Page 43 of Third Degree

As I poured out my heart, he leaned closer, bridging the gap between us, his hands finding mine as they had twelve years ago.

The touch sent a surge of warmth through me, a nostalgic reminder of the connection we had once shared. His gaze held a mix of tenderness and pride, and as he delicately tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, a wave of emotions swelled within me.

The night embraced us as we continued to talk, sharing stories and dreams, rediscovering the intricate details of each other’s lives that had once seemed lost. And in the depth of our conversation, we found solace, a reminder that despite the obstacles and the path we had walked separately, our souls had remained intertwined.

As the hours slipped by, our connection grew stronger, and a sense of belonging settled within me.

It was as if the universe had conspired to bring us together again, offering us a chance to rewrite our story. To forge a future guided by our own desires.

“You have grown so much, amore,” Elio whispered, his voice laden with admiration. The genuine affection in his words washed over me, filling the void that had lingered for far too long. “I am so proud of what you have become.”

I laughed, this time in disbelief. “But I am a nobody. I am tired, lonely, and riddled with anxiety. I don’t know what I want to do with my life, so I play with plants all day. The worst part about all of it is that in six months, my parents are already planning my goddamn engagement party to a man I will never know.”

I couldn’t help but feel the moisture welling in my eyes and could barely make out what Elio was doing between the fog of my tears and the darkness of the night.

Then I felt his presence as he came over to me and sat on his haunches. I felt his steadfast hands wipe the tears off my face, and I looked down at him. The way he was crouched in front of me made me feel less vulnerable.

“I will never let that happen, amore.”

He was so confident that it made me almost believe it was possible. Somehow, Elio would be able to save me from whatever fate my father had planned.

“But you cannot stop it either, Elio.” I took a calming breath. “I appreciate your words of confidence, but I cannot have you making promises that give me false expectations.” I glanced down at the dinner on our table and back up at him, practically begging. “Please, can we just continue to eat this? I really didn’t mean to trauma dump on you.”

Except Elio didn’t move. He looked up into my eyes.

“What hurts you pains me. What upsets you makes it feel like the world is splitting in half beneath me.”

He stood up and threw his hands in his thick, peppered hair.

“Fuck.” He slammed his hands into an innocent planter before looking at me, agonized. “I did what I needed to for you, rosa mia. Do you think I was sitting around these last twelve years just hanging out and enjoying the fact I was doing the one thing Bea begged me not to do? Do you think I enjoy being in bed with the fucking goddamn Mafia?”

I’d never seen him this upset and frustrated before.

“Do you think, as much as you want and beg and plead for your own freedom, that I do not want my own? That I don’t imagine what my own freedom looks like? Instead, I constantly give to others, and it is fucking exhausting for me too.”

I stood up and watched this man open up to me so vulnerably. Even years ago, I always saw him as this older man who just looked like he had his shit together. When he talked about his wife and what happened and what they forced him to do when he left, I never assumed he was this pained by it. Now thinking about it, it seemed so fucking stupid to even assume something like that. As I watched the man in front of me unravel, I wrapped my hands around his back so our bodies molded together.

“I didn’t know,” I whispered into his thick, warm chest. He pulled away from me.

“I am not saying this to upset you, rosa mia. I am saying this so that you see that I’ve been hurting too. I spent the last twelve years sleeping alone in my bed. I couldn’t touch another woman without immediately thinking about you. I spent years trying to figure out a way to get close to you without somehow ruining our deal.”

“Me too,” I confessed.

“If we only have tonight, I want it to be the most magical night of your life. Because you deserve it. We deserve it.” Elio looked down at the table before rising again. “Come on.” He grabbed my hand, and we started to walk out of the garden and down to the familiar beach path.

“It’s like time has stood still,” I responded, taking off my shoes so I could feel the sand beneath my feet. “I want to feel the ocean,” I confessed to Elio, my voice carrying a touch of melancholy.

Despite residing in San Diego with convenient access to the beach, there was an ethereal quality to this particular shoreline that held a profound significance to our relationship. It cradled our cherished moments, whispered secrets carried by the wind, and encapsulated a time in my life when I was given my freedom.

With each gentle breeze that swept across our faces, a bittersweet reminder echoed in my heart—the fleeting nature of liberation.

The weight of returning to the stifling world that awaited me loomed ominously, intensifying the significance of this precious moment. It felt like an opportune instant to relinquish the burdens that encased me and simply revel in the pure essence of freedom.

Elio smiled. “Let’s go then.”

I bounded off the path immediately, almost running toward the shoreline.

“Keep up, old man,” I playfully taunted, tossing my shoes onto the sand and lifting the hem of my dress to let the ocean waves caress my toes. As Elio finally caught up to me, his laughter filled the air.

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