So why do it again?
I turn off the light, letting the hum of the sea fill the room.
Somewhere outside, a wave crashes.
Somewhere inside, my heart does too.
***
I wake up to the smell of espresso and the sound of Nonna aggressively clinking plates in the kitchen.
For a moment, I forgot where I am.
The sunlight spills across the room — like it’s trying to kiss you awake. I blink up at the ceiling, still half-asleep.
The memories hit me again, and I groan.
I sit up slowly, dragging my hands down my face. I feel heavy, like sleep hasn’t done anything but make the ache sharper.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, but I don’t check it right away.
I already knew whowasn’ttexting me.
That’s all I need to know.
“Luca!” Nonna yells from downstairs. “If you don’t get up right now, I’ll feed your breakfast to the neighbor’s cat!”
I smile faintly.
Some things never change.
By the time I make it downstairs, she’s already setting the table like we are hosting a royal feast — scrambled eggs, croissants, fresh fruit, and three different cheeses.
“You’re insane,” I say, grinning.
She points a wooden spoon at me. “No. I’m Italian. Eat.”
I obey because I don’t have a death wish.
She pours me coffee — the kind that could wake the dead — and sits across from me, watching me like I’m an experiment.
“So,” she says finally, resting her chin on her hands. “You sleep well?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Liar.”
I blink. “What?”
“You have that look.” She narrows her eyes. “Like someone who is lying… about a girl.”
I almost spit out my coffee. “Nonna!”
“What?” She shrugs. “I was young once. I know heartbreak eyes when I see them.”
I stare at my plate. “It’s not… like that.”
“Mhmm.” She sips her espresso, unimpressed. “Then why do your shoulders look like you’re carrying a ghost?”
