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But even as I say it, I’m not sure I mean it. Just last night, I’d missed having Luca in bed beside me. I’d felt lonely, even though being back in my own room was exactly what I’d wanted.
“We fight all the time, almost every time we try to talk. If there are feelings, it’s just lust. I know that’s all it is.”
“What about the morning after the attack on the hotel?” Ana asks suddenly. “You didn’t know if he was okay, right? So how did you feel about that?”
I felt relieved that he wasn’t dead. And confused about why he tried to save me.But I don’t want to say that out loud. I don’t want to admit that some part of me might want this husband that was forced on me, that I might actually want to try to make this work. That our conversation the night before last gave me a small window into what it could look like if we had a real marriage—and it wasn’t terrible.
I keep getting these slight glimpses into what my life could be—the way my friendship with Caterina would grow, the way Luca and I could make the best of this situation.
But this was never meant to be a real marriage. There will always be things stopping us—the fact that we can’t ever have children, the first night we spent together, the women that I’m sure will always chase Luca, and the knowledge of the kind of man he is when he’s not home with me, the things he does for his job. Things that I’ll benefit from because I live in this house and spend his money. I can’t believe that he’ll ever be faithful or that he’ll ever be anything other than what he is now—a cold and brutal man who has flickers of warmth at unexpected times.
“I didn’t care,” I say flatly, putting as much effort as I can into making it sound as if that’s true. “The only thing I was worried about is what would happen to me if he’d died.”
Iknow, for a fact, as the words come out of my mouth that it’s not true.
And looking at Caterina and Ana’s faces, I don’t think they believe me either.
