I turned around as Sergio slowly approached, his hair disheveled, his face calm, his body strong. I’d remember him always — his sharp jaw, his defined lips, his gorgeous icy-blue eyes, long shaggy pirate hair… or as I’d remember… historical-romance duke hair that would make any girl with a pulse swoon.
He was my hero.
My white knight.
Granted, he was missing a horse.
But his heart — damn, it was strong.
He didn’t have armor… then again, men like Sergio? Rarely needed it.
His steps were purposeful, his full mouth curving into a sad smile.
Beautiful… and mine — a gift I’d never deserve but forever cherish. I winked and then sat down, the grass tickling my legs. I pulled the afghan tighter against my body as I waited for his approach.
For the final moment.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Sergio
I’D KNOWN IT BEFORE SHE’D EVEN woke me up.
Something in my soul had stirred… maybe it was because we were connected at such a deep level that her thoughts were my own; her feelings, the same.
I followed her into the field, grinning when she gave me that coy look I’d been so used to seeing — the same one that had been missing from her face for the past week.
“Wanted to go for a midnight run, huh?” I teased.
Andi laughed. “Yeah, well, you know me. I like to keep you on your toes and all that. Italians aren’t known for their spontaneity.”
“Who uses big words this early in the morning?”
Her eyebrows arched. “Russians.”
I held out my hand.
She stood and gripped it.
“Twirl.”
“Huh?”
I kissed her softly. “This…” I stood back and glanced at her pajama pants and T-shirt. “…is a two-twirl outfit — maybe three.”
“Oh yeah?” Tears welled in her eyes.
“Yeah.” I nodded then slowly twirled her, one, two, three times, bringing her into my arms and kissing her again, slowly dancing side to side. “You’re beautiful.”
“Nope.” She pulled back. “Not doing this. You know we never would have worked, right?”
I sat on the ground and pulled her into my lap. “Oh yeah?” My hands danced across her arms, rubbing them back and forth, trying to bring warmth into her cold body. “Why’s that?”
“You hate vodka and never even finished the honeymoon list!”
I laughed. “We finished the important parts.”
“True.” She laid her head against my chest and let out a huge sigh. “You know you don’t really love me, right?”
“Yes, I do. Don’t tell me how to feel.” I pulled her against me and kissed her nose, feeling semi-aggravated she would doubt me.
“Nope.” She shook her head. “I refuse to believe it. Wanna know why?”
“Not particularly, no, but saying no to you is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Should I sit down for this?”
“No, but you can hold me.”
“I’m already doing that.”
“And you are sitting down, silly Italian.”
“Such a good student.”
She flicked my nose.
“I was your teacher first, smart ass.”
“One day…” She sighed happily. “…you’re going to fall in love, and it’s going to be epic and beautiful and heartbreaking.”
“I feel that way now.” My words felt thick as I clenched her body tighter.
“I refuse it!” she said in a stern voice. “Because that makes our story too tragic, and I don’t do tragic. I think we deserve a happy ending… so you and me? We’re best friends. We have a lot of firsts together. But imagine us growing old, Sergio? You’d steal the remote. I’d bang you on the head with a baseball bat.”
“Don’t forget the pots and pans,” I said, laughing.
“I mean, who does that?” Andi finished. “Imagine our children!”
“They’d be beautiful,” I said reverently.
“They’d be American-born Sicilians with a slice of Russian — they’d be horrible.”
I burst out laughing. It felt good to laugh. That was Andi; I knew what she was doing, even in her last moments — trying to cheer me up. Maybe she could sense my heart breaking. Maybe she could hear it. I knew I could.
“And don’t even get me started on the way you steal all the covers, Sergio. Not very classy and, I mean, you do snore.”
“I purr.”
“You snore,” she corrected. “And you sing like shit.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s the truth.”
“No sugarcoating, hmm, Russia?”
“No, Sicily, no sugarcoating.”
“So where does that leave us?” I was almost afraid to ask.
“With goodbye.” She shrugged then kissed me softly across the lips. “But it’s going to be a hell of a goodbye… with kissing, hugging — no tears though. Don’t go all soft on me. Russians don’t cry.”
“Even when Russians watch Frozen?”
“You were sworn to secrecy! You know that means I have to kill you.”
“Do your worst.” I held open my arms, but, instead of hitting me, she just leaned back, her head resting against my chest.
“Remember this moment, Sergio… when I’m gone… and please, for the love of God, smile don’t go back to that place. Don’t get angry, don’t get resentful, just smile… because we had a chance. It was short, but we still had it. And that, my friend, is a beautiful ending, remember?”