Page 58 of I Think Olive You

And my heart aches with pride at knowing I’ve played a small part in it. It’s been worth it. She’s worth it all. One of Chiara’s kittens finds its way to us, winding between Giuliana’s legs, desperate for some attention. But she has eyes only for one thing and her mind speeds ahead, even after we leave.

“This is going to be so perfect. You’ve done such a good job. I doubt there will be much else we need but we could potentially start getting people in after the harvest!”

I manage a soft hum in agreement, trying to relish it while I can. Reaching into my back pocket I hand her the checklist.

“This is what you’ll need to make sure everything is above board, but yeah, it should be fairly close. You’ve got this.”

She presses the scrap of paper to her chest before folding it and tucking it into her own pocket.

“I can’t believe you did this, Teo. I’ll never be able to thank you. This could make such a big difference to the grove’s success. We’ll have volunteers to learn the trade and I’ll be able to use the money from the B&B to supplement teaching women in the area. It’s going to be wonderful!”

“There’s no need for thanks. I was glad to get to do this, to contribute a small bit to what I know is going to be a massive success. It was a team effort anyway. Isabella was a godsend with helping me source this stuff. I was just the muscle.”

Giuliana gifts me a smile that will keep me going through the lonely nights to come. If I ever question whether this was the right thing, that bright smile and those warm eyes will be the answer.

We walk back to the big house with her chatter filling my mind, the hand not currently within my grasp gesticulating as she speaks grand plans and dreams into the evening air. Night wraps us in a shroud of darkness—in a place where secrets are whispered between friends and wishes thrive. Where the sky listens and maybe, hopefully, grants them.

We part at the hallway between our rooms, a pause in the movement. Our hands outstretched for a moment to make the contact last as long as possible, she heads her way and I head mine. Our bedrooms are so close and too far. Pausing in her doorway, Giuliana looks back to where she’s left me and nods her head once more in thanks. And then she’s gone, reality clicking between us like the latch of her door.

I flop onto my bed, staring up at the black ceiling feeling both overjoyed and grieving. I’m out of time. Next week it’s the harvest and then…

The maw of the unknown gapes wide open, threatening to swallow me whole.

And then we go back to that nothingness where I hate you and you hate me and no one is around to notice the war we wage within. The voice in my head is almost poetic, almost sorry that it hurts me so much.

A light hits the ceiling, a square cutting through the black. It’s not my door opening, not as I hoped. It’s the vibrating phone on my bedside table, Alan’s name flashing across the screen. It’s time to face the music.

Aheartbeat passes—two—before I press the button and hold the screen against my ear.

And wait.

“What the fuck is the meaning of this?” Alan hisses, sounding incredibly far away. A lifetime away.

“I take it you got my fax?” Turning on the flippant attitude he expects, I can’t let him know there’s weakness here. I can’t give him anything he might try to exploit. Better he believes in my failure and ineptitude, than tender-heartedness… sentimentality.

“Matt, don’t play with me.” It’s little more than a growl and I understand for the first time how he could be intimidating. When you’re not looking at his ridiculous face, the flint in his voice is clear.

“I thought that you’d be happy.”

He scoffs, “And I thought you might actually have it in you.”

His words don’t hurt because I did. I had it in me to do the right thing, something beyond his scope of understanding. All I can do is deflect and hope it was enough. Abundantia is out of his grasp, even though I’m about to lose everything to him and the company, at least he can’t take this.

“Well, seems we’re both wrong. So, cut to the fucking chase already.” Tell me my punishment and let me drown in it.

“Come back. The anniversary of your father’s death is tomorrow. You have to come here, now.”

To formally relinquish my claim.

“That’s not going to work for me.” I can’t leave until the harvest, until I’ve seen this through and helped them as much as I can.

“I don’t give a shit what does and doesn’t work for you. You haul your ass back here, now.”

“What does it matter, Alan? I’m losing everything anyway, what’s a few more days? I told you I intended to stay until I’ve helped with the harvest and I plan to.”

There’s a loaded pause. I may have made a mistake somehow in saying that.

“You care enough to help but not enough to claim it?” The suspicion there confirms my fuck up and I swallow to keep the tremor from my voice as I respond.

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