Page 30 of My Dark Ever After

Only a select few got to see him as he had been last night at dinner, sitting back casually in his chair with his thighs spread, a nephew on one knee, tucked to his chest as he dozed off against his uncle. His hair had fallen over his forehead, his stubble overgrown and a direct contrast to the ruddy softness of his mouth. He’d laughed once or twice, that rich belly laugh that made my skin break out in goose bumps.

Only a select few, and I was one of them.

Love is not something that recognizes just the good in someone. It sees the bad and ugly. It acknowledges the dark because it accepts every part of who a person is. I am not all good. I am not even divided wholly in half. But whatever good I am I would give to you. All I ask for in return is that you love me for who I am.

His words from last night echoed in my head like a song stuck on repeat.

Because he was right.

I had finished reading Dante’sDivine Comedywhen I returned to Michigan, as if Dante’s words could keep me connected to Italy, a last lifeline I wasn’t willing to relinquish. There were dozens of quotes I’d annotated with red pen, but one stood out more than most.

“The day that man allows true love to appear, those things which are well made will fall into confusion and will overturn everything we believe to be right and true.”

The truth of those words was a mirror held before my face, impossible to ignore. Loving Raffa had turned my world upside down not once but twice. Here I was back in his country, in his stronghold, held against my will in order to ensure my safety in a contradiction that embodied the nature of our entire relationship.

He wanted to keep me safe, but he was the danger.

He wanted to love me, but he did not trust me.

My soul called out for the beauty of his even as my mind turned away from the horrible things I knew he’d done.

My body was a battlefield between rationality and passion, and Raffa was right—eventually there had to be a winner. Not just for my sake, but also for his.

I just wasn’t sure which side would win out.

Even if I loved him enough to accept his darkness, I didn’t know if I was brave enough to harness mine.

Zacheo finished eating the rest of my chocolate-coveredcornettoand then smacked a sticky hand on my cheek, smiling so bright he took my breath away. For one brutally vivid moment, sharp and bright as a diamond, I imagined that my children with Raffa might look something like Zacheo.

“Che buono!” he exclaimed.

“Delizioso,” I agreed, giving in to the urge to rub my nose against his.

He giggled, squirming to get away from me even as he kept his hand on my cheek.

“Will you go to the festival with Mamma and me this weekend?” he asked, moving his dirty fingers to the gold chain around my throat and flicking thecornicellolucky charm back and forth. “There’s dancing.”

“It is the Grape Festival in Impruneta,” Carlotta told me as she came back outside and sat with a sigh of exhaustion on the bench beside me. “We take the little ones every year.”

“We can all go together,” Ludo grunted, then shrugged at me when I shot him a surprised look. “They give out free wine.”

“You can walk on the grapes with your toes,” Zacheo shouted into my face, smacking my cheek to emphasize his excitement.

“Lower your voice,” Stacci and Carlotta reprimanded at the same time.

“You can walk on the grapes with your toes,” Zacheo repeated quietly. “Want to come?”

“Definitely,” I agreed, ready to let this family distract me from reality, at least until Raffa returned.

Chapter Eight

Guinevere

The grape festival in Impruneta was incredible.

I was used to parades. We had them for Easter and Christmas, but this was something else entirely. There were floats shaped like wine bottles and stands for local wineries, dancers in wonderful costumes that were later judged for the prize of a terra-cotta wine cup. It was the last day of a monthlong celebration, the crowd large but jovial, kids running around while parents sipped wine and chatted in clusters.

Zacheo held my hand while we watched the parade and then demanded to be put on my shoulders. I wasn’t very tall, but I perched him there anyway, grateful when Emiliano asked the man in front of us to move to the side so his son could see the proceedings.