Page 90 of The Fall Affair

“Only a few letters.”

“Did you invite him to come over? Does he live here?”

She shook her head. “He’s from Sweden. He’s playing in Milan this week. Just passing through.”

“Milan is five hours from here, Izzy. That’s a long way to pass through.”

She looked like she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

“What did you write about?” I asked. “In your letters?”

“I don’t know. Life. Music. Nothing romantic. I swear. He sends me lyrics to songs he’s working on.”

My mind raced. “But you slept with him, yes?”

“We were living in the same village, and I was lonely. But it ended, and I came back. Came back home to you.”

“Did you stamp his stationery with the stamp you made for writing to me?”

She didn’t have to answer, her face said it all.

“If there’s nothing going on, why wouldn’t you tell me about him?”

“Because I knew how it would sound. And it didn’t mean anything.” She stepped closer again, putting her hands on my chest, and this time I didn’t move. “Matteo, I love you. There’s nothing going on between me and him. I had no idea he was going to show up at my door. I swear. I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want to hurt you more than I already had. I’m sorry.”

I looked down at her hands, then into her eyes. And I saw it—that steady pull I’d never been able to walk away from, not even when she came back and I’d been happy with Bianca. It was the look that had wrecked me when she left for Cambodia, and it still had the power to drown me now. I exhaled slowly. “I don’t want you to write to him anymore.”

“Okay.” She smiled. “I won’t. I promise.”

***

“Do your parents at least save da boxes?” I glanced around at Izzy’s living room. It was once again filled with moving boxes, half open, half sealed, and piled almost to the celling. Izzy sat cross-legged in the middle of the chaos, her hands working a block of clay on a pottery wheel—her newest hobby. It had come after candle making and maybe stained glass…I think. I couldn’t remember anymore.

Her family had only been at this rental for six months. For a change, her parents were moving out together. Her brother was moving to Florence with a roommate, so it would only be the three of them now. The new rental was two hours away from the university I went to.

“They flatten the boxes and store them under all of our beds,” she said, looking up. “That’s why they’re silver-taped, to keep their shape again.” She smiled—just a little, the kind that curled at the corners of her mouth and sparkled in her eyes, and I felt it in my chest.

That’s all it ever took. I’d never stopped falling for this girl.

Pressing her foot down on the pedal, she started the wheel spinning.

“Let’s get married,” I yelled over the whirl.

She lifted her foot off, and the wheel whined to a stop. “What?”

I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms, trying not to grin too much. “I said, let’s get married.”

She blinked and laughed. “You’re crazy. We’re only nineteen.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen. Most people who get married in their twenties aren’t in love that long.”

Her face went soft. “Where would we live?”

I shrugged. “In my dorm.”

I didn’t have any doubts about marrying Izzy. Hell, I would’ve done it a year ago. But I did have doubts about how much I’d see her once she was living so far away. Worse, she was talking about maybe studying the art of woodworking—in Japan. I didn’t think getting married would stop her, but at least I’d know she was coming back to me.

“You want us to live in your dorm room?” Her nose wrinkled. “But you have a roommate.”