He glances down at the screen. The light reflects off his eyes, turning them harder. “I wish it worked that way.”
The vibration stops. Then starts again. Persistent. Demanding. Not a good sign.
He exhales through his nose and straightens up until he’s sitting. “Unfortunately, I have to take this.”
Despite everything we just went through, his words hurt. I know he doesn’t mean to sound stern, but something old and apparently still sore tightens in my chest.
“Of course you do,” I reply lightly.
He stands, readjusting his clothes, and takes a few steps away. His voice drops as he answers. I don’t hear the words, but I can see how his back straightens, and it’s almost like his invisible armor falls back over him.
I wrap my arms around myself, staring out the window and toward the water.
Remembering.
Back when we were younger and things felt simple.
A few seconds pass before Lorenzo comes back. “I need to leave,” he says, already reaching for his coat.
My stomach and throat feel tight at the idea of him leaving. “Now?”
His gaze flicks to me, and his gaze softens. “Work. Unfortunately.”
Lorenzo crosses the small space between us and places a kiss on my lips. “I’ll make it up to you.”
I roll my eyes playfully. “You always say that.”
“Actually, I’m not sure I’ve ever said that,” he counters, shrugging into the coat. “Do you want me to take you home?”
“I actually want to talk to my parents.”
“Now, that I wish I could see, and actually take part in. But alas, my uncle needs me. Nico will take you home.”
“When will you be home?”
“Not sure. Hopefully tonight.” He reaches out, fingers brushing my jaw before leaning down and capturing my lips again.
The kiss only lasts a few seconds, and I feel empty when he finally pulls away.
“I’ll see you later.” He turns and walks away, phone already back at his ear. He doesn’t look back.
I hate that it still hurts when he leaves.
I storm into the house.
This is the last place I want to be. If I were smart, I’d just leave with Lorenzo . . .
But I can’t.
Not after realizing what my mother did.
It doesn’t take me long to find her in the living room.
I storm in.
She looks up from the sofa, surprise flickering across her face.
“Victoria—”
