Her silence speaks volumes. I rake my hand through my hair, fighting the urge to punch something.
"I'm done here." I turn to leave, then stop. "But I'm not done with us."
Over the next three days, I change tactics. Brute force won't work with Katerina. It never did.
She's not some business rival to intimidate or enemy to eliminate.
She thinks I loved and left her and didn’t look back.
She’s built a wall that will take time for her to lower.
I bring coffee when I come to see Enzo, the way she likes it, one sugar, splash of cream.
I listen when she talks about his schooling instead of charging ahead with my own ideas.
Small things. Patient things. Foreign concepts to a man who takes what he wants.
Two days ago, I cornered her in the kitchen when she dropped off paperwork for Alessandro.
Trapped her against the counter with my arms on either side, close enough to breathe her in but not touching.
"Move, Luca," she'd said, voice steady but pupils dilated, betraying her attempt at anger.
"Make me." I'd leaned closer, watched her pulse jump at her throat.
When I finally kissed her, she'd melted for three heartbeats before shoving me away, eyes flashing in a combination of desire and irritation.
"I'm not your toy," she'd snapped, straightening her blouse.
"Never said you were." I'd let her go, satisfied by the desire in her eyes that she couldn't hide.
Last night, after Enzo was asleep, we sat on her porch. Not close, but not as far apart as before. Small steps.
"You're different," she’d said.
"No." I sipped my whiskey. "Just remembering who I was with you."
She studied me over her wineglass. "This act won't last, Luca. The first time something doesn't go your way?—"
"This isn't an act." I cut her off, keeping my voice measured even though my anger simmered. She could see I was trying, but it didn’t matter. "But believe what you want. I've got time."
"That's what I'm afraid of," she said, and for the first time since I've returned, I saw a crack in her armor.
This morning, I enter the kitchen and hear the sound of Enzo's laughter filtering through the window.
I look out and see him and Katerina walking to her car.
Enzo is wearing a backpack that looks nearly as big as he is. She must be taking him to school.
It’s another area of his life I missed.
His first day of kindergarten.
Teacher conferences. School recitals.
Katerina tosses her head back, laughing at something Enzo is saying. Even from here, I can feel the pull toward her.
It's been like this since I returned, a constant electric current between us, charging every space we occupy together.
