Page 94 of Casanova LLC

I smiled at her. “Color theory. But he also believed that there was some of the masculine color in the feminine and vice versa. Not a lot, but some. So, on his palette, he made a mix for each. A little blue in the red, a little red in the blue, and when he did this, both became very similar in color, just different hues.”

“So we all have a little bit of the other in us… How does that help?”

“As far as he was concerned, it meant that men did, in fact, have the capacity to identify internally with the feminine. And women had the capacity to better comprehend the impulses and actions of the masculine. He thought if people could open themselves up to this, it would make relationships possible.”

“Because when you feel understood, you feel recognized. And loved.”

“And you can better identify how your partner experiences love because you can identify their feelings in yourself. He actually said it much better than me: When a man loves a woman she feels more; and so will he. When a woman loves a man he becomes more; and so will she.”

That stopped Claire. Then she smiled. “Oh, he wasn’t Casanova, he was CasaYoda.”

Laughing, I leaned in to kiss her. But Matteo interrupted:

“Is true, though. The commercial, with the man who gets the puppy for Christmas. It is under the tree in a box. And he is so happy. But then he has a wife and a baby and another baby, and the dog, it gets older as the years, they go by. And he waits on the sofa, trying to get the man’s attention, but the man is busy with life, you know? And then one Christmas, the dog is too old to get on the sofa anymore. So the man, he lies down under the Christmas tree with his dog.” His voice broke on the last word. “I cry like a woman every time.”

“Aw, what’s the commercial for?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s for car insurance.”

“How much you have to figure out just to have the sex! I need a nap.”

We all had a laugh, then Claire and I turned back around, settled into the rhythm of our meandering path. She folded into me, a cat who instinctively knew where to find its comfort. Eventually, she took a long breath that lingered inside her. I waited for the exhale, but it didn’t come. She spoke instead. “I’m going to sell Visage.”

“What? If this is because of that other woman?—”

“It’s not. You were right, I was spiraling about her. But it did make me take a harder look at my relationship to Visage. And the truth is, the thing that made me work so hard the first time around, that spark? I don’t have it anymore. I only wanted to resurrect it because I wanted some semblance of my old life back. But I don’t want it back anymore. I want a new life.”

She rested her head against the cushion. I stared at her profile. “I’ll have to rebuild its value first so I don’t take a loss on it. But I can do that. Get enough out of it to do whatever it is that I want to do next.” She smirked at me. “Too bad you’re not scalable. If I could bottle you, I’d invest in a heartbeat.”

“That’s…flattering.”

“It’s just smart business. You do realize you’re very good at what you do, right?”

“How would you know?”

She looked confused for a moment. Then I saw her understand what I meant: we hadn’t actually made love yet. Which seemed impossible, considering everything else we’d shared over the last three days.

And then there was my something else. Something I had yet to share. Was now the moment? Could I remove this one splintered truth from under my skin so we could have free rein with each other tonight? An intimate last night together? “Claire…there’s?—”

“Have you met your Forever?”

She may as well have suddenly spoken in fluent Italian.

As if she’d known the language the whole time.

As if she’d heard things she shouldn’t have.

I could only blink.

Fortunately, we were about to dock. Matteo maneuvered us to one side of the canal, hopped out of the boat, and tied off the lines. I helped Claire stand and Matteo took her hands, saying, “Be careful, Signora. Sometimes Mirabella, she gives a kick.”

I followed after and gave Matteo a brotherly hug. “Stammi bene amico mio.”

“You as well, mio amico. Are you off for the night? Can I buy you a drink?” I didn’t want to have the Forever conversation with Claire, and Matteo had never, in the history of our acquaintance, refused a free drink.

So, of course, this one time, he waved me off. “I think I go home. Surprise the wife.”

---