Page 153 of A Beautiful Crime

His eyes turn down. The glittering emeralds I had always thought resembled my own. “Because I am,” he chokes out.

My face falls. I clutch his hands tighter. Acting as if he’ll float away if I let go. “Why must you say goodbye?”

Raising our hands he presses a gentle yet tender kiss to the back of my hand. He holds my hand close to his heart. He works a swallow, wearing a watery smile. “Because after I tell you the truth you will want to say goodbye.”

“What truth makes you believe I will cast you aside?”

“These truths I carry come as confessions la mia forte bellezza. And I only hope one day you will come to forgive me.”

My brows furrow in confusion as my heart gallops at a frightening pace. “Giuseppe, you’re beginning to worry me.”

He swipes another tear as it makes its descent. His hand caresses my face with a lingering touch before he pulls away. He tips his head towards the skylight. The sun's rays cast a glowupon his face. “Do you believe if I stand here long enough the warmth will absolve my sins?”

Wanting to comfort him I make a move towards him but he raises his hand for me to stop. He closes his eyes, soaking in the warmth, tears trailing down his face.

And the heartbreaking image reminds me too much of my former self.

Forgoing his handkerchief he wipes away his tears with his hands. He remains under the sky light as he focuses back on me. “Viola was a beautiful woman. You remind me so much of her.” Emotion clogs his voice and the affection he has for my mamma is palpable. I had been so lost in my own grief I had never thought of how he had felt. “I loved your mamma, Carina. I loved her in a way a butler shouldn’t have loved his employer. I loved her in a way a man shouldn’t have loved someone’s wife. And yet I did. She was my world. And for a brief moment in time I was her world, too.”

A confession.

A declaration of love.

A revelation of an affair.

How had I been so blind to see it?

But could I fault my mamma for finding tenderness in the hands of another man? Seeking the comforting embrace of arms meant to hold and not use as weapons? Could I fault her for basking in the warmth of a lover's gaze when all she had come to know was a bitter iciness?

And as I stare at Giuseppe, a man who has held a great sorrow in his eyes ever since her passing I don’t think I can.

He loved her.

For however brief their affair was he had loved her. Truly. Shamelessly. With no deceit or illusions. What he had felt for her, what he continues to feel, is real.

As shocking as it may be, I don't fault my mamma at all. It is a sin absolved.

“You don’t need my forgiveness for loving her,” I tell him. He smiles but it’s painful. His eyes tell me there’s more of a story to be told. And what lies ahead will be the ruin of us.

“I will never seek forgiveness for loving Viola. Loving her was one of the most pure feelings I have experienced in this corrupted world.” He takes a moment to collect himself. Screwing his eyes shut to take a collective breath.

“Almost twenty-seven years ago she gave birth to the most beautiful angelic baby girl. A daughter gifted from the heavens.” He speaks so endearingly of my birth it’s hard to keep a dry eye. “Even then you were blessed with the features of your mamma. There was no mistaking you were her daughter.” As I was young I remember Father Frank and the members of the Catholic Church raving about how much mamma and I were alike. Father Frank swore God had blessed us with another angel to walk amongst earth. And while Luca had some of her qualities and Elio her eyes they favor papa so much more.

“You have favored your mamma’s genes except for one. One feature that sets the two of you apart. The only feature your papa has passed down to you. Your eyes.”

My brows furrow as I stare at him perplexed. “You must be mistaken. Papa has blue eyes.”

He nods his head with tight lips. “Si, Savio Fiore does indeed have blue eyes but your papa doesn’t.”

My heart gallops in my chest. I can feel my airway constricting. “What are you saying?”

He remains silent, his eyes pleading with me for him to not confess.

But his eyes. . .

Emerald with flecks of gold.

Eyes the very same as my own.

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