Page 18 of Matteo

“You keep reminding me.” She pauses for a beat. “Family and truth,” she says, looking at my wrists again and this time her words feel weighted because I know the seeds of her story while she knows nothing about mine.

“It’s not … it’s not all fairytales and happiness,” I tell her. But then I think of her fear of confined spaces and something gnaws in my gut. She can talk about her childhood without any fear but this phobia of confined spaces, if it’s not to do with her early life trauma, what the hell is it to do with?

We stare at one another for a moment that is suspended in time.

“I’m going to be so late,” she groans.

I try to reassure her. “It’ll be okay.”

“You sound so Zen, you might as well be a monk.”

I laugh out loud. “Me? A monk? Hell, no.” While I like my own space, I could never be a monk. A celibate life is not for me.

I try to reassure her. “Whoever’s waiting for you will know that there’s been a problem with the elevator. Don’t worry about it too much.” I want the best for her, this stranger who walked into my life and has somehow made today a little more interesting.

“Are you always so sure that things are going to be okay?”

“If you don’t expect things to be okay, they never will be.” I'm an optimist, despite everything.

“Things always work out for you?”

“No, but I always try to find the positive in everything.”

So many questions, deep questions, the kind of questions I like. I feel like we could talk for hours and I'm tempted to ask for her number. Or ask if she wants to meet later for a drink or something, so we can have a proper conversation instead of being trapped like this.

Though, this hasn't been bad at all.

She stares at the doors again. “You think we’ll be out of here soon?”

“You heard the man.”

She sinks back against the wall again. “How long have you worked here?”

More questions. I'm on the verge of asking for her number. “Seems like forever—”

“Hello?” A thick, gravelly voice from the intercom interrupts our conversation.

Such bad fucking timing.

“Good,” I say, reluctantly. “How much longer is this going to take?”

“We’re almost there, sir.”

Almost there. My insides weigh with disappointment because I'd be happy to stay here for hours.

Chapter 6

MATTEO

“You said this has never happened before.”

“Not to my knowledge it hasn’t.” We’re still holding hands. Her skin feels so warm and soft against mine.

“What?” she asks.

“I don’t even know your name, and here I am stroking your wrists.”

“Elizabeth. Most people call me Liz or Lizzie.”