Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“Lightning struck the top of our house during one storm,” I told him. “My mom and dad let me hide in the closet so that I wouldn’t be so scared.”
Paolo smiled and nodded.
“When my kids were young, they were scared of storms too. They didn’t like all the loud noises,” he said.
My eyes grew wide.
“You have kids?” I asked him.
Paolo nodded.
“I have some pictures in my office. If you want to see them,” he offered.
“Of course,” I said, unable to stifle my curiosity.
Paolo stood and led me to his small office by candlelight, flashes of lightning flickering off the closed blinds of his window. He showed me a few framed photos on his desk.
“That’s my daughter, Elena. She’s fifteen and a volleyball player. That’s Lucas. He’s twelve and probably the biggest science geek ever. He’s so smart,” Paolo said with an affectionate chuckle. “He must’ve gotten that from his mom.”
I smiled as I listened to him, hearing the pure care and love in his voice. The tough man with the booming voice did have a soft side.
“What does your wife do?” I asked.
Paolo fell silent for a moment before sitting on the edge of his desk.
“Katie. She is - was a teacher,” he told me.
An ache filled my chest as I placed my hand on his upper arm.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
Paolo gave me a grateful look, shadows flickering over his face from the swaying flames on the candles.
“We all miss her. It’s been tough moving forward, but I do it for my kids,” he told me. “I’m trying to do it for myself too. Grief is a hard place to stay at.”
I nodded, fully understanding his words. I sat next to him on his desk, the sides of our legs touching.
“My mom passed away three years ago. I know all about grief. How it doesn’t really go away. How it hits you in waves,” I said.
Paolo’s expression softened. It was probably the gentlest look that I had ever seen on his face. Most of the time, he had an almost gruff expression as he called out orders and rallied everyone.
“You do get it,” he murmured. “I can’t imagine how my kids feel. My parents have passed on, but that was from old age. It was expected. Their mom became sick and passed so suddenly.”
“I think the sudden deaths are worse. There’s no preparing for it,” I added, reflecting on how I would wake up in the mornings that followed and wouldn’t remember that she was gone for a few blissful seconds. Then, realization hit me like a train, and I couldn’t even be prepared for that.
“They missed a lot of school that month. I couldn’t even get them out of bed for a few days. Hearing them cry through the walls… that about killed me,” Paolo admitted, his voice cracking at a point.
My heart ached for him as he described an experience that was so familiar to me. That I hated he and his children had to go through as well.
“I will say that kids are resilient. Nothing keeps them down forever,” I pointed out.
The shadows of grief casted over his face lightened up a little.
“That’s true. They started getting out of bed on their own. Playing with their toys. They told me when they were ready to go back to school, and I was so shocked but proud of them,” he told me. “We found a new kind of normal, and I think seeing them heal helped me do the same.”
“Other people help take the pain away. You being there for them helped them heal too,” I said as warmth started to fill the atmosphere around us.
“They help me heal. The guys help me heal,” Paolo said before smiling a little. “This helps too. Talking about it with someone who gets it.”
My breath hitched as our eyes met under the intimate glow of the candlelight. It felt like I opened my soul up to him, letting him see past all of my defenses. Grief was awful, but it did connect people.
“I’m here to talk whenever you need to,” I told him, warmth burning in my chest.
Paolo nodded.
“Thank you. I’m here for you too,” he said.
I held his gaze, unable to shake the tremor of desire I had for this wise, collected, and sexy man. He was a decent bit older than I was, but that didn’t matter to me. What mattered was how he gazed at me like he truly saw me.
Understood me.
“I’ve been wanting to get to know you more,” I admitted. “But I was nervous.”
“Why?” Paolo asked as he tilted his head.
Should I speak my mind and take a leap of faith?
I must’ve been more reckless than I expected because I found myself moving my hand over the surface of the desk closer to his.
“Because lately… I’ve been wanting what I can’t have. What I shouldn’t have,” I murmured as our eyes locked. “And it’s getting harder and harder to hold myself back.”