Page 34 of Third Degree

“How did you find out where I lived?”

“Tatum told me. I may have lied and said I wanted to check on you when they said you went home.”

“I’m fine,” I repeated.

“Are you…” He paused for a moment and looked down at my hand. I knew what he was looking for.

“I’m not married.” I sighed.

He gripped the top of the doorframe and leaned into the doorway, but I still had my hand on the door, so it wasn’t fully open.

“Over the last twelve years, it has only been you. It was only you who has lingered in my thoughts every waking moment and haunted my dreams with an imagined taste of what life could be.”

He leaned in closer so that I was inhaling the warm, familiar scent of gin.

“It has been a constant reminder of the void that only you can fill. The world feels incomplete without you by my side, and I ache to hold you close, to breathe in your essence and feel the warmth of your presence.”

I could feel my chest tightening as the world closed in again. His confession held the weight of a hundred secrets.

His words hung in the air, heavy with raw vulnerability and a longing that mirrored my own. I couldn’t help but be drawn to him, my heart yearning for the connection that had eluded us for far too long.

I let out a shaky breath, my voice barely above a whisper as I responded, “Elio, I… I’ve never stopped thinking about you either.”

A flicker of hope ignited in his eyes, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, warm and inviting. His hands, still gripping the top of the doorframe, clenched as if yearning to bridge the physical gap between us.

I felt a rush of electricity at his proximity, my senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating scent of gin that enveloped us.

“Rosa mia,” he murmured, his voice husky and filled with a mix of desire and longing. “You’ve been a constant presence in my thoughts, the missing piece that completes the puzzle of my life. There’s an ache deep within me, a void that only you can fill.”

His words echoed in the space between us, resonating with a truth that couldn’t be denied. The years apart had only intensified the connection, leaving an indelible mark on our souls. I could feel the weight of his words, l the what-ifs and missed opportunities, pressing against my chest.

I took a tentative step closer, the door still acting as a barrier—a physical representation of the barriers we had constructed over the years.

“Elio,” I whispered, my voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and determination. “I’ve longed for this moment, for the chance to be with you. But there are so many things… so many complications.”

I couldn’t handle this anymore. He looked at me with those painfully sad emerald-green eyes. I couldn’t think about the fact that I knew this week was going to be filled with events where I would see him. I just needed to take a breath right now. I needed to refocus and come up with a plan. This had shaken my equilibrium, and I just needed a moment.

His eyes, once filled with hope and desire, now reflected a deep sadness mirroring my heartache.

I couldn’t bear the complications, the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume us both.

With a trembling voice, I pleaded, “Please. Go.”

His gaze lingered on me, searching for understanding as if he could sense the turmoil raging within my soul. I knew this week would be filled with unavoidable encounters, moments that would test our resolve and push the boundaries of our connection. But in that instant, I needed to step back, gather my thoughts, and regain my equilibrium.

Elio’s expression softened, his eyes a mosaic of emotions. He recognized the need for space, the need to breathe and find clarity amid the storm.

With a reluctant nod, he backed away, his presence lingering in the air as he slowly retreated.

“Okay,” he finally said, but not before leaning in so that his mouth was next to mine. This man may have been fifty years old, but the way his skin felt against my mouth as he grazed my lips was exactly the same way it felt twelve years ago. It wasn’t a kiss either. He just moved his mouth near mine.

“Sei sempre stata mia, rosa mia(You have always been mine, my rose).” With that, he pulled away and walked down the hallway.

I quickly shut the door and leaned against it with my hands frozen.

In and out, I mentally reminded myself as I felt my breathing speeding up. When I initially moved out to San Diego, the first thing I did was go to therapy. I couldn’t tell my therapist the extent of what my parents did for work or why I was out here, but it helped me work through the nightmares and panic attacks I was having.

I was so desperate for my freedom that when I finally got it and moved out here, I realized I didn’t know what to do with it. It was the first time in my life that I was alone at night, and that feeling consumed me. I had obsessed over my plants, reading, and finding a job, but it wasn’t enough.

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