Page 269 of The Havenport Collection

Gio

June

“ Y ou’re pacing, aren’t you?” Matteo asked.

I rolled my eyes; he knew me too well.

“I assume from your silence the answer is yes. He’s pacing,” he shouted, and I heard his girlfriend, Eliza, and my niece, Valentina, in the background.

“Of course he’s pacing,” Valentina replied. “He’s meeting his one true love after a long time apart. What if she has amnesia? Or is engaged to another man? Will you fight for her, Uncle Gio? That would be soooo romantic.”

I stifled a laugh. My niece was nothing if not imaginative and dramatic. “Why is she still awake?”

“Family movie night,” Matteo grumbled.

“What is this kid watching—she’s only eight.”

“Oh, I know it. Turns out I didn’t have the parental controls set up properly on Netflix, and she’s been mainlining all the K-dramas on her iPad when the babysitter thinks she’s doing homework.”

“Awww. She’s so much smarter than you already.”

“Trust me, I know. Thank God for Eliza; she figured it all out and now Val’s stuck watching Sesame Street until she’s thirty.”

I heard a shuffle and then Eliza’s voice on the other end of the phone.

Unlike my grumpy bastard of a brother, his girlfriend was a lovely person who always saw the good in everyone.

“Gio. Just breathe,” she said calmly. “I know this happens every time she comes back. But you are a grown man with a full, lovely life. There is no need to be nervous.”

I was always a bit nervous to see Sam, but knowing that she was staying a while sent me into a tailspin.

In our WhatsApp chats, she mentioned she would be here for a few months. I could handle the roller coaster of emotions that involved seeing Sam for a week, maybe two, but I wasn’t sure I could handle more.

Because Sam made me feel things. Deep, complicated things that needed room to grow and breathe.

I preferred my life to be simple and straightforward. I avoided drama and didn’t really stretch myself emotionally, especially when it came to women. So the thought of months with Sam in town sent me into a blind panic. Would I be able to hide all my messy feelings?

Because we were only friends. Every time she visited, we fell back into the same patterns from childhood. Comfortable patterns worn in over decades of friendship. Or would things be different now that we were on the same continent for the first extended amount of time in nineteen years?

It was too much.

“Thanks Eliza. And it’s not that I’m nervous. I’m really excited; it’s just every time she visits I get all mixed up.”

“I know you do. Because you are a beautiful soul, Gio. And you shouldn’t be ashamed of that. I understand the need to protect your heart, I truly do, but sometimes it’s better to just be honest.”

While I appreciated what Eliza was saying, there was no way in hell I was doing that.

I would do what I always did—be Gio, the sarcastic, charming guy who was Sam’s childhood best friend.

We’d hang out, crack jokes, drink beer and eat pizza, and reminisce about the old times.

Then, when she left, I’d hole up in my house for a few weeks until the sadness over losing her again dissipated.

It was my pattern, and I would have to rinse and repeat until I got her out of my system. Because I could not survive this any other way.

When I heard the doorbell ring, I almost jumped out of my skin.

I smoothed my shirt down. It was a nice one—one that I hadn’t worn in a while—but it looked good with my dark jeans.

I had neatly trimmed my beard and my hair was freshly cut, courtesy of my brother-in-law, Dante.

I told myself I wasn’t cleaning my house and spiffing myself up for Sam, but deep down I knew better.

I took a deep breath as I opened the door.

“Gio!” she cried, jumping into my arms.

“Sam,” I replied, crushing her in a hug. She was on the tall side, but shorter than I was. She came up to my nose, and I instinctively sniffed her hair as I pulled her close.

“I’ve missed you,” she mumbled into my shirt.

I gave her an extra squeeze, selfishly taking a moment to hold her.

In the moment, I felt the two full years since we had last seen each other.

We had talked on the phone and texted, but it wasn’t the same as being together.

By all accounts, this should be awkward, but she fit in my arms perfectly, as if she was meant to be there.

She stepped back and tucked her auburn hair behind her ears. “It is so good to see you.” I missed that smile. Sam had the kind of genuine, toothy smile that took over her whole face. I was pretty sure her ears were smiling at me. God, I had missed her.

I ushered her inside, then out onto my deck. Once I had procured her a Binnacle beer—in a glass, thank you very much. I was a gentleman, after all—I finally exhaled.

“This view is fantastic.” She pulled her denim-clad legs under her and looked out at the view.

She was dressed casually, wearing a drapey sweater-type thing and colorful, dangly earrings that I was sure she had picked up somewhere on her travels.

I took a moment to appreciate how natural she looked sitting in my house.

It was always like this—we could be on top of a mountain or under the sea, and I would feel this good with her.

It was just the way we were. Sam and Gio. Gio and Sam.

She sipped her beer. “My God, this is amazing.”

“Yeah, the brewery has exploded lately, and they are doing all sorts of innovative things. This is a sour, a new thing they’re doing. You like it?”

“I love it.” I knew she would. I knew Sam’s taste in beer—and in all things, really—after a lifetime of studying her.

She liked unique things, special things with stories and histories.

She liked to soak up the details of life, whether it be the beer she was drinking or the vintage leather jacket she was buying at the secondhand shop. It was just who she was.

She crossed her long legs. She was wearing a faded-red pair of Chucks, as always, and looked at me, eyes shining. “Tell me everything. Fill me in. What have you been up to? How is Valentina? Any travels planned? When did you redo this deck? It’s gorgeous.”

The questions were rapid-fire and relentless, totally Sam’s style.

She wanted to know and understand everything immediately.

I, on the other hand, preferred listening over speaking and didn’t want to monopolize our time together, especially when there was a big question hanging in the air between us.

I paused—just to annoy her—and then quickly filled her in on the last two years. Work, projects around my house, my siblings, Nonna’s obsession with limited edition sneakers, just the basics.

“Wait. Matteo has a girlfriend?”

I nodded.

She leaned back in her chair. “I never thought I’d see the day. Sure, the girls threw themselves at him in high school—he was the grumpy bad boy with the motorcycle—but I sort of thought he had sworn off dating.”

“Oh, he had. And then Eliza came in and kicked his ass. It’s been amazing to watch.”

We chatted more about my family, her mother, and my recent work trips, and I finally felt myself begin to relax. It was just Sam, the same cool person I had been hanging out with since childhood. She chattered away and asked a million questions while we laughed and laughed.

“What about you?” She wiggled her eyebrows at me playfully. “You really don’t have a girlfriend?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

She raised one eyebrow. Sam and I kept in touch, and while no subject was off-limits, I tried to steer our conversations away from our dating lives.

“Seriously.” I shrugged. What I didn’t mention was that I had gone out on a few dates with Lila Burke recently. She owned a cute donut shop in town and our paths had crossed a few times. She was very sweet and smart, but there was no chemistry, so I didn’t really follow up with her.

Also, my twin, Matteo, had gotten in my head recently, accusing me of trying to find a “buffer girlfriend” to protect me when Sam came back to town.

Not that I would ever admit he was right, of course, but he had a point.

It was definitely my pattern. Over the years, Sam and I had rarely been single at the same time.

And I may have gone out of my way to not be single when she visited if I could help it.

“You are such a serial dater, I am shocked. How has no one locked down the handsome, successful Georgio Rossi?” She winked at me, and I knew she was trying to push my buttons.

I scratched the back of my neck, desperate to avoid this topic. “Eh. I live in a small town and I travel a lot for work.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Not buying it.”

I got up and walked to the edge of the deck, staring out at the ocean, which moved steadily in the distance. “It’s the truth. I’m just a sad, lonely old man.” I made my best sad-puppy face and she rolled her eyes at me.

“We will revisit this topic. I’ll set up a Tinder profile for you if necessary, Gio. I don’t want you growing old and crazy inside this house, just building furniture all day and yelling at the squirrels to get off your lawn.”

While that scenario didn’t sound half bad, I appreciated what she was trying to do. “Fine. let’s table the why-Gio-is-single talk for now. I want to hear more about you.”

She gestured for me to sit down, so I did, placing my beer on the table. The silence between us was heavy and dense and I started to worry. Was something wrong? Sam was rarely quiet and contemplative.

She scooted closer to me on the bench, and I instinctively put an arm around her, feeling that she needed comfort.

We sat quietly for a few moments, staring out at the ocean, before she reached over and gently grasped my hand.

It felt so good and so warm inside mine.

My hand knew the shape and feel of hers.

I had held many women’s hands over the years, but none fit so perfectly.

I enjoyed the silence before I asked the inevitable question.

The question I’d been waiting weeks to ask.

“Why are you back, Sam?”

She took a deep breath and squeezed my hand.

“I’m back because I have cancer.”