's fun in his tone, sweetness in his touch, and a heartwarming promise in his smile that tells me maybe, just maybe, I can start to rebuild from here—with him.

I lift my gaze to meet Giovanni's, the weight of unspoken words pressing against my chest. It feels like standing on the edge of a precipice, the fall terrifying and inevitable. Yet it's his unwavering presence, that constancy in his dark eyes, which nudges me closer to the truth I've held at bay.

"Ever since I can remember, I've been weaving dreams," I begin, my voice a whisper against the backdrop of the cicadas' song. "Dreams that crumbled in my hands leaving scars too deep for tears. The kind of pain that changes you and makes you fear the very thing you crave the most—closeness."

He's still, so incredibly still, as if afraid to startle my confessions into silence. But it's that attentive quietness, the tenderness in his eyes, that compels me to unravel further.

"I've carried these broken pieces around, convinced they were all I'd ever have." My breath hitches, but I push through, determined to lay bare the heart he's coaxed back to life. "But then there was you… your laughter echoing through my emptiness, your light chasing away the shadows. You didn't fix me; you did something far more powerful. You showed me that I could mend myself—that in your arms, I could find the strength to heal."

Giovanni's hands, still clasping mine, become the anchor keeping me moored to this moment, to the hope that blooms fierce and unyielding within me. His gaze never falters; it's as if he's drinking in every word, every nuance of emotion with a solemn reverence.

"Your resilience is beautiful, Sophia," he says, his voice low and full of awe. "To face such trials and still stand before me with such courage… it humbles me."

There's a resonance in his words that vibrates through my being, mingling with the vulnerability I've laid out between us. He sees not just the fractures of my past but the possibility of a future painted in hues of love and trust.

"Your spirit, it's like a beacon," he continues, his thumb tracing circles over my knuckles, each movement spelling out silent promises. "And I… I am utterly drawn to its light."

My hand, with its barely perceptible tremor, remains clasped in Giovanni's. His skin is warm against mine, a silent testament to the life he exudes.

"I went to the doctor today," I begin, my voice a soft murmur against the song of the cicadas. There's a weight to these words, a gravity that tethers them between us. "There's something I need you to know."

His thumb pauses mid-caress on the back of my hand, and his eyes—those deep wells of kindness—lock onto mine, attentive as ever. This man, who has become my solace, waits with an openness that only fuels my courage.

"The baby… it's yours, Giovanni. Not his."

The confession spills from me like a secret longing to be known, and for a moment, all I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears and the beat of my heart.

Time slows, stretching out as I search his face for any shadow of doubt, any flicker of hesitation or even anger like I had seen in Daniel when telling him I thought it was his. But Giovanni, with the constancy that has become my anchor, does not falter. Instead, his eyes widen, the surprise etching itself into every feature before it gives way to something else entirely—a joy so pure it radiates from him like sunlight through clouds.

"Veramente?" His voice is a breathless whisper imbued with wonder. Then he is laughing—a sound that dances around us, infusing the space with hope. His arms gather me close, his embrace a fortress built of elation and promise. The strength of his hold speaks louder than any declaration could, filling the hushed corners of my fears with light.

"Si, mi amore," I reply, my smile breaking free as I nestle into the safety of his chest. His heartbeat pounds against my ear, a steady drum that syncs with mine in a rhythm that sings of new beginnings.

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