Page 287 of The Havenport Collection

Gio

T rue to my word, I set out to be the best fling in the history of the universe. Sam and I spent almost every day together. We went to the beach, stuffed ourselves at the diner, and walked around town hand in hand.

While I worked, she spent time with her mom and met with her cancer mentor, a lovely woman named Meghan who had been diagnosed with the same subtype of breast cancer a few years ago. She lived outside of Boston, and she and Sam went for mani-pedis and had brunch.

I know Sam was feeling scared, but the closer she got to beginning her treatment, the more positive she became.

We spent every single night together. And I didn’t think I would ever be able to sleep again without her curled up next to me. My house, her house, the bed of my truck while stargazing…we snuggled everywhere. After decades of not being able to hold her, I could not waste a single second.

Today I was on Valentina duty, and my plan was to take both my lovely girls on a Harbor Cruise, followed by a trip to the New England Aquarium.

That was if I could drag myself out of bed.

Sam had kept me up late last night, talking at first, but then things had progressed and she had ridden me while screaming my name so loud I’m surprised none of my neighbors called the cops.

We stood on the bow of the boat, wind whipping in our hair. I looked over at Sam, who was giddy and geeking out over the history our guide was explaining to us. She squeezed my hand and said, “I can’t believe this is the site of the Boston Tea Party. Isn’t that the coolest thing?”

I shrugged. “History was not my thing, remember? You did the majority of the work on our group projects.”

“Don’t play it like that. You were a closet nerd, Gio. I just coaxed it out of you. Remember when we did a reenactment of the Scopes trial junior year? You were really into playing Clarence Darrow.”

I shrugged. She wasn’t wrong. I had never loved school. But I loved being the good kid, the dependable kid, and that meant being polite and getting good grades. I didn’t want to cause a fuss, worry my stressed-out dad or my grandmother any more than I had to.

I had loved learning and studying with Sam, seeing her get all excited about our biology lab or an Austen novel, so I leaned into it. Surprisingly, I found myself graduating with honors and quite a few college options.

“I really owe you,” I said for the millionth time. “I would have been such a mess if you hadn’t kicked my ass in high school. And your grandfather too; he helped straighten me out.”

“He was the best. He’d love this. Talking about the Battle of Bunker Hill? Granted, he would be sad that the Charlestown Navy Yard area is now filled with trendy brewpubs and Pilates studios, but he loved local history.”

She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s funny. I’ve lived all over the world but I miss this city.”

“We had some good years here. We were poor college students, but we made this city our bitch.”

She laughed. “We totally did—getting free museum passes, splitting scorpion bowls at Hong Kong.”

“And the Fenway concerts,” I added. In addition to being a baseball stadium, Fenway Park was also a popular concert venue, right smack in the middle of the city. It was really easy to hear what was going on inside. When the Red Sox hit a home run you could hear the cheers all the way in Brookline.

Sam and I would go sit on the sidewalk and listen to the concerts for free. Once we figured out the best acoustic spot in a nearby park, we would bring beach chairs and snacks. We heard all the greats.

“Oh my God. I still can’t believe we got to hear Paul McCartney.

That is a serious bucket-list item.” She grabbed my arm, and I resisted the urge to lean over and kiss her forehead.

Every moment spent with Sam was an exercise in restraint.

She wanted casual, she wanted boundaries, so I was trying my best.

“My dad is still jealous. I loved living here.”

“Then why did you leave?” she asked.

I turned and looked at her, crossing my arms over my chest. “Not everyone is desperate to escape Havenport, Sam. I know you think it’s a terrible, Podunk town, but some of us love it.”

She looked contrite. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just Boston has so much to offer—art, culture, and opportunity. Even standing here with you right now, I can sense the possibilities in this place.”

“I understand. But you can’t blame me for defending our hometown. And I still come here all the time. I bring Val into the city at least once a month, and I still have friends here. But I came back to Havenport when Val was born.”

She nodded.

“Matteo needed me. And when I laid eyes on Valentina, I just knew I didn’t want to miss out on her life. She was premature and still struggles with asthma. I wanted to make sure she had all the love and family she deserved.”

Sam leaned her head on my shoulder. “I’m an asshole,” she said. “You’re amazing and she’s lucky to have you.”

I turned around to look at Val, who was on the deck of the boat, gleefully snapping photos. “I’m lucky to have her. And I love the town. I love my house. And I get to travel frequently, so it’s really the best of both worlds.”

“I didn’t mean to sound so judgmental. I know people love it there. It just never fit for me. It wasn’t right.”

“I know. And I respect the hell out of you for going after your dreams. Even if it took you far away from me.”

I put my arm around her, drawing her close and taking a discreet whiff of her hair.

It was my favorite scent in the world, floral and citrusy, but not overpowering.

As our “fling” progressed, I was having more and more trouble keeping my hands off her.

I wanted to be with her all the time, making her laugh and kissing away her tears.

And the more time we spent together, the more the lines blurred. She was mine, even if she couldn’t admit it yet. She was anxious and facing some big challenges. I would give her time to figure things out. But if I knew one thing, it was that I was head over heels for this woman.

“You are pretty awesome, Gio Rossi,” she said, tipping up her face to stare at me. I wanted to bend down and kiss her, but we had an audience, or rather my eight-year-old niece who did not miss a trick.

Valentina had been happy to share her Gio time with Sam—granted, candy was promised—but she was excited to go to Boston and mainly let us be alone. I had given her my phone to play with, and she was busy taking photos of random boats and “weird” clouds.

Sam squeezed my hand, and I felt a tightness in my chest. Things were different. We were in transition. From best friends to something…more.

It wasn’t just that we had seen each other naked. Something had shifted. Something elemental to our friendship. There was a bit more physical affection. Some invisible walls had been torn down, and I was still figuring out what this would all mean.

I didn’t like ambiguity. I liked things neat and clean.

But this was different. I was happy to hang in the gray area with Sam until we were ready to figure it out.

So we cruised around Boston Harbor, breathing in the fresh air and soaking up the history of this remarkable place.

I knew Sam was tired and worried about starting chemo soon.

But her face was pink and her eyes were bright.

We took some silly selfies and joked with Valentina, and by the time we pulled into the dock, I was having the time of my life.

We then headed into the New England Aquarium, stopping first to see the seals, of course. Valentina pulled us along, reading all the informational signs aloud and asking endless questions. At one point, she cornered an Aquarium employee and peppered him with questions about the piranhas.

Sam was not much better, studying every exhibit, getting downright giddy when we got to observe feeding time at the giant ocean tank.

She and Valentina clapped every time Myrtle the turtle caught a Brussels sprout, which was apparently her favorite food.

“She was here when we were kids,” Sam squealed, grabbing my arm. “Can you believe she’s estimated to be ninety-five years old?”

She and Val snapped photos and craned their necks to get a better look at her. While Myrtle was a legitimate local celebrity, they acted like Tom Brady was swimming around in there. Still, it was fun to watch them together, soaking up all the details and finding the strangest looking fish.

It was early afternoon by the time we walked out into the bright Boston sunshine.

Val looked at me seriously. “Uncle Gio, it’s time.”

I nodded.

Sam looked between us, confused.

“Uncle Gio and I have decided you can be part of our circle of trust.” Her voice was grave.

“Um…thank you?” Sam replied.

“We are going to go to the North End and get some cannoli. It’s our special tradition. But,”—she held up her little finger—“you have to pinkie promise you won’t tell my dad.”

Sam looked at me and I gave a solemn nod. She complied. “I won’t tell.”

“Good. Let’s go; it’s a bit of a walk.” Val led the way down the cobblestone sidewalk toward Boston’s North End.

Sam and I strolled behind, and she took my arm. I liked how tactile she had become, and I loved being able to touch her in public.

“Can you explain?” she asked, watching Val march determinedly down the street.

“So there are two world-famous Italian bakeries right on Hanover Street. They are across from one another. And they have been in competition for close to a hundred years.”

Val turned around. “Yup. There is Mike’s and Modern. And we are going to try them both. And not just plain. We get all the good flavors too.”

“Val and I do this whenever we come into the city. We each have our favorites, but now we have you…”

“She’s gonna agree with me,” Val shouted over her shoulder.

“Do not cheat, Val. We have to see which she likes the best.”

“How much cannoli can a person eat?” Sam asked innocently.

Val stopped walking and turned around so quickly I almost ran into her. She cocked her head to the side and stared at Sam. “Is that a serious question?”

“Don’t worry, Sam. We will teach you our ways,” I assured her.

“You’ll see,” Val added. “But if my dad asks, this neighborhood is overrated and his food is much better. You got it?”

Sam nodded, clearly trying to conceal her laughter. “I will take it to my grave.”

Laden down with pastry boxes, we made our way to a tiny, postage stamp-sized park across from Paul Revere’s House. We sat on a small bench and studied our treats.

“So, as you can see, the Modern cannoli is much smaller, but give it a try.” Val held a piece out to Sam, waiting for her reaction.

Sam took a big bite, leaving a tiny bit of cream on her lip. I wanted to lick it off. I pretended to study the map of the Freedom Trail to distract myself from my dirty thoughts.

“This is good,” Sam said, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin.

“That’s it?” Val asked. “Did you notice the thin, crisp shell?”

Sam nodded and took a bite of the other offering and groaned. She licked her lips—damn that was hot—and continued, “Yes. I like this one, but the shell was crispier on the other one and the cream was lighter too. Just a different experience.”

Val nodded, satisfied with her answer. “Told you, Uncle Gio. It’s way better.”

“Let her try this.” I held up the Mike’s pistachio cannoli, which was enormous.

“I don’t think that will fit in my mouth,” Sam said before catching herself. She laughed and covered her face, which was turning beet red. I coughed to hide my laugh as well. Valentina looked confused.

I raised my eyebrows at her. “Just open wide.”

Sam looked at me, and I bit my lip to keep from laughing. She gave me a saucy wink that sent my brain reeling. She was never one to pass up a dirty joke and the “that’s what she said” really wrote itself in this scenario.

She slowly took a bite, closing her eyes and letting out a tiny moan. I was in public and technically babysitting my niece, so I turned away and read one of the plaques about the Revolutionary War until my heart rate returned to normal.

But it was hot. Red fucking hot. And suddenly, I needed more. I wanted to tie her to my bed and lick cannoli cream off her entire body. That was an oddly specific fantasy, but hey, I didn’t have a lot of blood flow to my brain in that moment.

But this is what Sam did to me. She made me burn with desire. And at that moment, I knew she always would.