I selected a summery black tank dress for the evening and low peep-toe heels that mimicked the shade of my dress. Giovanni arrived on time and had forgone the suit, and for the time first time since we met, he was dressed in designer jeans and a fitted polo shirt. I always had the impression that he was on the slender side: but the shirt showed off something I hadn’t expected, a toned physique that hadn’t been shaped overnight. It was a different side of him, and I expected it was one of many.
“You look beautiful,” he said when we arrived at the car.
I reached for the handle.
“Let me get that for you,” he said.
I smiled and waited like a high school girl on her first date for him to advance around the side of the car and open my door. There was no way I could ever get used to him doing that for me, it was just too weird.
The grassy area that surrounded the outdoor amphitheater was littered with blankets and picnic baskets that had been packed with a wide array of different items from tea sandwiches to bottles of wine. Everyone seemed content just to be there to take in such a perfect night.
“I should have brought a blanket,” I said. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I walked out the door and forgot all about it.”
Giovanni turned and smiled at me with his usual laid back attitude and then extended his right hand out with his palm up.
“Here we are,” he said.
On the grass in front of us was an entire set up—a blanket had been spread out, and in the middle of it was an open basket full of food and wine. He’d thought of everything.
“I see you went ahead,” I said.
“I had someone take care of this earlier,” he said. “Does this work for you?”
We were in the exact center of the lawn about a quarter up from the stage with a perfect view of the amphitheater.
I nodded.
Right before the first act came out, Giovanni reached into the basket next to him and pulled out two glasses.
“Red or white wine?” he said. “I wasn’t sure, so I brought both.”
“Red.”
He nodded and poured.
“I’d like to know more about you,” he said.
“I was thinking the same thing about you.”
“Ladies first.”
“Alright then,” I said. “Ask away.”
“Have you always lived here?”
“Not always. I grew up in a small town in California.”
“Why move?”
“My grandfather lived here. When I was a kid, I spent my summers here with my sister.”
“Gabrielle?”
I nodded.
“She was my only sibling,” I said. “It was always just the two of us. After I graduated, I came out for a visit and decided to stay, and I’ve been here ever since. Gabby stayed in California for a while and then joined me here about five years ago.”
“Ever marry?”
“Once,” I said.
“Hmm.”
“We were young,” I said. “Too young. And so different from each other. At the time I thought he was everything I could ask for in a person, but when I look back now, I realize I couldn’t have known what I wanted at the time. He saw things one way, and I saw things in another, and the two didn’t coincide. But even then, it was hard for me to walk away.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“When I commit to something or someone,” I said, “I’m all in, and it’s hard for me to back down from that, even when I know it’s the right thing to do.”
“But you did.”
I took a sip of wine, but what I really wanted was to grab the bottle and polish it off in one long swallow. It wasn’t easy for me to open up, and I was miles away from my comfort zone, but if I expected him to reciprocate, I knew I had to offer something.
“He started drinking,” I said. “At first it was just a few beers here and there, but the months forged on and January turned into June, and by that time he was a full-blown alcoholic.”
“Do you know what caused him to get that way?”
“Some days I thought it was me,” I said.
Giovanni’s hand grazed my knee.
“I doubt that.”
“He wanted kids. I think he thought kids would solve our problems, and that if I got pregnant, I wouldn’t leave.”
“And you didn’t?”
“I’ve always wanted children; it’s just that I haven’t been able to…”
What was I doing? I’d divulged more to Giovanni in a couple hours than I had with Nick in three years together.
“How did it end?”
“At the time I wanted to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps and join the FBI, and I was taking steps to begin that process, and he didn’t approve. He actually told me he wouldn’t stand for it, like my life was at his discretion. It was too much. I left, and I never went back.”
“And now?”
“I live life on my terms.”
He grinned and shook his head.
“I meant to say, how is your relationship with Detective Calhoun?”
Somehow I knew he would come up.
“Hard to explain,” I said.
“But you do have one?”
“Had,” I said. “I ended it about a week ago.”
It was all I wanted to say on the subject. Giovanni was quiet for several moments before he spoke again.
“I never thought Detective Calhoun was the right man for you.”
How could he possibly know whether he was or wasn’t?
“Ah, I can tell from the look on your face that I’ve offended you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “It’s just that you hardly know me. Nick isn’t such a bad guy. I’m just at a point in my life where I…”
What was it with me tonight? In one evening I’d turned into Chatty Cathy.
“When I look at you I see an independent woman, one who doesn’t take no for an answer. Someone who never backs down from a challenge. You’re as passionate about the cases you take on as the clients you work for. You like being in a relationship, but you don’t need it to survive. Would you like me to go on?”
I wanted to say something, but what, I didn’t know. He continued.
“I believe what happened to your sister affected you in a profound way, and that you’ve never gotten past it, even though you’ve tried. Somehow you’ve persuaded yourself to believe that once you catch the killer things will change, but deep down you know it will never bring you the peace of mind you long for. There will always be a void in your life, a hole that can’t be replaced. I too have lost the people I love—those closest to me. You learn to live with it, move on, and you do because you have to. But the pain doesn’t ever go away, not all of it.”
There was a time when I thought Nick knew me so well, but no one had ever come close to what I’d experienced with Giovanni in such a short amount of time. I looked around and noticed everyone had started to clap and had stood up and gathered their blankets, and I realized the concert was already over. I stood with Giovanni and then bent down and grabbed a corner of the blanket.
He placed his hand on my wrist. “Leave it,” he said. “Someone else will take care of that.”
The drive home was spent in an uncomfortable silence, for me anyway. Giovanni seemed content and had a permanent smile on his face for the entire ride. I couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of my overshare, and I was surprised I’d reminisced over a past I tried hard to forget. Once again I came away with little more information about Giovanni than I already knew about him. It was a disappointment.
We reached my house and Giovanni shut the car off and reclined back in his seat and gazed at me, which gave me the impression he wanted to continue our little chat. I didn’t.