The Star-Crossed Sisters of Tuscany(61)

Gabe runs a hand over his face. “Oh, cara mia. I am so sorry.”

I take a deep breath, images I’ve tried to forget coming back to me now. The blood on the Jeep’s dashboard. The sight of Liam’s lifeless hand, dangling from the gurney.

“He suffered massive internal injuries. His family arrived at the hospital. I swear his mom had aged ten years. While Liam was in surgery, I called Daria. I was crying so hard, I could barely speak. When she finally figured out what had happened, she let out a wail. I’ll never forget it. She sounded like a wild animal. ‘That fucking curse!’

“My sister’s no saint, but it was the only time I’ve heard her use the f-word. At first, I didn’t understand. But then it hit me. Daria, my biggest cheerleader, the one person who had always promised me there was no curse, actually believed in it.”

I close my eyes, a chill coming over me, just as it did eleven years ago, when the cause and effect of my cursed state settled in. “Until Daria said that, it never occurred to me that Liam’s near-death condition had anything to do with my curse. He and I had gotten too close, and the curse was determined to stop us. Just as it had done for centuries.”

Gabe’s arms encircle me. “Carissima, surely you were not responsible for his accident.”

“Over the next four days, Liam grew weaker. He was unresponsive. His organs were shutting down. On the fifth day, I went to the hospital chapel. I got down on my knees and begged God to let Liam live. I swore that if he spared Liam’s life, I’d break off the relationship. I promised I’d never see him again.”

“But Emilia, this makes no sense.”

“The very next day, Liam opened his eyes. By the weekend, he was answering questions by squeezing our hands. Ten days later, he was breathing on his own.

“As soon as he was well enough, I broke up with him in the gentlest of ways.”

Gabriele shakes his head. “Even though you loved this young man.”

I watch a robin circle an oak tree. “Which is why I couldn’t continue the relationship. The risk was too great. He was a beautiful person. I could’ve killed him.”

“But you broke his heart.”

“He was very civil about the whole thing. We would have fizzled out sooner or later anyway. My uncle Bruno got sick, and I ended up transferring to Brooklyn College so I could help at the store.”

“And of course your friend lived?”

I nod. “He made a full recovery. We talked and sent text messages for a while. But I kept my promise. I never saw him again.”

Gabe takes my head in his hands and gently smooths my hair. “It is simply coincidenza. This accident—his recovery—these had nothing to do with that preposterous curse.”

I lower my gaze, but Gabriele lifts my chin with his finger. “Please tell me you believe this.”

I look into his eyes. “I believe this,” I say.

And I realize how very good I’ve become at making believe I don’t believe.





Chapter 31




Emilia

Day Six

Trespiano

Saturday morning, we gather around the old wooden table, feasting on a breakfast of hard rolls and cheeses, fresh prosciutto and melon. Gabriele claps his hands. “Today we will tour the countryside. Everybody in?”

“Sure,” I say.

“I’ve got the kids,” Sofia says. She looks at Lucy. “But you have fun.”

“I’ll stay back with you guys,” Lucy says.

She’s choosing not to go with Gabe? Again? She’s definitely up to something.

“How about you, Poppy?” Gabriele asks.

She coughs and shakes her head. “I have much to do here, preparing for Ravello.”

A ripple of fear passes through me. The woman who never says no is begging off today. She’s ill—seriously ill. I should insist she go to the doctor, but for what? My aunt has a terminal illness. There is no pill that will cure it.

I bend down and kiss her cheek. “I’ll stay with you.”

“You most certainly will not!”

“Then promise you’ll rest today. And eat some fruit. Don’t forget to wear your sweater.”

She waves me off. “Don’t worry about me. I’m saving my energy for Ravello.”

It dawns on me as I follow Gabe around the front of the house, he and I will be alone. All day.

“We can cancel the tour,” I say, offering him an escape clause and praying he won’t take it.

“And break my heart?” He holds out his hand. “Come.” He leads me into an old stone garage. “With just the two of us, we can take the Vespas. It is best to see the countryside on two wheels.”

I freeze.

“Go on,” he says, gesturing to a pretty aqua Vespa. “Sit.”

My temples throb. I creep toward the motorbike as if it’s a caged beast. I will not ruin this day. I place my shoe on the footrest. Immediately, my body tenses.

“You do not like this one?”

“No. It’s beautiful.” I back away from the bike and take a deep breath. “But I don’t drive. Not anymore.”

He tips his head and studies me. I turn away, feeling silly and cowardly and utterly petrified. Finally, he holds out his hand and leads me over to a shiny black Ducati. “Then you will be my passenger.” He pats the seat. “Hop aboard.”