23. Chloe

CHAPTER 23

CHLOE

T he second we get back in the car, Paolo starts driving, not uttering a word. There are no words to explain what just happened. That was more passionate than any other kiss we’ve shared. I know it was stress-driven, but I can’t help but wonder how real it really was.

There’s no way such desperate passion could have been fake. Could it?

I don’t comment on it. Right now I want to be happy in the delusion that this still means something. Right now, I don’t have the space in my head to start processing why his first response in a panic was to kiss me like that.

I don’t know what to do about any of this.

We head out of the city, weaving through the streets and past the traffic. As the signs start to point towards the highway, suddenly he turns left onto a tiny road.

“Isn’t the house in the other direction?” I ask.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to go home yet. Do you?”

“I don’t know. Not really.”

“Okay, then.”

He doesn’t offer any further explanation, and I don’t push him for one. Instead I pull out my phone to text my mother. I send her a couple of photos of the museums, of the landscape, of the pizza. Having a great time, I write. Miss you loads. Wish you could be here too.

Me too, honey, she replies quickly. Looks beautiful. I remember why I fell in love there ha ha! Have fun x

I smile to myself, then look at Paolo. He’s staring straight at the road, both hands gripping the wheel tightly. The tension in his body makes him sit up straight; it looks like he’s in pain. Every so often he changes gear, and I can’t help but look down at his hands.

I have to stop thinking about his fingers. But there’s a fire burning inside me that he lit with that kiss, something that’s going to be so hard to put out.

“This is the second-oldest cathedral in the country,” he says as we turn down a street buried in the city suburbs. “Everyone always goes to visit the big one. But personally I think this one’s a lot nicer.”

We drive by it and I see what he means. It’s built of the same gray stone as the other one, but the stained glass seems more impressive, the turrets cleaner. It stands proudly there, somehow more imposing, set away from the tall buildings and old, cobblestone streets.

“Are we stopping?” I ask.

“We can if you want to,” he says, glancing at me, “But I thought we could just do a driving tour.”

“Right. No problem.”

“It’s safer this way. But we can stop if you want.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m happy just to see it.”

I’m happy to see it with you, I think, but keep the thought to myself. Things are already complicated enough right now without talking about our feelings on top of everything else.

He points out a couple more things, statues and streets and historical sites, then finally he says, “Are you ready to go home?”

“I wouldn’t mind. Are you?”

“I think I am. Unless there’s anything else you want to do.”

“No, not really.”

“Okay.”

He turns back onto the main road towards the highway.

And then, without thinking, I say, “Why don’t you do this more often?”

“I can’t,” he says, his face crumpling in confusion. “I have my duties.”

“No, I mean, why don’t you act like this more often?”

“What?”

“Everything I’ve ever heard about you tells me the story of a selfish boy. An idiot. But every time I’m with you like this… I don’t see that at all.”

“What do you see?” He glances over at me again, his eyes blazing with a self-loathing I’ve never seen before.

I take a breath, then tell him the truth. “I see someone kind. I see someone who cares. I see a guy who’s spent his entire life feeling overshadowed and who never quite figured out how to deal with that.”

He says nothing for a long while, and I don’t think he’s going to reply. Until, so quietly I barely hear it, he says, “You’re right. It’s not exactly that I was neglected as a kid. I had everything I needed. But… well, Miguel’s the oldest. I guess you’ve probably heard the expression, ‘the heir and the spare.’”

I nod when he looks at me expectantly. He sighs deeply and chuckles bitterly. “Well, I’m the spare’s spare. It’s not that I wasn’t loved or looked after. It’s not that I didn’t have everything I ever wanted, could ever even dream of. I guess it’s just… oh, I don’t know.”

My hands act before my brain can tell myself it’s a bad idea, and I reach out for his hand. “You just wanted to be noticed as much as them.”

“I guess, yeah.”

“It makes sense,” I say, “that you rebelled. You just wanted someone to see you for who you were.”

“And that’s the first time that anyone’s ever told me that my actions weren’t just those of some reckless young idiot.”

“You were just a kid. It must be a hell of a lot of pressure to be royal on top of that.”

“Most people would call it cushy,” he says with a chuckle so bitter that I almost feel like he’s about to cry.

I guess all he’s ever needed was for someone to be kind to him, to show him that there can be more to life than just being a disobedient boy. That he can be loved for who he is rather than what he is.

There’s that word again. Love.

He’s way too tender right now for me to start bringing something like that up. So, instead, I say, “You know, I like it when you’re like this.”

“Like what?”

“When you act like a human.”

“I’m always a human!” he says defensively.

“No, you’re not.”

I’m expecting him to argue more, but then he just sighs. “No, I’m not. I don’t think I’ve ever known how to be.”

“There’s still time for you to learn,” I say. He scoffs, and I push. He needs to hear this. “God knows I don’t know you that well, but I’ve seen it. If you could just show everybody else how kind and funny and cool you are, I’m sure they would all quickly change their minds about you being some stupid little boy.”

“Oh, so you do think I’m a stupid little boy?” he snaps.

I shake my head, my tone calm. “Did I say that?”

“No,” he admits with a frown, and I see him gripping the steering wheel like he’s holding on for dear life.

“I mean it, you know,” I say. “I’ve had a great day today. I’ve had a great day with you.” My heart is racing hard in my chest now, like it wants to burst with words I don’t know how to form. Don’t know how to speak.

There aren’t any words to describe the way he’s changed my life.

Instead of more talking, I squeeze his hand. “We should do this again.”

“What?” he says, glancing over at me like he thinks he misheard.

“We should do this again,” I repeat. “You and me hanging out all day. You should show me some more of the country, or we could just do something fun. As long as I’m getting the real Paolo, I don’t mind. In fact, I’d like it.”

“I’d like that too.” He smiles for the first time since we started talking.

“I do like you, you know,” I confess quietly. “I like spending time with you.”

He says nothing, his eyes fixed on the road, and because his eyes are fixed on the road, I let myself look at him. I let my eyes wander down to his lips. I let myself remember how good his body felt on mine.

All this time, I’ve been trying to deny it to myself, but I don’t want to deny it any longer.

I want Paolo.

After all this is over, he might not want me anymore, but right now, as long as we’re together, here in his home, I want him.

I know this can’t last forever. But right now, it’s me and him. And I like that.