Page 155 of Marcello
“Is Giulietta yours?” I shot back.
She looked back down at her plate as she scraped her fork across it.
I suddenly felt like shit.
“Look,” I said quietly, “it’s obvious we both have some things we’d like to keep secret. Why don’t we just let sleeping dogs lie, and agree not to ask each other things we don’t want to talk about?”
“Why don’t you want to talk about them?” she asked, looking up at me accusatorily.
“Why don’t you want to talk about your own shit?” I asked angrily. “If you want to know about me so badly, you go first. Spill your guts, then I’ll spill mine.”
She looked back down at her plate…
Sat there in silence…
And a single tear ran down her face.
It tore my heart in two.
“Hey… hey, don’t cry.”
I got up and moved around the table, but she turned her head away from me as I crouched down next to her.
“Hey – look at me,” I whispered. I put my fingers on her chin and gently pulled her face back towards me. “Please – look at me.”
She finally gave in and turned to look at me, but her eyes welled up with tears.
“There’s only one thing that matters,” I told her, “and it’s that I’m utterly, completely in love with you. I would die for you.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
When I kissed her, she kissed me back.
I eventually pulled away so I could speak. “We’ll talk about it… all of it… when we’re both ready. Okay?”
She gave me a sad and half-hearted smile, then nodded.
We continued to kiss and eventually moved onto the bed.
We made love…
And afterwards, she fell asleep in my arms, her head on my chest.
I would have given anything to stay that way forever…
But the alarm went off, and she had to leave, like always.
47
Weeks passed by in a blissful blur.
Giulietta would visit me every third or fourth night. The first several times, we stayed in the hotel room and had sex for hours – but eventually she began asking if I could take her out.
So we ate at amazing restaurants…
Went dancing at clubs…
And walked through some of the historic neighborhoods of Naples at night.
