WANTED: Love of my Life

17. No, one plus one makes two

But I might as well have stopped. After all, his legs were much longer than mine. I ought to have remembered that. Hadn't I stared at them often enough?

“Angela.” His voice, softer, but also tenser now, came from right behind me. Sighing and screwing up my courage, I stopped and turned slowly around. There he was, standing before me, looking like he had just sprung from the pages of a Gucci catalog for casual wear. He was at least two heads taller than me, and I had to bend uncomfortably to look up into his face. Not that I would have minded. I would have done anything to be able to look at his face – if the sight had given me anything but pain.

“What is it, Giacomo?” I asked, and was surprised at how tired and weak my own voice sounded.

“You... you dropped this the other day.” He held out his hand. On his open palm lay a slender silver ring. “When you... ran into me.”

“Oh.” My right hand reached for my left, not finding the ring on its accustomed place. No wonder I hadn't noticed its absence – my subconscious had probably been so relieved it was gone that it had done everything in its power to prevent that.

Tentatively, I reached out for the ring. When I was just about to take it from his hand, he closed his fingers around mine and held my hand. I didn't move an inch.

“I just wanted to give it back to you,” he said, taking a deep breath. “And... and I wanted to apologize.”

Apologize? For what? His behavior over the last few days? That was certainly something he should apologize for. But whatever it was he wanted to say, I didn't want to hear it. In his eyes, I saw only cold, hard determination, nothing more. I knew that he hadn't changed his mind. Whatever he was going to say, it could only bring me more pain.

Hastily, I tried to pull away.

“No, Giacomo, it's all right, whatever it...”

“No!” His voice was almost a snarl. “It was not all right. What I did was wrong. Profoundly wrong. I... do not pretend to approve of your parents giving you away at such an early age. In my opinion, you are much to young to make such a big step in life. But that doesn't make my attempt to defile your honor any less despicable. Quite the contrary, in fact. To do what I did to someone as young and innocent as you... that was the act of a figlio di puttana!”

I blinked up at him. Whatever I had been about to say to him was wiped clean from my mind. What the hell was he talking about? My parents giving me away? As far as I heard, I wasn't up for adoption. Not that I didn't think Cathy hadn't wished for that often enough. But when I had come home with the third F in a row, my mother had always found a kind word for me. She would never consider getting rid of me. Somehow, though, I didn't think that was what he meant.

“It only remains for me,” he continued gravely, “to offer you my sincerest apologies once again, and wish you all the happiness in the world. If I may ask... who is the lucky man?”

If I'd hoped his next words would make sense of his rambling speech, I was sorely disappointed.

“What lucky man?” Staring up at him, my brow furrowed. For once, I was actually too puzzled to feel pain at the sight.

He let go of my hand and nodded to the ring, as I slid it back onto my finger.

“The lucky man, of course – the one you're betrothed to.”

Were my ears working right? Or perhaps I had gotten the word wrong. Betrothed? I only knew it from history lessons, and that meant my memory probably wasn't all that reliable.

“Betrothed?” I echoed. “You mean... engaged? Me? Engaged?”

“Yes, of course.” Now his brow were furrowed, his teeth clenched. “Who is it?”