Page 156 of Matteo

I don't know what to think, but I have a code when it comes to relationships. The lying and the cheating. The secrets. I never thought I’d suffer the same as Mama.

Elizabeth isn’t cheating on me. That much I’m sure of, but it’s what she refuses to tell me, the words she doesn’t say, the past she doesn’t explain, the secrets she keeps, that bother me.

Because of the things I know.

Soon, I’m sitting down at the kitchen table, while Mama fusses around me. I told her I was hungry and tired and she’s getting food ready for me as she asks a hundred questions. She wants to know about the wedding, and my trip to Croatia. She wants to know about Elizabeth.

She plates a heaping portion of pasta and her to-die-for pasta sauce and meatballs, and sets it in front of me.

“Let’s call the boys,” she says. She insists on Facetime calls whenever one of us visits, so that we can all feel like we're there. She misses us, that’s obvious to see, and I hate to diminish her joy, but my heart isn't in it, not at this moment.

“Can I eat first, please, Mama?”

“Of course,” she says. “We’ll call the boys tomorrow.”

She sits down and watches me eat, a permanent smile on her face.

Chapter 37

ELIZABETH

I stand, hands on the railing, facing the deep blue water which glitters under the midday sun. The scent of sea and salt infuse the air.

This is the kind of view that should make me feel alive and happy. Instead, I feel lost, like I don’t know what I should be doing. A pain rips through my chest as I think of Matteo’s cracked compass tattoo. I’ve traced it with my fingertips so many times. Dropped tiny kisses all along it.

And now I can’t stop thinking about him.

Vlad's yacht—I was shocked to discover he had one—glides along the Adriatic. Today is an extension of the wedding reception and the mood is celebratory, as guests mill about. The newlyweds are surrounded by smiling friends. Everyone seems to know exactly where they’re headed.

I’m the only one who feels rudderless and adrift.

I look away, feeling utterly miserable.

Matteo leaving me like he did, cuts deep. I feel abandoned by him, and wrongly accused and judged. I feel like I didn’t really know him as well as I thought I did.

He's in Soave now. I don’t know how long he’ll be there, or when he plans to return to the US. I don't expect him to come back to Dubrovnik, because I don't think he wants to see me, let alone travel back with me. I can’t erase the way he looked at me that last time, the way he treated me, like he couldn't get away fast enough. He made the choice to walk away, and believe the worst of me, and I've been sitting in that anger and heartbreak ever since he left.

Thinking of him, I reach for my phone, because despite everything, I miss him. I hate that I miss him. I hate him, too, in almost equal measure.

That's enough to make me abandon the idea of calling.

It angers me that he accepted Alex's accusation so easily, without digging deeper or giving me the benefit of the doubt.

I slipped away quickly after dinner, without telling anyone.

Now the hotel suite feels empty without him. The bed is too big. I don’t enjoy the views from the window. I don’t enjoy breakfast. I don’t enjoy the shower.

Every memory in that room is etched in my brain as plainly as it is imprinted in all the surfaces our sweaty, sleek bodies touched.

I keep recalling the good times we shared together, and now being here is too much. The memories are painful, and I feel all alone.

He took all his belongings with him. The wardrobe is empty. The bathroom counter is clear. There’s no trace of him. It’s obvious that he's not coming back.

He's been hurt, but he hasn't considered that he might be wrong. Or how much he's hurt me. He quietly assesses everything around him, and he's broody and silent, because his response is always measured. He doesn’t lash out. He doesn’t do things without thinking and a lot of his world view is shaped, I think, by the hurt he experienced as a child. The world around him collapsed, and he suddenly saw that it was built on lies and cheating.

I have a feeling that’s how he sees me.

But he got this so wrong.