Nicola didn’t ride with us, instead meeting us at the tarmac in her own private car.
When we boarded the plane, I let Alex drag me into the back half of the cabin. I didn’t ask where she was sitting. I already knew—front row, next to my sister.
Far away. Where it was safe.
Where she didn’t have to look at me and remember what she’d said. What I stillfelt.
I pressed my forehead to the window, watching the tarmac blur, pretending the ache in my chest was from lack of sleep.
Alex nudged me halfway through takeoff. “You good, mate?”
“Peachy,” I said with a grin so wide it hurt. “Just pumped for Portofino. Sun, sea, sin—what more could a man want?”
He gave me a look. One of those, ‘I know you’re full of shit’ looks. But thankfully, he didn’t push.
And I didn’t crack.
Not until I caught sight of her—Nicola, leaning her head against the window a few rows ahead, sunglasses on even though we were inside, pretending to nap.
She looked untouchable. Shewasuntouchable.
I forced my eyes away, leaned back, and threw on a pair of headphones. I tried to drown out the memory of her skin under my hands by blasting music. Her voice gasping out my name. Her walking away.
12
NICOLA
It was just sex.
Justreallygood sex.
The kind that made you forget your own name and see constellations behind your eyelids. The kind that made your legs tremble for hours and your throat sore from all the filthy things you moaned without meaning to.
But still. Sex.
I repeated the word like a prayer.
Because itcouldn’tbe more. Not with Matteo. Not with the man who made it his life’s mission to charm everyone he met and who flashed smiles like currency and never took anything seriously—except maybe racing. And certainly not with someone likeme. Someone who had everything planned. And that plan did not include a relationship. Dating casually? Good sex? Sure. But a serious relationship? No, thank you.
It was already a mistake. A few mistakes, actually. If I let it become more, I knew it wouldn’t stop there.
So I pushed it down. I packed my suitcase, my self-respect, and my emotional whiplash. Then zipped it all up and got on the damn plane.
Portofino was sun-soaked and beautiful. It would’ve been perfect if everything hadn’t immediately started falling apart.
“Where the hell is the car service?” I asked, glaring at my phone like it might suddenly decide to be useful.
Matteo wandered up beside me, wearing a backwards hat, sunglasses, and that dumb, lazy grin that should’ve been illegal on a man that attractive.
“Maybe they heard you were coming and fled the scene?” he offered with a wink.
I didn’t dignify him with a response. Not with the memory of his mouthstilllingering in too many places on my body.
“We’ll rent something,” Lucia said, ever the peacemaker. “We’ll figure it out.”
And we did.
Sort of.
