1. Giana

CHAPTER 1

Giana

NOW

S ummer in Maple Ridge, Colorado, is as beautiful as it is hellish. It’s a reminder of a simpler time when my life was perfect. Or close to it. For the first twenty years of my life, I wasn’t really living. My life truly began on May 29 th , 1969. The day I met Leonardo Moretti.

Little did I know that my first encounter with Leo would not only alter my future, but it would skew my definition of love forever.

Having regrets is for foolish people though, and I’m no fool. I’ve lived a full life. Complete with nearly a four-decade-long marriage, two children, and five grandchildren. I’ve been blessed with lifelong friendships and enough money that I don’t have to worry if my kin will be taken care of. My late husband made sure of that.

As I gaze out at the field of pine trees and wild grass and let the air rock me back and forth on the porch swing, I clutch the compass hanging from a chain around my neck. I can’t help but let my mind wander back to that summer. Being at the cabin always reminds me of Leo. It’s where I feel closest to him. And summer is when the memories are at their rawest.

We spent ten weeks here in the summer of 1969, tucked away in our own little paradise—as we liked to call it—in the mountains of Colorado. For days on end, we worked alongside one another tirelessly, fixing it up. Loose floorboards needed nailing down, shingles on the roof needed stapling, and the cabinets in the kitchen needed sanding.

But in the evenings, we made better use of our time together. Night after night, we made love on the old mattress in the primary bedroom. Some nights we took to worshipping one another under the sky of twinkling stars. The roaring fire was our only audience. There was even a time or two we went skinny dipping in the creek, and despite it nearly freezing our appendages off, I can still feel the warmth of him inside me.

Because that’s how our love was. It was hot and passionate. It was intense and electric.

Not many people know about that unforgettable summer. My best friend Nettie and her husband Pete were our partners in crime. I have them to thank for introducing Leo and I. Leo was Pete’s cousin, and he came to Maple Ridge for Nettie and Pete’s wedding and wound up staying the entire summer. Bought this cabin with me, made promises to love and cherish me, and grow old with me.

It’s ironic how you can look back on your life and see how things worked out. Or didn’t. As I observe my grown granddaughter, Rosie, play a game of horseshoes with Nettie and Pete and their granddaughter, Camille, I can’t stop the smile from pulling at my lips. I also can’t stop my mind from drifting back to that sweet and reckless summer of 1969.