Dillon’s words echoed in my head, a bitter reminder:“If you think he hasn’t cared or done anything for you in the past fiveyears, I can honestly tell you that thought isn’t true.”
Confusion intertwined with offense.
What had Ronan done for me recently besides causing heartache? And why, despite everything, did he remain an unshakeable fixture in my thoughts?
It was easier when he was distant, only a shadow in the background. But now that he was back, every glance, every word between us seemed charged with a depth I can’t ignore.
As if on cue, a message flashed on my phone from Alejandro, asking if I wanted to hang out, which I dismissed without a second thought.
Night draped the city in shadows, and with it came Ronan.
With a tired breath, I slipped into my closet, where old memories waited like ghosts. Beneath faded scarves and forgotten boxes, I found one tied with worn ribbons. Inside were sepia photos and an envelope sealed with a promise I never broke.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
The garden bloomed again around me—New York, peonies in the air, sunlight on Ronan’s face. His hand at my waist, his kiss warm against my cheek. Even faded, the moment was painfully alive.
Tears blurred my vision as I traced the edges of a life that never was, but beneath the ache, something steadier took root.
I returned the photos to their box and slid it back into the dark, leaving the past where it belonged.
Chapter Fourteen
RONAN
Present Day
ITALY
There was a thin line between love and hate, and I was standing on it, feeling it crack beneath me. Every word she never said cut deeper than anything she could have.
She never said no, but she never said yes.
She left me in that dangerous, intoxicating space where I could choose everything or nothing. Even when I wasn’t there, I was doing both.
Now, I was done balancing.
I’d break the line.
Burn it.
Build something new from the ashes because life without her was a sky without stars—dark, cold, endless, with nothing worth reaching for.
I couldn’t live in that void anymore. Not when I knew she was the only light worth chasing.
If I was going to exist, it would be with her.
“We’re here,” Rachel announced as I pulled up to a miniature and cozy home tucked away in the streets of Tuscany. I nodded, exited the car, and approached the door, feeling a tinge of anxiety creeping in.
After more than three knocks, the latch clicked open, and I was met with a hesitant gaze, not joy. My eyes instantly landed on the striking resemblance to the love of my life—warm olive skin, silver-streaked chestnut waves framing her face.
She stood in the doorway, unreadable.
“Buongiorno, signora Nicolette,20” I greeted warmly, a smile trying to break through my nervousness as she stood there, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of disbelief. I couldn’t blame her; I’d be shocked too if the guy who broke my daughter’s heart suddenly showed up at my doorstep.
“Why areyouhere?” she asked sharply, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Clearing my throat, I responded sincerely, “I came to speak with you.”
