Temporary Measures

I swallow, my throat tight, my heart pounding high in my chest. “I know,” I murmur, my voice rough, my fingers tangling with hers where they rest on my thigh. “I feel it too.”

Valentina’s lips quirk into a soft smile, her thumb stroking the back of my hand. “Do you?” she asks gently, her eyes warm and fond on mine. “Because I’m kind of freaking out over here.”

I huff out a laugh, my shoulders shaking with the force of it. “Join the club,” I murmur, my voice wry, my heart still pounding in my chest.

Valentina’s smile widens, her free hand coming up to cup my face, her thumb stroking my cheekbone in a gesture that’s becoming heartbreakingly familiar. “So what do we do now?” she asks softly, her eyes searching mine.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “We talk,” I say simply, my voice firm, even as my stomach churns with nerves. “We figure this out. Together.”

Valentina nods, her expression softening, her fingers tightening around mine. “Together,” she echoes, her voice rough, her lips brushing mine in a kiss that’s soft and sweet and full of promise.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe, just maybe, we might be okay.

The words linger between us for a moment, pregnant with possibility, with the gravity of everything we’ve been too afraid to voice. Valentina’s eyes are dark and intense on mine, her fingers warm and steady where they tangle with mine, her touch a lifeline in the churning sea of my nerves.

“Okay,” she whispers, her voice soft, her thumb stroking the back of my hand in a steady, soothing rhythm. “Okay. We talk.”

I nod, my throat constricting, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. “Okay,” I echo, my voice rough, my free hand coming up to tangle in her hair, pulling her closer until her forehead rests against mine, our breath mingling in the scant space between us.

For a long moment, neither of us speaks, the silence between us charged with unvoiced words, with the gravity of everything we’re both too scared to voice. Then Valentina draws an unsteady breath, her fingers tightening around mine, her voice low and rough when she finally speaks.

“I’m scared too,” she admits, her words barely a breath between us, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment before opening again, meeting mine with a raw, vulnerable honesty that robs me of breath. “I’m scared that this is too good to be true. That I’m going to wake up tomorrow and realize this was all just a dream.”

I swallow hard, my heart aching in my chest, my free hand coming up to cup her face, my thumb stroking her cheekbone in a gesture that’s become heartbreakingly familiar. “It’s not a dream,” I murmur, my voice rough, my eyes searching hers. “This is real. We’re real.”

Valentina’s lips quirk into a soft smile, her expression tender, her eyes warm and fond on mine. “I know,” she whispers, her voice rough, her forehead rolling against mine. “I know it is. But that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.”

I huff out a laugh, my shoulders shaking with the force of it, my heart still pounding in my chest. “No,” I agree, my voice wry, my fingers stroking the soft skin behind her ear. “It really doesn’t.”

Another silence, this one softer, more comfortable, the quiet thrum of possibility settling between us. I can feel Valentina’s breath against my lips, warm and sweet, can feel the steady beat of her heart where her chest presses against mine.

“So,” I start, my voice soft, my eyes searching hers. “Where do we go from here?”

Valentina takes a deep breath, her expression turning thoughtful, her fingers stroking the back of my hand in a steady, soothing rhythm. “We take it slow,” she says finally, her voice firm, her eyes intent on mine. “We—date. For real this time. No pretending, no acting. Just—us. Getting to know each other. Figuring out what this is.”

I nod, my throat constricting, my heart leaping into my throat at the certainty in her voice, the determination in her eyes. “Okay,” I agree, my voice rough, my fingers tightening around hers. “Okay. We can do that.”

Valentina’s lips quirk into a soft smile, her free hand coming up to cover mine where it rests on her face, her fingers tangling with mine. “Yeah,” she whispers, her voice rough, her eyes warm and fond on mine. “We really can.”

I close my eyes, my heart in my throat, my stomach fluttering with a hope I’m almost afraid to feel. “Valentina,” I start, my voice rough, my words barely a breath between us.

She shifts beside me, her lips brushing mine in a kiss that’s soft and sweet and full of promise. “I know,” she murmurs against my lips, her voice low, her fingers tightening around mine. “I feel it too.”

I melt into her, my free hand coming up to tangle in her hair, pulling her closer as I deepen the kiss, pouring every ounce of my fear and my hope and my longing into the press of my lips against hers. It’s a kiss that feels both familiar and terrifyingly new, a kiss that steals my breath and sets my heart racing, a kiss that I never want to end.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless, our foreheads pressed together, our lips swollen and red. “Okay,” I whisper, my voice rough, my fingers stroking the soft skin behind her ear. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Valentina’s smile widens, her expression softening, her fingers tightening around mine. “Okay,” she echoes, her voice rough, her lips brushing mine in a kiss that’s soft and sweet and full of promise. “Let’s.”

Six months later, I pull up to the same sprawling house, the same gravel driveway crunching under my tires. The same chaos spills out of the front door—shouts, laughter, the smell of garlic and tomatoes hanging heavy in the air.

This time, Valentina’s hand is in mine as we walk inside, her thumb stroking the back of my hand in a steady, grounding rhythm. This time, there’s no act, no pretense, just the quiet certainty of her presence beside me, the steady warmth of her smile as she greets my family, her laughter ringing out bright and clear above the din.

We find Mamma in the kitchen, her face flushed, her hands dusted with flour. She looks up as we enter, her expression softening into a smile as she catches sight of us, her eyes lingering on our joined hands.

“Sabrina,” she says, her voice warm as she pulls me into a hug, her arms tight around me. “Valentina. I’m so glad you’re here.”

I hug her back, my heart full, my eyes stinging with tears I don’t bother to hide. “Me too,” I murmur, my voice rough, my gaze finding Valentina’s over Mamma’s shoulder.

Valentina smiles, her expression soft, her free hand coming to rest on the small of my back, warm and steady through the thin fabric of my dress. “Always,” she says simply, her voice low, her eyes warm and fond on mine.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of food and laughter, of too-loud conversations and too-full plates. We sit side-by-side at the crowded dinner table, our shoulders brushing, our hands finding each other beneath the tablecloth, her fingers tangling with mine, her thumb stroking the back of my hand in that way I’ve come to crave.

It’s late by the time we finally make our way back to our room, the house quieting around us, the last of the guests finally gone. Valentina kicks the door shut behind us, her arms coming around my waist, her lips finding mine in the dark.

I melt into her, my hands fisting in her hair, pulling her closer as I deepen the kiss, pouring every ounce of my love and my gratitude into the press of my lips against hers. It’s a kiss that feels like coming home, like the answer to a question I didn’t even know I was asking.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless, our foreheads pressed together, our lips swollen and red. Valentina’s lips quirk into a soft smile, her thumb stroking my cheekbone in a gesture that still steals my breath, even after all these months.

“Hi,” she whispers, her voice rough, her eyes searching mine.

I smile, my heart in my throat, my stomach fluttering with a joy I’m still not quite used to feeling. “Hi,” I echo, my voice rough, my fingers stroking the soft skin behind her ear.

For a long moment, neither of us speaks, the silence between us warm and comfortable, the quiet hum of the house settling around us. Then Valentina shifts beside me, her lips brushing mine in a kiss that’s soft and sweet and full of promise.

“Love you,” she murmurs against my lips, her voice low, her fingers tightening around mine.

I close my eyes, my heart in my throat, my free hand coming up to tangle in her hair, pulling her closer as I deepen the kiss. “Love you too,” I whisper, my voice rough, my lips curving into a smile against hers.

And in that moment, I know—I know that this is it. That this is the life I want, the future I choose. That this woman, this beautiful, brave, brilliant woman, is my forever.

It started as a favor, a temporary measure to avoid an awkward weekend. It became the best decision I ever made.