It seems to remind us both that we don’t know where we go from here, and when I turn to face him, everything feels awful again.
He’s so handsome it hurts to look at him, and I realize now it was a terrible idea to come in here. Because all I can think about is doing something stupid—like confessing the truth. This spark of foolish hope inside me can’t be trusted.
There is no universe in which Cristian will welcome me into his arms when he finds out who I really am.
“Do you have any extra toothpaste?” I blurt.
I’m not sure where that even came from. I have no need for toothpaste, which I’m certain Cristian knows. But he goes into his bathroom to retrieve some anyway.
When he brings it to me, our fingers brush, and that moment suspends itself before I finally lower my arm.
“Anything else you need?” His voice dips.
“No.” I lose myself in the depths of his eyes.
“I left a card on your nightstand,” he tells me. “I want you to use it from now on. No guilt. No argument. It’s yours.”
My throat tightens because he knows me well enough to predict that I would feel guilty and try to argue. But right now, the current tension between us is already too much to bear. I want to apologize to him, but I know if I do, I won’t be able to resist if he touches me. So I say the only thing I can.
“Goodnight, Cristian.”
“Goodnight,” he answers gruffly.
As I walk down the corridor to the guest room, I think of at least ten other things I could have said. And as I lay in bed, not sleeping, they continue to plague me throughout the night.
At some point, I feel the bed depress on the other side, and he lies beside me. He doesn’t try to touch me, and I have to assume that he thinks I’m asleep.
We stay like that until morning when he leaves my room to get ready for work. When he does, I roll over and press my palm to the bed, absorbing the last traces of his warmth.
After his shower, he comes back down the hall, and I expect that he’ll just leave. But he doesn’t. He walks around to my side of the bed, and like a coward, I keep my eyes closed.
I’m not sure I even breathe as he stands there, softly brushing my hair aside. Then he leans down, presses a kiss to my temple, and whispers the words that will soon come to haunt me.
“Torna da me, gattina.”
“Hey.” I run into Abella as I’m leaving Cristian’s wing. “I was just coming to join you.”
She nods, but I can tell something is off when she doesn’t fully meet my gaze.
“Is everything okay?”
“I need you to come to the family room,” she says.
Quiet dread settles in my gut as I force a nod and fall into step beside her.
My initial thought is that they’ve figured it out, and this is my reckoning. Cristian’s not here, so who knows how they’ll decide to handle it. But maybe that’s for the best.
I brace for impact, my mind spiraling through every possibility. But none of them could prepare me for what I actually walk into.
Nonna, Gabi, Valentina, and Mariella are all gathered in the family room, and every one of them has obviously been crying.
“What’s going on?” I rasp.
“Come sit down.” Mariella pats the space beside her.
I shake my head, as if I can avoid the news they’re about to deliver if I stay right here.
Beside me, Abella finds my hand and squeezes it.