I’m sitting in the kitchen, nursing one of too many espressos, when he walks inside and throws his duffel bag down on the ground.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asks.
I’m already raring to go. I immediately get up, almost knocking over my coffee. “What’s wrong with me?” I ask snidely. “What happened to the good old-fashioned mi dispiace?”
He glowers at me, all black arched eyebrows and dark searing eyes; I’d forgotten how good he looks when he’s pissed off. “Paolo explained what happened.”
“Yes, he did. Because you were too drunk.”
“I didn’t mean to get drunk.”
“I’m sure that’s why you ended up in a bar.”
He crosses his arms across his chest and straightens up. This makes him look massive and imposing but I’m not fooled. All the best douchebags look like studs at one time or another. “We had a good day and we were celebrating. We got carried away. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Oh, it wasn’t a big deal,” I repeat. “Not to you. What about to me? I haven’t seen you for a fucking week and you get too drunk on the night you’re supposed to come here? To spend time with me?” Suddenly, all the anger is pooling into tears. I don’t like it. I like it better when I’m a raging beast, not a sappy girl on the verge of a meltdown. I try to blink them back and control the wavering in my voice. “You had time to go to a bar with your friend, who you’ve been with all this time, instead of catching an earlier ferry home. Why didn’t you come home? You knew I was waiting for you. Didn’t you want to see me? Or your brother and sister, for that matter?”
He swallows hard and looks away, his shoulders slouching, and he doesn’t look so massive anymore. Instead, he looks as defeated as I feel. “I just want to have some fun,” he says quietly.
“Well, that’s all fucking great for you!” I say, too loud for my own good. “But what about me? I want to have fun, too. Instead I’m stuck here with the kids while you’re out there living your dream and getting drunk with friends and having fun without me.”
“But this is your job,” he says to me, and I feel the color drain out of my face. “You are paid to be here to take care of them. You do your job and I do mine.”
My eyes burn like fire while moisture floods my mouth. I swallow. “So that’s what this is?” I say quietly. “It comes down to my job? You do what you do and I do what I’m supposed to do?”
“That’s why you’re here, is it not?” he asks, and I’m stunned he even thinks to say this out loud.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m here because of you.”
He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Well, if you are here because of me then you must take the bad with the good. You don’t understand, Amber. I have been tied to this house, to them, to this island, for over a year. I have given up everything and I have finally gotten it back. Now you want me to give it up all over again?”
“That is not what I’m saying!” I tell him angrily. “I’m not asking you to give up anything. I’m asking you to cut me some slack. To help me out. To fucking come home when you say you’re going to come home. I mean, it’s been a week, Derio. A week. Didn’t you want to see me? Didn’t you miss me?”
He nods, looking away. “I did. I do. But I was going to see you in Rome. I don’t see the big deal. I knew you would be fine here with the children.”
“But I’m not fine!” I yell. “I am not fine. I haven’t been fine for a long time now. Derio, I am fucking miserable being stuck in this goddamn empty house for weeks on end. I am only here because of you. Not the money, not even the twins, even though I love them dearly. I’m here because of you. I have given up everything to make sure you can do what you love, and meanwhile I’ve lost the thing that I love the most: you.”
He stares at me. “You haven’t lost me.”
“Then you’ve lost me,” I say. “Either way, it’s gone.”
He frowns in disbelief. “What are you saying?”
I breathe out slowly, in disbelief at what I’m about to say. “I’m saying that I can’t do this anymore. This was never the role I wanted but I stuck by it to be with you. Now you’re barely here and I have to do it all by myself. It’s not worth it, Derio. I’m not cut out for this kind of job. The twins are too much responsibility and I just can’t handle it. I was never meant to be the nanny. I’m not the right person.”
“Look,” he says quickly, stepping closer to me. There’s a wildness in his eyes. “Just because you lost them one time—”
“That one time was enough!” I snap. “It made me realize that my parents were right. That I can’t handle it, and I’m not cut out for anything like this. I’m useless, helpless. I’m not their mother and I’m reminded of that every day. I can’t handle their activities or anything to do with school, I don’t speak the language, and I’m not from here.”
“You can learn,” he suggests. “You know so much already.”
“I don’t want to be their nanny!” I tell him. “That’s what it comes down to. I don’t want to do it anymore. I want them in my life and I want to be with you, but this just isn’t working.”