45. Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Five

M arcus Fabius Varro

I wake up feeling… different. Lighter somehow, as if a weight I’ve carried for centuries is finally lifting. The events of yesterday play through my mind—the vulnerability, the trust, the gentle touch of Laura’s hands. It’s strange, but instead of being mired in self-loathing, I feel as though I’m making progress.

Turning my head, I catch sight of Laura still sleeping peacefully beside me. My chest tightens with an unfamiliar warmth. I want her. Not just physically, though that desire is consuming, but in every way possible. I want to know her thoughts, her dreams, her fears. I want to make her laugh, to comfort her when she’s sad. I want… everything with her.

But I know we can’t be intimate, not in the way my body craves. There’s still too much damage, too many ghosts lurking in the shadows of my mind. The realization stings, but it doesn’t crush me like it did before. Instead, it feels like a challenge, something to work toward.

As Laura stirs, a thought strikes me. She’s done so much for me lately—comforting me when I broke down over the picture of the Colosseum, giving me that incredible massage. It’s time I return the favor .

“Good morning,” I say as her eyes flutter open. “How did you sleep?”

She stretches, reminding me of my urge to sketch her when she has the morning expression of a happy cat.

“Slept like a log, probably all that work on the roof yesterday. You?”

“Better than I have in years,” I admit. Then, gathering my courage, I add, “Actually, I was thinking… maybe I could give you a massage today? To say thank you for yesterday.”

Laura blinks, wary distrust etched across her features. “Varro, you’re my best friend, and I don’t just say that because you’re the only other person on the island. I really enjoy your company, but my boundary still stands.”

If we’d had this conversation a month ago, I doubt I would have felt anything. I would have ignored my emotions just as I learned to do shortly after Centurion Servius pulled me up onto his horse with my tacit agreement that I was little more than his possession. But now her words slash through me like a sharp gladius .

“My offer was sincere, Laura.” Instead of hiding my resentment, I let her see my brow furrow to show her how her words affected me. “You did so much to soothe me these last few days, I want to return the favor.”

Then she smiles, but it’s tinged with something I can’t quite read. “My sincere apologies. You’re absolutely right. I assumed the worst of you, and you didn’t deserve that. Your offer is sweet, Varro, but you don’t have to give me a massage.”

“I want to,” I insist. “It’s only fair—”

“Hey,” she interrupts gently, turning on her side to face me. “Not everything in our relationship needs to be transactional, give and take. A person can do something kind without expecting anything in return. That’s what friendship is about. ”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, but in a good way. It’s an insight that leaves me reeling. “Oh,” I manage, feeling like an idiot. “I… I never thought of it that way.”

Laura’s smile softens. “I know. But that’s okay. We’re learning together, right?”

I nod, still processing this new concept. As we go about our morning routine, the idea follows me, coloring everything in a new light. The way Laura hands me a cup of our bitter, makeshift tea without expecting one in return. The casual touch of her hand on my arm as she passes by. Small kindnesses freely given, with no expectation of anything in return.

“So,” Laura says as we finish breakfast, “what should we do today? The storm has passed, but there’s still a ton of snow out there.”

I look out the window, marveling at the pristine white landscape. “I haven’t seen so much snow since I crossed the Pyrenees,” I admit.

Laura’s eyes light up. “Oh! Then you’ve never made a snowman before, have you?”

“A snow… man?” I repeat, confusion coloring my voice.

“It’s like a sculpture, but made of snow,” she explains excitedly. “Come on, I’ll show you!”

I’m not sure why we would want to build something doomed to melt, but follow her lead as I pull on another layer and head outside. The world is transformed, blanketed in white as far as the eye can see.

We wade through several feet of snow before we arrive in the yard in front of the house. For a moment, we stand here, reveling in the breathtaking beauty.

Laura bends and begins rolling a large ball of snow, patting and shaping it as she goes. “This is the base,” she explains. “We’ll make three balls, stack them, and then decorate it to look like a person. ”

I watch, fascinated, as she demonstrates. Then I try to mimic her actions, clumsily at first, but soon getting the hang of it.

As I’m focused on perfecting my ball of snow, something cold and wet suddenly hits the back of my head. I whirl around to see Laura grinning mischievously, another snowball already in her hand.

“Your challenge is accepted,” I growl playfully, scooping up my own handful of snow.

What follows is the most fun I’ve had in… well, ever. We pelt each other with snowballs, our laughter echoing across the silent landscape. Our half-finished snowmen stand forgotten as we chase each other around, ducking behind trees and bushes.

“You know,” Laura pants, flopping back into the snow, “for someone who’s never seen this much snow before, you’ve got surprisingly good aim.”

I lie down beside her, our breaths puffing out in white clouds. “What can I say? I’m a quick learner. Besides, a gladiator with bad aim is a dead gladiator.”

Although it strikes me as funny, Laura doesn’t laugh. She turns her head to look at me, her cheeks flushed from the cold and all the running. Our gazes collide and for a moment, what passes between us is hot as a brand. It may have been a long time since a woman has looked at me like this, but in Rome, that look was preceded by either a proposition or an order.

My body responds as if by command, my cock growing hard despite the frigid air. As quick as the moment struck, it disappears as Laura says, “You are a fast learner; look how well you already speak English and how well you drive.” The flash of desire on her face is gone, hidden by the bright smile that at first seemed forced, but now appears genuine.

She reaches for my hand and the moment crashes over me: the sincerity in her voice, the innocence of her touch—it’s affectionate and accepting. But instead of pulling away, instead of retreating into myself like I might have before, I let myself feel it. The connection, the warmth, the… possibility .

We lie here a while longer. We exercised too hard to be cold yet. As we watch the clouds drift by, our joined hands create a bridge between us. I realize that this—this moment, this feeling—is worth more than all the riches of Rome. It’s a gift freely given, with no expectation in return. And for the first time in my life, I’m learning how to accept it.