A Facade to Shatter(63)

So much for her resolve when her pulse picked up at the thought.

Zach took her to a large, beautiful villa with a view of the sea. She could tell because the lights of homes carpeting the island below them gave way to a vast inky darkness. The lights of a ship moved alone on that black surface, isolated from civilization.

She stood on the balcony and let the sea breeze ruffle her hair, feeling like that ship, adrift on an immense sea of uncertainty and fear.

“You should be sitting,” Zach told her. “You’ve had a rough day.”

“In more ways than one,” she replied.

“Yes.”

She felt bad for saying it then, for making him quietly accept her lingering animosity. But it was the only thing standing between her and complete capitulation, so she nursed it in wounded silence. Until it burst from her, like now.

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning to him. He stood so near, hands in pockets, dark eyes trained on her.

“Don’t be. I deserve it.”

She sighed. “No. I’m just afraid, Zach. Afraid it won’t be real.”

“Maui,” he said, his voice so quiet, and her heart pinched because he knew.

“Yes, Maui.” She took a deep breath. “We had such a perfect time there. I thought there was something between us, and then it stormed and you became a stranger to me. You showed me that I didn’t matter, that nothing we’d shared mattered.”

“I’m more sorry for that than you know. But I was damaged, Lia, and I was afraid of that damage somehow spilling over onto you. You, the sweetest, most innocent woman I’ve ever known. How could I tarnish that brightness of yours with my darkness?”

“You can’t be undamaged now,” she said, shaking her head. “Not in a month. Not ever. So how do you propose to reconcile what you think of as damage—which I think of as life, by the way—with our relationship now? Will the first dream or episode send you running again?”

He sighed. “I deserve every bit of your condemnation. No, I am not undamaged. But none of us are, are we? I’m learning to cope with that.” He paused for a moment. “I found the medal you left behind. I put it with the others. And they’re in my desk drawer at home, where I see them every day when I open it. I earned them with my blood and sweat and tears. And I owe it to those who gave their lives for me to honor their memories by not running from my own.”

A chill slid down her spine as he spoke. And she knew, deep in her heart, that what he said was true. That he’d turned a corner somewhere in his journey and he was finally on the way to healing.

She took a step toward him, reached up and caressed the smooth skin of his jaw. “Zach,” she said, her heart full.

He turned his face into her palm and kissed it. “I love you, Lia Corretti Scott. Now and forever. You saved me.”

A dam burst inside her then. She went into his arms with a tiny cry, wrapped herself around him while he held her tight. This was what it meant to love and be loved. To belong.

“No, I think we saved each other.”

“Does this mean you still love me?” he asked, his voice warm and breathless in her ear.

She leaned back so she could see his face. His beautiful, beloved face. “I never stopped, amore mio. I never could.”

“Grazie a Dio,” he said. And then he kissed her as a full moon began to rise from the sea, lighting their world with a soft, warm glow.





EPILOGUE



LIA WOKE IN the middle of the night. She sat up with a start, certain she’d heard a cry. It was raining outside, a typical summer storm. A jagged bolt of lightning shot across the sky, followed by a crack of thunder.

The bed beside her was empty, the sheets tossed back. She grappled on the nightstand for the baby monitor, but it was gone. Sighing, she climbed from bed and put on her robe. Then she padded out the door and down the hallway to the nursery.

Zach looked up as she entered. He was sitting in the rocking chair, cradling their son in his arms while the baby cooed and yawned. Zach smiled, and her heart lurched with all the love she felt for the two men in her life.

“I believe it was my turn,” she said tiredly.

“I was awake,” he said, shrugging.

“A dream?” she asked, thinking of the storm and worrying for him.

“I was dreaming, yes,” he said. “But not about the war.”

“You weren’t?”