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That was how much I wanted to talk to her.
And I would think about Vanessa the entire time I was with this woman.
Because Vanessa had covered my body in more scars than my tattoos did.
I only wanted her.
Tonight wouldn’t prove anything. It was just a tedious task I was doing because I wanted to make myself feel better, to pretend that Vanessa didn’t mean a damn thing to me.
She didn’t mean anything to me. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t want just her.
“I just remembered I have to be somewhere.”
“It’s two in the morning…” She raised an eyebrow. “Where do you have to be?”
I had to be alone in my bed, my hand wrapped around my length to the thought of the woman I despised. “I’m married.” It was a lie, but it was the easiest way to get out of this situation with the least amount of talking.
Her eyes flared in disgust. Then she slapped me across the face—hard.
It didn’t feel good the way Vanessa’s slaps did.
“You’re a pig.”
“Yeah,” I said indifferently. “I know.”
She got into her car and drove away.
I went home alone, getting into my big empty bed. I was eager for sex, eager for Vanessa’s kisses. I wanted her nails to claw my back until she drew blood. I missed her screams as they ruptured my eardrums.
So I would just have to wait until she came back.
I knew she would call me. It was only a matter of time.
7
Vanessa
The week came to an end, and while I enjoyed spending so much time with my parents, I knew it was time for me to leave. If I stayed any longer, it would seem like I was hiding from something.
Or someone.
Mom was already hot on my trail. She knew my relationship with Bones wasn’t something that could be easily swept under the rug. She didn’t ask any more questions about it or make any more comments, but that wouldn’t last forever.
She would bring it up again.
My father knew I had been on a date with someone that night, but he never mentioned it to me.
Thankfully.
I could talk to my mother about boys because we’d always had an open relationship. She acknowledged I was a woman when I turned eighteen. My father had never been that way. I couldn’t take a boy to a school dance unless my father drove us, chaperoned the dance, and then drove us back.
I didn’t mind his protectiveness because I knew he was just being a good parent. But as I got older, he remained the brooding and terrifying father figure every daughter hated. It wasn’t until I moved away to school that he finally backed off.
So I really didn’t want to talk about my romantic life with him.
Unless it was introducing him to the man I would marry.
Bones wasn’t that man. And if he were, that would be an even bigger problem.
So my father would never ask about the man I was having dinner with. The less he knew, the better. He would live longer for it.
And if he knew what was really going on…I didn’t even want to imagine.
I said goodbye to them next to my car, letting them both hold me for a long time. Mom was always sad when I left, and I could feel it in the way she squeezed me. Her hand stroked my hair, and she kissed my temple. “Come back soon.”
“I will. I need to make more paintings to sell since they did so well.”
Mom pulled away and smiled. “At this rate, you’ll have your own gallery very soon.”
I turned to my father next. “Bye, Father.”
He hugged me tighter than my mother, both of his arms circling around my back as he rested his chin on my head. He held me that way for a long time, his hand rubbing my back. “Tesoro…call me if you need anything.”
“I know, Daddy.”
He kissed my forehead. “I love you more than anything.”
“I know that too…”
He finally released me, an emotional look in his eyes. My father was always proud and stern around anyone who wasn’t family, but when it was just us, he was vulnerable and affectionate. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and he loved me so fearlessly. It was something he only showed to other Barsettis.
“And I love you.”
He opened the driver’s side door. “Drive safe, alright?”
“Okay.” I gave them a quick wave before I got into the car. I pulled out of the roundabout and watched them stand in the rearview mirror as I drove away. My father wrapped his arm around my mother’s waist and pulled her close to him. They watched me drive away, sadness in both of their eyes.
I got onto the main road and was relieved I couldn’t see them anymore. When I moved to Milan, I craved the freedom and independence. I loved living in a big city. But now that I’d been on my own for a few years, I knew the only place I wanted to be was there in Tuscany. I wanted to live close to my parents so I could see them every day. I wanted to have that closeness I used to have growing up, when all the Barsettis were together. Carter and Conway were both in Milan, but maybe they’d reconsider moving once they settled down.
