Free The Affair: Week 8 by Beth Kery

seemed to escalate every day, the fire fed by their increasing trust and feelings for each other. When they’d been together during that amazing, magical week at La Mer before, they usually made love after lunch. It was a habit she was looking forward to making a tradition.
    “I’m definitely selfish about one thing. I’m dreading the fact that people will start to arrive tomorrow for the wedding,” she said against his plucking lips a moment later, highly distracted by the feeling of his hand moving along the curve of her hip and ass. “Dean, Michelle, Amanda, Colin, Niki—”
    Something struck her and she rolled back, staring at Vanni’s face.
    “What?” he asked.
    “
Niki
. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before. Because of Cristina, Niki is a relation to you, isn’t he?” she asked.
    Vanni nodded, and she was glad to see how calm he looked. Since he’d revealed to her that he’d known Cristina was his biological mother, her name didn’t come up often between them. Still, Emma didn’t consider Cristina to be a taboo topic for Vanni, like she had before, and she was glad to observe firsthand that she’d been right in her assumption. He seemed quite comfortable as he pulled her back into position close to him, resuming his caress on her naked hip.
    “Cristina was Niki’s great-aunt, so I guess that makes us second cousins or something?” he said, glancing down and watching himself rub her hip.
    “Does Niki know?”
    Vanni shook his head. “I’ve never told another soul about Cristina.”
    “Do you think you’ll ever tell him?” Emma asked quietly, cupping his shoulder.
    “Maybe. Probably,” he amended after a moment. He met her stare, looking pensive. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
    “Okay,” Emma said, sensing his intensity.
    “Take off your bikini first.”
    “What?” she asked, surprised.
    “Just do it,” he directed, the quirk of his brow a subtle challenge.
    She laughed, but did as he asked, then lay on her side next to him again. His gaze moved over her naked body with warm appreciation.
    “Okay?” she asked amusedly.
    “Better than okay,” he murmured, caressing the side of her breast and sweeping it downward over her sensitive side, making her shiver. His hand opened on her hip and he met her stare. “Do you think it was wrong of me, not to grant Cristina forgiveness when she asked it of me?”
    Emma tried to mask her surprise at the unexpected question.
    “No,” she said honestly. “Forgiveness is a state of mind. You know what I’ve told you all along about Amanda and me. If you weren’t feeling it, if they were just words, it would have been wrong to lie about it.”
    He stared out at the sea as he rubbed her hip, the sun-infused water turning his eyes into brilliant cerulean crescents.
    “Vanni . . . do you
want
to forgive her?” Emma asked.
    His mouth quirked slightly. “It’s too late now.”
    She touched his whiskered jaw, and he looked at her.
    “It’s never too late.”
    She saw his throat convulse as he swallowed.
    “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said out there.” He nodded toward the floating dock. “About me carrying a good load of the guilt for Adrian’s death, and how Cristina knew that, and how she asked for my forgiveness not just for her . . .”
    “But for you,” Emma said, tears burning her eyes. It was a miracle to her, to see him tackling his demons . . . to watch him heal. “That’s why it’s never too late to forgive, Vanni. Because in the act of forgiving another, the forgiver is changed . . . lightened. But it’s not something that you can just
say
. You have to—
    “Feel it,” he said, nodding. “I understand it’s not black and white, like I thought. And I
do
. Feel it, I mean. I’ll never love Cristina, but I understand that she was doing all that she was capable of, coming there to mother Adrian and me . . . never really feeling or wanting that role. She was