Page 60 of I Think Olive You

“My father’s death. I had one year to prove myself.”

She sighs, and I wish I could do the same. If I could just suck in enough air and release all my feelings out along with the exhale my life would be so much simpler.

“I’m sorry, Matteo. I know it doesn’t change anything with the man in charge but you did prove yourself. To me and Giuliana, and every person that relies on Abundantia to live and thrive. You made a difference here.”

All I can do is nod, emotion choking any words from escaping.

“Will you say goodbye before you go?”Isabella asks.

I can’t help but wonder if she means to Giuliana or to her. To her and Chiara and all the people here who have wormed their way into my chest, diving into the decay.

“I—” don’t know if I can promise that but I can’t finish the sentence.

“Get some sleep, we have a long week ahead of us.” Dismissing me without another word, Isabella turns away and back down the corridor.

Harvest is coming and the air is heavy with ripe fruit and my regret.

Time, like reality, is cruel and comes swiftly. The harvest arrives in a few breaths and I soak it all in. Soak her in. God, she’s beautiful. Giuliana moves with a grace that comes with familiarity and confidence. This is where she belongs and that refrain echoes over and over as I watch her work through the culmination of all our effort. The farm workers have stashed away their baskets for the day, their haul ready to be sorted and shipped to the mill for processing, but still she carries on.

Although, “workaholic” isn’t what I see when I watch her. I know what that looks like, having lived with that my whole childhood. Giuliana cares. She keeps going to honor her father. Her hands are calloused, same as her employees. Even now, she has a smudge of dirt on her forehead where she tried to wipe sweat away and only succeeded in getting dust tacked onto her face.

The early evening light reflects in her brilliant eyes as she prattles on and I take a long, heady breath. The first cold fingers of autumn tint the air. The breeze is thick with the smell of the earth we’ve walked all over for the last two days. Olive fruit that hasn’t made the cut litters the bases of the trees and the distant sounds of revelry pierce the night.

Nonna helped by delegating in the kitchen today—smacking more than a few hands when their culinary skills weren’t up to snuff or they tried to sneak food too early. I think I even heard an English cussword thrown in once or twice and it warms the fucked-up cockles of my traitorous heart.

Chiara chased down the rows, chattering with everyone as we worked—a flash of tanned skin and bare feet in my periphery. Too excited to be still but too fickle to be a real nuisance—she hung around me and Giuliana the most.

Italy… Abundantia specifically has grown on me, to the point where I’m surprised I’m not covered in vines already, like the old farmhouse is.

And Giuliana…

She’s a punch to the gut every time I look at her.

Feeling my gaze, she looks up at me. She’s noticed my attention is only partly focused on what she’s saying as we walk, carrying the last few things we need for the party.

“It’s been a long day. I’m boring you.” Giuliana shrugs like it doesn’t bother her. But I’ve been watching her for weeks, scavenging for the parts of her that she doesn’t like to share.

“Not at all, I’m just tired.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings.”

Oh, but darling I do and I have no other choice.

“It’s not a lie. It’s the furthest thing. You light up when you talk about this and I can see how much it means to you. I’ve watched you work yourself into exhaustion and then get back up the next morning as if it was nothing. You are astounding.” I want to say so much more.

But the words don’t come.

Won’t come.

Not when I know how cruel it would be to cut the wound even deeper. She will never forgive me. Giuliana lives her life without guile—genuine. I’ve lied to her for weeks for my own gain. Best I tuck tail and leave, slink back to New York and nurse my wounds in private. Even though I’ve surrendered my delusions of grandeur into her perfect, work-hardened hands it doesn’t matter.

Giuliana doesn’t need to know I’m devastated, ruined completely, with every moment in her presence.

I don’t realize that we’ve trekked up the hill to the massive old tree that started it all until Giuliana comes to a stop. Pressing her palm against the bark, she strokes her thumb over it with reverence.

“I’m so tired.” Her voice breaks, shoulders rounding in as if finally bowing under an invisible weight.

“Lia—”

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