I scratched the back of my head, my frustration mounting. “And this…thing with Alana? How much longer do you think it’ll last?”
Her eyes snapped to mine. For a moment, I braced for a reprimand, but then she smiled—a slow, thin thing that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Make sure you please her this weekend,” she said coolly. “After that, I think we’ll call it a day. I’ve got almost enough on her as it is.”
The air in the room felt suffocating, but I nodded. The end was near.
* * *
The soft drizzle outside tapped against the windows as I lounged on the sofa whileThe Dark Knightplayed on TV. The glow from the screen flickered across the dim room. A half-eaten bowl of popcorn sat beside me, untouched for the past half hour.
I wished Cosimo or Alessio had come with me to the Hamptons tonight, but they had other plans. They were always busy with something. Meanwhile, I felt stuck in a purgatory I couldn't wait to escape.
I didn’t plan to stay up late. My sleep was still fucked up, and I didn’t want to be a groggy mess for tomorrow’s event.
The movie credits began to roll when a knock at the door startled me.
I frowned, pushing off the couch. No one else was supposed to be here tonight.
When I peered through the peephole, I froze.
Alana stood on the other side, her hair damp from the rain, dark spots blooming across her blouse.
I opened the door. She gave me a breathless smile, though she seemed nervous. “Your mom told me you’d be here.”
A cold prickle crawled down my spine.
She did?
Fuck.
I had assumed my mother would want me to kiss Alana again during the party, but now, realization sank in.
That wasn’t the plan.
This—tonight, while we were alone—was the plan.
“Won't you invite me in?”
I raked a hand through my hair. “Yeah. Sorry. Come in.” I stepped aside, catching the faint scent of alcohol as she brushed past me. Glancing out, I saw her car parked in the driveway, rainwater glistening on its hood. She’d driven here after drinking.
I shut the door and followed her into the living room. “Is everything okay?”
She whirled around too fast, her arms flailing slightly before falling to her sides.
“Yeah,” she said, but it came out brittle. “I just had a fight with my husband. It’s a long story, but I couldn’t stay there anymore.”
“You have a place in the Hamptons?” I asked.
“A friend’s house. The kids and I have been here for the last two weeks. My husband works in the city during the week and only comes down for the weekends, but—” She waved a hand, dismissing the thought. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”
She sank onto the sofa, her gaze landing on the frozen credits on the TV. I hesitated before sitting beside her, and the cushion dipped under my weight.
“Do you want to watch something?” I asked. How was I supposed to act around her when she was in this kind of a mood?
She shook her head, her eyes distant. I could tell her thoughts were elsewhere, likely consumed by the fight she didn’t want to discuss.
“No, Romolo, I don’t want to watch anything.” Her hand appeared on my thigh. “Being with you makes me feel young again, like I’m just a girl with her whole life ahead of her. You make life…less heavy.”
