Page 45 of She Who Was Once the Sea

Chapter 20 - Marella

The apartment looked no different than it had the day before. Light spilled in from the tall windows, curtains blowing in the breeze. There was no evidence that anything monumental had taken place at all. No great fissure had opened in the floor. The walls still stood, unscathed.

And yet, when I looked at it, all I could see was the crumbling mess of mistakes piling around me.

I’d considered following him. At one point, I’d even stepped outside, into the piazza, where I’d wandered around fruitlessly, trying not to make eye contact with any of the late night revelers.

But I couldn’t bring myself to hunt him down.

In the bright light of the early morning, I sat on the edge of the bed, in exactly the same place he’d left me the night before.

I could still feel his mouth on mine.

Every time I closed my eyes, I was back against the wall with him pressed into me, his fingers on my skin, his mouth at my throat, his body warm and solid and so wonderfully alive…

And then—

Garrett?

The way he’d looked at me. The sudden flash of terror.

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes.

I had five more days.

I was a fool. Whatever egotistical urge had convinced me that this was possible was wholly evaporated. In its place was a horrible, yearning sort of desperation.

Because it wasn’t just my life on the line anymore. I could deal with the threat of being locked away forever. And my family wouldn’t even know the difference.

But now.

Now, his freedom was threatened. And that knowledge petrified me to my core.

Better go get him.

I could find the Fratelli. I was sure it wouldn’t be hard. I could wander the streets until we crossed paths, then smile and pretend that last night meant nothing.

The fact that it meant everything is what scared him… right?

I threw myself back onto the bed, groaning in frustration.

Men had never been difficult to manipulate. I’d been doing it for centuries. A glance held for just the right amount of time. A hand placed in the crook of an elbow. A carefully chosen word spoken at the exact right volume.

But Petra was right.

Love was something different. And try as I might, I didn’t know how to manufacture it.

The fact that Garrett wanted me didn’t seem to make a difference. Not when he was clearly at war with himself over it.

I pulled one of the fluffy pillows from the bed and pressed it against my face, screaming into the fabric until my throat felt raw. And then, when I couldn’t scream anymore, I stood, crossed the room, slipped into my shoes, and left the apartment.

I wasn’t going looking for him.

At least, that’s what I told myself as I descended the narrow staircase to the ground floor.

I just needed to get outside. I just needed some fresh air, an escape from the memories of last night.

The piazza was already crawling with people when I stepped out into the warm sunshine, reveling in the feeling of it kissing my shoulders.