It was so hard to hear what she thought of me now, so I turned away, staring out at the waves.
“I’m confused about what you want from me, Sebastian,” she went on, her voice serious and determined. “One minute you say we’ve been given a second chance and that we should try again, and the next minute you’re blaming me for every bad decision you’ve taken in the last ten years. If you hate me that much, if you resent me that much, why am I here?”
“I don’t hate you, Caro,” I said quickly.
“Sebastian, you called me a liar; you said you could never trust me.”
I winced, hating to have my words thrown back at me.
“You asked me to come with you on this trip,” she said crisply, “and then the first time something goes wrong, you fling the past in my face. If you really believe I did what I did because I didn’t care, then I don’t see how we’re going to get past that.”
My hope, which had never been great to begin with, drained away.
“Look,” she sighed when I didn’t speak, “I wouldn’t be who I am now if I hadn’t met you—that’s the truth. I’d probably still be locked in a loveless marriage. But that’s only half the story.”
That made me look up.
“It was really tough for me when I got to New York. I had almost no money, no contacts, nowhere to live, no job. Do you want to know how I survived? I cleaned people’s houses; I scrubbed their toilets. For three years. Until eventually I earned enough from my writing.”
“I didn’t know,” I said, sad beyond words that she’d had to struggle so hard.
“No, because you didn’t give me the chance to answer you last night.”
I decided that I needed to know more about the missing ten years, but there was only one important question left for me to ask.
“You said you dated a couple of times.”
“Excuse me?”
She sounded surprised. Well, she knew my dating history—I needed to know hers.
“The first night we talked. I asked you if you were seeing anyone, and you said you’d dated a couple of times.”
“Yes, so?”
“When?”
“What, you want dates?”
“Yes.”
She sighed and shook her head, but she wasn’t saying no.
“I met Bob on my 35th birthday when I was having drinks with friends. We dated for three months and then he was transferred to an office in Cincinnati. Eric was a couple of years later: we dated for about six weeks before he dumped me for a younger woman.”
I waited for more but she just stared at me.
“That’s it?” I questioned.
I was stunned. She’d waited five years before she’d dated anyone after she left me? Seriously?
“I had a one night stand with a reporter when I was on assignment in Mexico,” she said defiantly, her head held high. “That’s it. Now you know my entire sexual history. Although I very much doubt you could be as succinct about yours.”
I had to concede a wry smile. “I deserve that,” I admitted.
She closed her eyes and leaned back.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She shook her head slowly and her lips turned down. “Not really.”
I was tired of trying to think of the right thing to say, so I just told the truth.
“I am sorry, Caro. I just get fucked up in the head sometimes.”
Her eyes were still tinged with hurt and anger.
“You can’t deal with it by lashing out at me,” she sighed. “And I can’t deal with it if you keep blaming me for something I can’t change.”
We’d come so far and waited so long, and if last night had taught me anything, I wanted this second chance. Badly. And I was fucking it up. Again. My head sank into my hands as I mumbled a reply.
“Don’t give up on me, Caro.”
“Last night I thought you’d given up on me,” she said firmly.
I really wanted to kick my own ass.
“Can we start again, Caro?” I asked, no longer too proud to beg. “I promise I’ll try not to fuck up again.”
She took a deep breath.
“Sebastian, it’s not a case of starting again; it’s about working things through when we have a problem. Funny enough, it was you who taught me that, ten years ago: you made me face up to things. You can’t promise me you won’t fuck up, because you will. And I can’t promise you that I won’t fuck up, because I will. We can deal, and we can move on. Or, we can say it’s been an interesting few days, and go our separate ways.”
I reached over and took her hand carefully, examining her narrow wrist and slender fingers.
“I want to go on,” I admitted to her, to myself. “With you.”
She stared at me for several long seconds, and I had the weirdest sensation that she was trying to read my mind.
“Okay, then,” she breathed out slowly. “Let’s try.”
“And I promise not to sleep with your best friend, especially if it’s that scary British woman I saw you with in Geneva.”
I hoped my lame joke would lighten the moment, but her expression told me it was too soon for that.
“Sorry,” I said quietly. “Another foot-in-mouth moment.”
She pulled her hand free and sat back to pick up the cup of lukewarm espresso in front of her. Absentmindedly, I watched her lips as she sipped her coffee, forcing some pieces of bread into my mouth, hoping it would help settle my stomach.
“Did they say anything about last night?” I asked suddenly, realizing that I’d left Caro with a fucked up situation to deal with. “The people at the villa?”
“Not really,” she said mildly. “They were mostly embarrassed. I think we’ve managed to ruin it for any other Americans who might want to stay there. But the old lady told me that you’d be back.”
That surprised me.
“Really?”
“Yes,” she said with a half smile, “and I’m pretty certain it was me not you she was applauding last night. She probably thought I should get a medal for putting up with you.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “a Purple Heart.”
“Wounded in action?” she asked seriously.
My smile slipped away. “I’m really sorry about what I said.”
She shook her head slowly. “We’re moving on, remember? But, for the record, apology accepted.”
I looked down and ate some of the pieces of bread roll, more for a distraction than anything else.
“I got drunk and fell asleep on the beach,” I admitted. “In case you were wondering.”
I didn’t want Caro to think I’d spent the night with another woman.
She looked away and frowned.
“Well, thank you for telling me.”
“I panicked when I woke up: I thought you might have gone. And then I saw you walking along the road. At first I was relieved but then … I just thought you’d walked out on me. That’s why I was…”
“…such an ass?”
I managed a rueful smile at her sharp comeback.
“Yeah, that about sums it up.”
“Well, like I said, thank you for telling me.” She took a deep breath and tried to smile. “Now, what’s the big plan for today?”
She was letting me off the hook. Thank fuck for that.
“I thought we could go to Pisa—take a look at that big, old leaning tower. It’s about two hours away.”
“Sure, that sounds fun.”
Her smile wasn’t 100% natural, but she was trying. I guess we both were.
I swallowed a few more pieces of roll, hoping it would soak up the remainder of the alcohol in my system, then threw some Euros on the table and stood up to go. Without thinking, I held out my hand to Caro. Her reaction was a little strained, but she took my hand and I wrapped my fingers around hers, squeezing gently.
We walked to the bike and I pulled on my leather jacket as she stowed her luggage in the saddlebags, refusing to meet my gaze.
“I really want to kiss you,” I said, hoping that she’d truly forgiven me.
She hesitated, and my stomach dropped to my boots before she looked up and nodded once.
“Okay.”
Relieved that she was going to let me touch her, I rested my hands on her waist and brushed my lips to hers. She pulled back quickly.