Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twenty-Three

"This was not the news you were hoping for, was it?"

My eyes open slowly as he continues.

"This was...why you had the panic attack."

It's not a question. Neither really is. They are statements, facts he's already puzzled together in his head. The longer I don't answer him, the more I'm sure I don't want to ruin anything for him with my worry. I don't want to disrupt this piece of happiness I know he's glad for. Lifting my cheek from his shoulder, I give him the only answer I can.

"I don't want to think about that now," my lips catch the corner of his jaw, "Just hold me, please."

He only nods in answer, surrounding me when I shiver.

...

I wake in darkness, head pressed against the mattress instead of the pillow. Disoriented, I reach out, fingers splaying out, finding only cold sheets. My eyes close again, a melancholy feeling rushing through me when I realize I'm at home and Giovanni is not here.

And yet, I feel the oversized t-shirt bunched around my waist beneath the quilt. It isn't until I hear soft music that relief sweeps through me. I'm still in the cabin. Giovanni is still nearby. I sit, pulling my knees up to my chin, rubbing my aching eyelids. Eying my phone on the nightstand when I search for the time, I reach and grab it, not surprised to see missed texts and calls. I write back to Norman, letting him know the fevers passed and that I'm alright. I answer Rebecca's long list of questions, letting her know I'll be in late tomorrow. My fingers go sore while I text back clients and secretaries, still getting used to the volume of concerns and complaints and deeds that are now required of me as CEO of NWPR.

I'm glad to leave the phone on the nightstand, heaving myself off the bed to brush my teeth and wash my face. I'm nearly to the door when my hand halts on the doorknob, the weight of the confession and day paralyzing me momentarily, forcing me to gear myself up to whatever I'm about to walk into. Surely, Giovanni has questions, worries that have set upon him when the initial shock wore off.

I open the door, and the soft jazz intensifies to a soft hum.

My feet stop working the moment they press upon softness, my eyes drinking in the sight of the cabin with surprise. Scalding tears pool and blur my vision at the sight of a room filled to the brink with red roses. Vases of every size and shape, overwhelmed by fully-bloomed, vibrant roses, rest on almost every surface. Candles are the only source of light, making the room glow in a comforting, sensual haze. Under my feet are rose petals, and they lead into the fragrant space, scattered delicately along the wooden ground.

My mouth hangs open as I step further into the room, looking everywhere at once.

"Giovanni?"

I search for him, coming up short. Suddenly, there are hands on my waist and my smile widens when Giovanni presses his lips to my shoulder.

"What is this for?" I ask, warmly, tilting my face into his mouth when he straightens.

"I just wanted to do something for you."

My eyes close. "You do so much for me already."

Stunned by the romantic gesture, and the day I've had, it's truly hard to keep my composure. My teeth sink into my lip, to keep the tumbling mess from showing itself. Like the dress he made for me when we'd only just met, the trip he made on Christmas to be with me—this is an effort he made simply to see me happy.

I turn in his arms, all worries set aside. My eyes lift to his as he urges my face to tilt. He's in different clothing, a forest green sweater and black slacks, although he is barefoot. The outfit is fashionably him, fit to perfection, colors ideal with his skin tone and features. His thumbs nick the corners of my eyes, stopping the tears before they have the chance to fall. I try to think of something to say that's better than thank you, knowing it's too trivial for what he's been like today.