She was in a similarly vulnerable state the last time I kissed her. And I know she feels like I took advantage of that. I’m not about to make the same mistake twice.
I lean backwards and her eyes grow wide. It’s impossible to miss the sting of rejection. I turn away, resting my hands against the steering wheel.
“Go, Lindsay. I’ll watch you enter the hotel from here,” I say, needing to put some distance between myself and the suffocating control she seems to have over me.
“Fuck you, Matteo,” she snarls, opening the door and then slamming it.
I wait until she’s inside the hotel. And then I wait until I’m sure she’s made it to her room. My fingers itch as I battle the urge to follow her. Because I know she’s not truly okay. And she needs someone with her right now.
But I’m not that person and I’m pretty sure I’d only make her feel worse.
I should leave. Head home, see my son, although it’s way past his bedtime. Instead I stay put, because despite everything Iknow how terrified she is. And a part of me doesn’t want to leave her alone.
I’ll continue my silent vigil from afar.
And wonder if she’ll ever let me in enough that it ends.
CHAPTER 10
Lindsay
My head is a mess. My heart is a mess. My soul is a mess.
I’m a complete mess.
The ceiling of my room in the penthouse is so far away and yet it feels like it’s crushing me. I lie in bed facing upwards. I’ve spent a lot of time in this bed in the last few days. Food has been taken care of by room service, and I skipped work for the third day in a row.
My paralegal was shocked. I never take days off, let alone three in a row. But the thought of walking into the office after everything that’s happened, makes me feel sick.
Even the thought of walking out of this room has my heart tightening. I’m experiencing the textbook symptoms of PTSD. Nightmares, flashbacks, hypervigilance, and I’m completely and wholly avoiding my life and everything in it.
Which is why it’s especially irritating when I hear the doorbell of the penthouse chime.
I climb out of bed slowly, wondering who it could be. There’s a security camera that allows me to see who’s on the other side of the door and I sigh heavily when I see the person the monitor displays.
Briefly, I consider not opening the door. But if she’s taken the time to come all the way here when she’s this pregnant, she must really be worried about me. The doorbell rings again and I clench my jaw before opening the door to reveal Valentina.
Her stomach is so big and she’s so beautiful and moves through the world with grace. She’s glowing the way she always does these days. With that aggressive, undeniable pregnancy glow.
The last time I saw her was at the bakery, going over crib sheets. That afternoon feels like it belongs to a different person’s life entirely.
I slept with Matteo Vitale. I got kidnapped. He killed three men in front of me. And now I’m here, standing in a hotel robe, looking at my pregnant best friend like she’s the only solid thing in the room.
Despite everything, she looks radiant. She’s given up buttoning her cream coat. Her dark hair is loose. I suddenly feel very self-conscious in my faded black shirt and shorts. I haven’t taken a shower since yesterday. Valentina takes me in with a small, sad smile on her face.
“Hi, Lin. You look rough,” she says.
“You look amazing,” I mutter, turning around quickly and heading back into the penthouse.
I head toward the living room, hearing her footsteps behind me as she follows.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Your dad,” Valentina replies. I gesture for her to take a seat on the couch and she does, eyes roaming around the penthouse. “He told me you’ve been staying here for a while. This is a nice place. Very bougie. Very you.”
I cross my arms over my chest, my expression closed off.
“What are you doing here, Valentina?”
