“I think you’ve made that pretty obvious over the years.” I use my voice to imitate him. “Why are you always here, Gabi? Every time I turn around, there you are. Quit following me around like a puppy. It’s getting a little desperate, don’t you think?”
He just stands there, staring at me, and I don’t know why I’ve ripped this wound open—but I may as well bleed out.
“You were something to pass the time. If you knew what I really thought of you, you’d never come near me. Fuck off, Gabi. I never want to see you again.”
I try to hide the hurt in that last one, but it cracks through my voice, and I’m sure he hears it.
That was the day he finally broke my heart in half.
I’m sure he thinks that makes me even more pathetic. I bet he’ll go back to his lair and laugh about it. Maybe he should, because as I’m standing here thinking about it, it is pathetic. It’s been years, and here I am, following him around to see if he has a scar.
“Gabi—” His voice comes out soft, and I’m quite certain it’s only because he can see I’m on the verge of tears, which is ridiculous. Romeo might hate me, but making me cry where others could see it might be a bridge too far, even for him.
“Look,” I cut him off. “There’s no point getting into this. We have no choice but to coexist, but I’m tired of this war between us. I don’t want to do it anymore. I just want to forget what happened the other day and never talk about it again, so we can move on with our lives.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” A muscle in his jaw tics. “Moving on with Riccardo? What a lucky guy.”
“Well, the bar is pretty much in hell. He doesn’t hate me, so that’s a start. And it’s not like I have a choice.”
He stares at me like he wants to say something else, but unsurprisingly, he doesn’t.
“Hey!” Abella comes around the side of the house, glancing between us with wide eyes when she sees Romeo in his towel. “Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to let you know Riccardo sent Angelo a message. He’s having some boat trouble, and it looks like he’ll be late. But Nonna wants to get started anyway, so we can have dinner on time.”
“Okay.” I swallow and nod. “I’ll join you in a couple of minutes. I just need to go to the bathroom.”
Abella frowns at the obvious emotion in my voice. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I force a smile. “I’ll meet you in the ballroom.”
I scoop Beppe up and walk away, but as I’m leaving, I can hear her asking Romeo what he did to me. Whatever he says in response, I don’t want to know.
Somehow, I manage to make it to the guest bathroom before I sink against the door and let my tears fall.
It’s stupid. I don’t even know why I’m crying, or why I brought any of that up when I’ve told myself repeatedly I wouldn’t let him get to me anymore.
I guess maybe I underestimated how much being with Eros could trigger old wounds. Safety shouldn’t hurt. But all the things Eros is giving me are things Romeo once gave me. As much as I want to think I’m over it, my body remembers.
This is why I’m so terrified of being hurt again. I’ve been here before, and I know how painful it can be when someone pulls that rug out from under you. And the worst part is, today has proven that grief never really goes away.
Every time I’m near Romeo, my throat gets tight, and my body goes to war. My mind screams at me to run, to protect myself, but my heart remembers that familiar pull.
I hate these dualities. But more than anything, I hate that he could forget me so easily, while I’m still crying in a bathroom nine years later because someone else chose to be nice to me.
Beppe nudges me with his nose, reminding me that he’s here for me as he presses himself against my chest. I curl my fingers into his fur and kiss the top of his head, feeling a sudden surge of emotion just knowing how much he loves me.
He’s my soul dog, and his presence has gotten me through more rough times than I can count.
I cuddle with him for a few more minutes until my resolve strengthens, and I feel like I’m in a better place to go face reality.
I take a few breaths and wipe away my tears before I head for the ballroom.
Beppe follows me down the hall, where music is already playing, and I can hear the sound of laughter as Nonna makes her observations.
“Don’t be so stiff!” she shouts. “Ahhh, yes, loosen the hips.”
When I walk in, I find that she’s already assigned pairs. To no one’s surprise, Angelo and Abella are outshining everyone, gliding across the dance floor like they do this every day. Then again, they’ve had many years of Nonna’s instruction.
Michele is paired with Valentina, and Cristian with Chantel, while Mariella and Rafe take turns dancing Antonella around the room.
