“They’re not evil people, Marlen. If you spend time with them, you’ll see that,” she says.
I shake my head. “I can’t,” I say simply. “I can’t do it, Talia, I’m sorry.”
She smiles tightly, reluctantly accepting my decline.
“It was good to see you, though, Marlen,” she says.
“You too, kiddo. I’d better get going,” I say, stepping close to her and hugging her. It’s a brief, awkward embrace that makes my heart ache with more regret.
I want my family to feel whole again. With everything going on, I feel separated from them. Detached and distanced. Everything that’s going on with Bardil has left me with questions and doubt. But I don’t want to believe he did what they claim. There is some other explanation, I just have to find out what it is.
And Simon is still upset with me about the Stefania situation. He still wants me to let her go home, but I can’t.
And Talia, my little sister.
We’re all moving in different directions, further away from each other. I’m the head of the family. I’m the one who needs to fix this.
I just wish I knew how.
Chapter 18 - Stefania
Every day that passes, I grow closer to Marlen. I can’t even force myself to view him as the man who kidnapped me anymore. He is so far from that person in my eyes that I sometimes worry I’ve tricked myself. Watching him move about the kitchen, making homemade pizza with me, I think to myself,maybe I have Stockholm syndrome.The thought makes me giggle, and Marlen turns to look at me with narrowed eyes. “What are you laughing at over there, cutie?” he asks. He looks gorgeous in his blue jeans and long-sleeved black hoodie.
Cutie?
My heart stutters when I hear the nickname. He’s never really called me anything sweet like that before. It’s not helping my Stockholm issues at all.
With a wide grin, I tilt my head to the side. “Who taught you how to grate cheese? I don’t think that’s the right way to hold the grater,” I tease him. He glances at his hands, the grater lying flat on the table instead of standing up. “This works better than the normal way,” he says, defending himself.
“You’re just the type of person who doesn’t like to follow other people’s rules, aren’t you?” I say, moving closer to him.
He sets the cheese aside and grabs my arm, tugging me against his chest.
“I’d rather make my own rules than follow someone else,” he says, his voice deep and drawing me in.
He leans close as though he wants to kiss me, but I’m feeling cheeky and playful. Wanting to prove to myself that I won’t fold so easily.
“I have a rule you better follow if you want to enjoy the rest of our pizza-making party,” I giggle.
“Is that so? What rule do you have for me, little one?” he growls, his voice edged with desire.
I reach around him, grabbing the fresh pineapple that he hasn’t started cutting yet.
“This… goes in cocktails, not on pizza!” I declare, pushing the pineapple into his hands.
He exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, clutching the pineapple to his chest as I step away from him. Laughing, he says, “I bet you every couple has this argument at some point. And the poor pineapple, innocent, gets caught in the middle of this battle that reigns through eternity. This sweet, colorful little pineapple didn’t do anything to you. Why are you rejecting him like that?” Marlen cradles the pineapple in one arm and hugs it. The hard green crown of the fruit spikes his cheek, and he winces, pulling a face. “Damn, this thing is spiky,” he complains, setting it down on the kitchen counter again.
I love it when he lets his playful side out. It’s weird to think how grumpy he comes across to everyone around him, even me in the beginning. But now that I’ve broken past his walls, he smiles often, laughing freely.
“Couple?” I ask, my heart racing as I repeat what he said.
“Couple what?” he asks, confused.
“Everycouplehas had the pizza-pineapple argument?” I grin, cheekily. I should leave it alone, but lately my heart is full of hope. Silly hope. Childish and naïve, but hope nonetheless.
“Uh, yeah, I mean, I was just saying. You know. Friends. Couples. Married people.” He trips over his words as his cheeks flush red. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Marlen blush, andI savor the awkwardness he’s trying to hide.Maybe he has feelings for me, too?The little voice in my head is full of encouragement.
“Anyway,” he mutters. “How about you sacrifice the fruit to the blender and make us a Pina Colada?”
