Page 71 of Giovanni
Sitting in my truck outside the hospital, my heart feels like it’s shattering into a thousand pieces. Kacie’s refusal to hear me out, the hurt on her face, and the pain in her emerald eyes—it’s all too much. Tears are welling up, but I fight them back.
The thought that I might be causing her health to worsen guts me. All I’ve ever wanted to do is help her achieve her goals and become the best version of herself that she wants to be. The fact that her blood pressure rose enough to set off alarm bells makes me nauseous.
The fight within me rages, adhering to her wishes, leaving her alone, or showing her how much she means to me and fighting for us. The picture and the misunderstanding will not prevail. I won’t lose her so easily and over something that wasn’t my fault. Even though she’s pushing me away, I know what to do.
The florist’s shop that my parents always use is not far from here. I’m so preoccupied with Kacie that I’m unsure how I got here. Nonetheless, I slip from my truck, my steps heavy as I cross the parking lot and enter the shop. An elderly womangreets me as a team of people works in the back of the shop, assembling different arrangements.
“Can I help you with something?”
Her tone is soft like Kacie’s, making my chest ache that much more. I shake my head, not knowing what to order.
“I-I need to send something special.”
Send an apology. Send get well wishes. Send anything that will work to bring her to talk to me, to listen, and let me explain. I rub my face, my eyes burning from unshed tears and exhaustion.
“Someone I care about is in the hospital.”
Sensing my indecision, the elderly woman pats my arm and suggests something her coworkers are creating. She encourages me to follow her to a large bouquet with pink roses and white lilies. I nod, remembering Kacie’s comment about loving the lilies I sent to her office and how fragrant they were. While they finished arranging it, she suggested I get started on the card.
How do you condense everything you’re feeling inside into a few lines? I stand there stupefied until she sees me struggling.
“I find most things can be said in three lines.”
Then she hands me a larger card that can be folded over for privacy purposes.
“In case you need to say more.”
I take both sizes to the counter by the window, the sunshine bright on this otherwise cold day. Standing there, I hesitate, unsure how to start. Then, the words flow over the large card, pouring out of me and wanting to say more but running out of space. I deliberate over the close.
Do I write, Love Giovanni? Do I love her? I’m not sure. Do I care for her more than anyone I ever have before? Yes. Does she feel the same? If she doesn’t, will I be coming on too strong, too forceful, and scare her away as I wondered back at theapartment when I opened up about my sexual preferences. That seems a million miles away from where we’re at now.
Tears blur the words as I reread what I wrote, deciding to use her words from yesterday.
Yours, O.G.
I sniff and swipe a hand over my eyes, trying to gather my composure. Turning back to the florist, I see she’s added a bunch of balloons to the arrangement, making it even more special. I hand her my credit card, give her the hospital’s address and Kacie’s room number, and swiftly exit.
In the truck, I call my boss and leave a voicemail that I’m running late with a friend in the hospital but will arrive within the hour. The drive to my loft is quick, with my mind working through different approaches I could take, trying to solve the problem on my own and then dismissing them as worthless.
The moment I step in, her lingering scent hits my nostrils, adding to my sorrow. The makeshift tent stands like a painful reminder of what was to be a repeated performance, and I sprint past it into my bedroom, imprinted with memories of everything we have done.
My loft is as hard to be in as her asking me to leave. I rush to prepare, forgoing my usual meal prep to escape the warm cocoon I made for us. Getting to work in record time, I go straight to my desk to distract myself with today’s clients and schedules. Monday is always busy, and being late and forcing the few other trainers who are not sick to handle my load isn’t something I want to happen, but Kacie comes first.
Work isn’t the refuge I had hoped for as the day progresses, with flashes of her everywhere. Her sparkling eyes challenging me when teaching her proper squat form. Her laughter as I dance to the music overhead, trying to distract her when she wants to give up.
Her luscious body traversing the rows of equipment as she did walking lunges. Her collapsing on the floor in the quiet group fitness room gave me a stiffy, imagining her sprawled out under me. Everywhere I look is a flash, exchange, or memory of her, making my stomach tighten.
Marco senses a change in me and asks what’s bothering me. I shake my head, not knowing where to start, until he sits in the chair opposite my desk, just listening. Slowly, I unravel the last twenty-four hours, watching the emotion change on his face at different times until he slaps the desk between us.
“I knew I didn’t trust her.” His head shakes vigorously from side to side. “The way she played you, damn, bro.”
He isn’t helping by piling on.
“Marco.”
His hands are instantly in the air as if I have a gun at him.
“Sorry, sorry. I warned you to stay away, and now this.”
