Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind,

And that which governs me to go about

Doth part his function and is partly blind,

Seems seeing, but effectually is out;

For it no form delivers to the heart

Of bird, of flow’r, or shape which it doth latch;

Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,

Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch;

For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight,

The most sweet-favor or deformèd'st creature,

The mountain or the sea, the day or night,

The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature.

Incapable of more, replete with you,

My most true mind thus maketh mine eye untrue.

Her heart pounded and her ears roared. She gripped the edge of the table and frantically searched the crowd. Was this a sick joke? The note was unsigned. The words reached out and took a merciless hold, squeezing out every last ounce of her emotion and grief and longing for a man she’d never hold again.

“Hello, Julianna.”

She whirled around. He stood behind her, a slight smile curving those lips. Raw hunger gleamed from tiger eyes as his gaze roved over her, taking in every curve of her body, caressing her face, her hair, and settling back to gaze deep into her eyes. Her heart stopped, then pounded in a frantic rhythm.

A white suit jacket was slung over his shoulder. A black t-shirt molded to his chest, and matching white slacks showed off his lean figure. A Rolex gleamed from his wrist, and black aviator sunglasses perched on top of his head. His golden skin accentuated the blondish strands of hair raked back from his face. She felt the stare of every woman in the piazza veer and focus on him, yet his gaze never moved from hers.

“What are you doing here?” she asked softly.

He took the seat next to her, snapped the waiter over, and ordered in perfect Italian.

This other Jack fascinated her, yet when he spoke again, she glimpsed the man who had lain in her bed and set her body on fire.

“I wanted to see you.” He seemed to search for his words. “The night you left… well, at first I didn’t understand why. I thought I was presenting you with everything you wanted.” He gave a lopsided smile. “Then I realized I never gave you a chance to really choose. You may have loved me, but you didn’t know what kind of life I led. I think you would’ve always wondered if I married you to inherit Woodward Shipping. So, I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

She smiled at him. “You came all the way to Italy to offer an apology?”

Jack laughed. “Not really. I had some business to take care of.”

“How did you know I was here?”

He paused. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you. To be sure you were okay.”

Pain tightened her chest. She reached out and took his left hand. Warm rough skin closed around hers. Then she lightly touched his ring finger. “You don’t wear a ring.”

One brow shot up. “Why would I?”

“I read in the paper you inherited the company. That means you had to marry.”

Jack grinned, and suddenly he transformed into her gardener, her erotic teacher, and her wayward sailor. “I told my mother I’d give up the company. I wasn’t going to marry for convenience, so I called her bluff. If you knew my mother, I could only say things got… intense. Bryce is in jail so there was no heir to the throne. Eventually, my mother found a way to break the contract, and I inherited the company.”

“You’re not married.”

“No. There’s only one woman I want to marry. I came to ask you again, Julianna.”

He lifted the white paper with the poem and held it out to her. “This is how you make me feel. I’m not complete without you. I wanted to give you time to find yourself. You can travel, teach, study. I can fly back and forth while we figure it out. We don’t have to rush. I just want to be with you.”

Hope bloomed. Her fingers trembled. A new path rose before her, taunting and sweet in the dying Venice sun. The stanza from Robert Frost teased the edges of her mind. “Two paths diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.”

“I sold the Cliff House. I want to get my PhD and teach. I want to write.” Her eyes burned. “And I want to go with you to England.”

A wild gleam of hope lit amber eyes, then dimmed. “I have to tell you one more thing, Julianna. I was the one who bought the Cliff House.”

“What? But I met the new owner. He’s with the historical society.”

“He's my representative. The house is being held for you, for your family. I wasn’t going to tell you, but I want no lies between us. If you really want to sell it, I’ll do it. If you want to live there, I don’t care. But I couldn’t let it slip away when it’s something I wanted to do for you.”

Julianna looked at the man sitting before her. Tears gathered in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. He’d given her the ultimate gift. Her family home, with no other motive but to make her happy. No strings. No contracts.

Just love.

She leaned forward, framed his face with her hands, and kissed him. The band in the piazza began to play, a low rich melody filled with violins. The sound echoed down the canal in a burst of beauty, and Julianna gave the man she loved her answer.

“I choose you, Jack. I will always choose you.”

He whispered her name and Julianna knew she had finally found her happily ever after.

About The Author

I've always loved to travel as much as I love to write, and enjoy bringing personal experiences to my story. First, you met my characters in the exotic location of Lake Como, Italy in Secrets, Volume 11 “Masquerade.” I took a two week, hectic tour one hot summer with my girlfriend when we were young, single and carefree.

Then I snuck you into my own private yoga studio to meet my characters in the city of New York. I studied yoga and meditation intensely for almost a decade, and a big part of my life took place on that path. This journey will take you to Newport, Rhode Island, where my husband and I spent our first romantic weekend together during our dating period. Now, married for seven years, with two small boys and two rescue dogs, life is more hectic, maybe a bit less romantic, but always soul fulfilling. My favorite part of writing is sharing these stories with my readers. I welcome comments, reflections, and anything else you'd like to share at romancewriter121@yahoo.com