I can still feel him inside me.
It aches, but the ache is a sweet, delicious reminder.
I don't think I'll ever stop feeling him inside me.
And now he's gone.
I find myself disappointed, even knowing exactly why he had to leave.
We aren't exactly compatible.
And if the marshals found him here, they'd arrest him immediately.
The thought stops me short.
Wait, how did he come here?
His ankle monitor...?
I was so caught up, I didn't even think to ask.
The questions start piling up, and the guilt settles in.
He was here, in my house, breaking the terms of his parole.
I'm a federal prosecutor trying to put him back in prison. I could have had him arrested.
I should have.
I know this, but it doesn't change the fact that the only thing I want right now is for him to come back.
"Shit," I whisper, closing my eyes.
What have I done?
I open them again, and my gaze lands on a note next to the lamp.
I pick it up and unfold it.
"Panini," the note says.
I read the word, then read it again.
"Panini."
I refuse to smile at his stupid little nickname for me.
“Panini, I had to run. You know why. Drink plenty of water andeat something.”
I press the paper to my nose, hoping to catch a trace of him, but there's nothing.
It's just a piece of paper. My disappointment shocks me.
Last night was amazing, and I should be happy with that. It was amazing, and I was stupid—really, really stupid—and now it can be over.
But my brain doesn't want to accept that. My brain is stubborn, and my brain wants more.
My phone chirps and I snatch it up, but it's not Luca.
