for him to close the distance between
us and kiss me.
I hear him take a deep intake of breath,
the air sucking between his teeth and then there is nothing. Silence greets me
like a slap in the face.
I open my eyes and he’s staring at me. He
hasn’t moved an inch, no closer to kissing me than I imagined—than I
hoped.
My breath comes in short bursts. I want
him, but I don’t think I can handle his rejection.
His eyes study my face, his lips parted
slightly.
I slump my shoulders and lean back against
the pillows. The pain from my back has subsided, superseded by a pain deep in
my chest.
“Leila,” he whispers.
“It’s okay. I get it,” I say.
I don’t get it. I don’t understand anything
in this moment, but I don’t want to set myself up for a broken heart.
He offers me a weak smile before he stands
and walks over to the other side of the bed. He slips underneath the covers
fully clothed.
“Are you sleepy? Do you want me to turn the
light off?” he asks, his voice now soft and husky.
“No, I’m not tired at all.”
It’s the truth. Sleep is the last thing on
my mind with Callum in bed next to me. I try and ignore the fact that my heart
is now racing a million miles an hour and I feel like I’m overheating, not sure
if it’s because of the oversized hoodie, or for want of a man that is just
inches away.
He lets out a long exhale bringing his
hands to rest under his head.
“Tell me something about yourself,” he says
thoughtfully. “Tell me all about Leila from Brazil.”
I’m not sure what to say. I don’t know who
I am anymore much less who I was.
“What do you want to know?” I feel my lip
quirk up at the side. A giddy feeling settles within. He wants to know more
about me.
“How many boyfriends do you have waiting for
you?”
His question makes me laugh. For the first
time in years I know what it’s like to laugh. “None,” I answer easily.
“No boyfriends?” He gives me a sideways
glance. “I don’t believe you.”
“There is only one man in my life,” I say,
letting the comment hang in the air. “My brother, Luiz.”
I feel a smile touch my lips at the thought
of my baby brother, Luizinho.
“How old is he?”
“He is ten. He was ten,” I correct myself.
“He was ten when I left. Now he would be…” I pause.
“Thirteen.” He finishes for me. “He’s in
high school,” he adds softly.
“Yes.” I smile at the thought.
“Kissing girls,” he adds cheekily.
I clasp my hand to my mouth. “No. He is
much too young for girls.”
We both chuckle, mostly because I’m in
denial.
“Does he look like you?” he asks.
“Yes, but he will be tall. A tall, handsome
gentleman.” I smile shyly. “Much like you,” I add without looking at him.
Silence falls between us and I feel my
cheeks warm. It’s not that Callum isn’t handsome. It’s just an awkward thing to
say aloud, and it obviously made him feel uncomfortable.
“Where did you live before?” I ask in an
attempt to change the subject. “You said you weren’t in this town. Where were
you?”
“I lived in Italy.”
He stops talking, that one statement, then
silence.
“What did you do in Italy?” I prompt.
“I worked as a writer.” He pauses. “As a
foreign correspondent for a U.S. newspaper.”
“Why Italy?” I feel as though I already
know the answer. The reason he would move to the other side of the world.
He sighs, stretching his legs out beneath
the covers in an attempt to get comfortable. “We’re doing this now?“ he asks, a
touch of humor in his voice. “You’re asking me twenty questions?”
I nod my head as I giggle. “You asked me
questions. Why do I not get to question you?”
“Fair enough.” He lets out a breath before
speaking again. “I met a girl here in Virginia. She was Italian and we started
dating. After a few months she moved back to Italy and I followed.”
“You loved her?” I’m surprised by my
brashness, but for some reason, I need to
us and kiss me.
I hear him take a deep intake of breath,
the air sucking between his teeth and then there is nothing. Silence greets me
like a slap in the face.
I open my eyes and he’s staring at me. He
hasn’t moved an inch, no closer to kissing me than I imagined—than I
hoped.
My breath comes in short bursts. I want
him, but I don’t think I can handle his rejection.
His eyes study my face, his lips parted
slightly.
I slump my shoulders and lean back against
the pillows. The pain from my back has subsided, superseded by a pain deep in
my chest.
“Leila,” he whispers.
“It’s okay. I get it,” I say.
I don’t get it. I don’t understand anything
in this moment, but I don’t want to set myself up for a broken heart.
He offers me a weak smile before he stands
and walks over to the other side of the bed. He slips underneath the covers
fully clothed.
“Are you sleepy? Do you want me to turn the
light off?” he asks, his voice now soft and husky.
“No, I’m not tired at all.”
It’s the truth. Sleep is the last thing on
my mind with Callum in bed next to me. I try and ignore the fact that my heart
is now racing a million miles an hour and I feel like I’m overheating, not sure
if it’s because of the oversized hoodie, or for want of a man that is just
inches away.
He lets out a long exhale bringing his
hands to rest under his head.
“Tell me something about yourself,” he says
thoughtfully. “Tell me all about Leila from Brazil.”
I’m not sure what to say. I don’t know who
I am anymore much less who I was.
“What do you want to know?” I feel my lip
quirk up at the side. A giddy feeling settles within. He wants to know more
about me.
“How many boyfriends do you have waiting for
you?”
His question makes me laugh. For the first
time in years I know what it’s like to laugh. “None,” I answer easily.
“No boyfriends?” He gives me a sideways
glance. “I don’t believe you.”
“There is only one man in my life,” I say,
letting the comment hang in the air. “My brother, Luiz.”
I feel a smile touch my lips at the thought
of my baby brother, Luizinho.
“How old is he?”
“He is ten. He was ten,” I correct myself.
“He was ten when I left. Now he would be…” I pause.
“Thirteen.” He finishes for me. “He’s in
high school,” he adds softly.
“Yes.” I smile at the thought.
“Kissing girls,” he adds cheekily.
I clasp my hand to my mouth. “No. He is
much too young for girls.”
We both chuckle, mostly because I’m in
denial.
“Does he look like you?” he asks.
“Yes, but he will be tall. A tall, handsome
gentleman.” I smile shyly. “Much like you,” I add without looking at him.
Silence falls between us and I feel my
cheeks warm. It’s not that Callum isn’t handsome. It’s just an awkward thing to
say aloud, and it obviously made him feel uncomfortable.
“Where did you live before?” I ask in an
attempt to change the subject. “You said you weren’t in this town. Where were
you?”
“I lived in Italy.”
He stops talking, that one statement, then
silence.
“What did you do in Italy?” I prompt.
“I worked as a writer.” He pauses. “As a
foreign correspondent for a U.S. newspaper.”
“Why Italy?” I feel as though I already
know the answer. The reason he would move to the other side of the world.
He sighs, stretching his legs out beneath
the covers in an attempt to get comfortable. “We’re doing this now?“ he asks, a
touch of humor in his voice. “You’re asking me twenty questions?”
I nod my head as I giggle. “You asked me
questions. Why do I not get to question you?”
“Fair enough.” He lets out a breath before
speaking again. “I met a girl here in Virginia. She was Italian and we started
dating. After a few months she moved back to Italy and I followed.”
“You loved her?” I’m surprised by my
brashness, but for some reason, I need to
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