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She bit her bottom lip. What was she doing? Was she crazy?
She grabbed her bag and pulled the door closed behind her. “Let’s go.”
The route was familiar. It didn’t take her long to realize where they were going. For a few minutes she had a mild panic. Were they returning to the home in the Hamptons because Matteo’s family were unhappy with her work? Surely, if they were unhappy they wouldn’t have paid her?
She took a deep breath and settled back against the comfortable leather seat. New York City disappeared behind them making way to the cute streets of the villages and to the wide open spaces of the Hamptons.
By the time they turned into the driveway of the house her stomach was churning.
Carlo pulled up outside and opened the door for her. She waited a few seconds, sucking in a few steadying breaths before she grabbed her bag and stepped out.
She hated it. The way she loved this place. The way just being here made her skin tingle. She knew this place was blackened and tinged with bad memories for Matteo, and maybe now she should have a few bad memories herself. But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. Every part of her loved this place. Every room. Every piece of furniture. Every scent. And every thought.
Because most of them were filled with Matteo.
She tried to clear her head. She tried to focus. Flowers, coffee and donuts were not an apology. Not in this lifetime.
She might have decided she was ready to move on. But she would ultimately decide when, and with whom.
Her heels clicked across the marble floor, the steps echoing up the spiral staircase she loved so much. She stopped.
There was a different kind of scent in the house. A mixture of lemon and fresh linen with a hint of something else. Was it lavender?
“Hello?” she shouted. There was no response, so she started to walk. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know this place.
Flowers. That was the extra scent. Flowers in every room. A different display, sometimes shades of white, yellow and pale blue to match the surroundings. Sometimes something completely different to add a splash of color. As she walked through to the back sitting room, a tall vase of orange gerberas adorned every table.
She walked over and touched one of the petals. Bright orange and green. It was an interesting combination.
There were footsteps behind her. She turned around as Matteo walked in, holding a tray with coffee and a china plate filled with desserts. He gave her a tentative smile. “I visited our favorite bakery and bought you one of everything.”
She didn’t respond. Just watched as he walked over and slid the tray onto one of the tables.
She was tempted. Tempted by the smells. Tempted by the sight of him again after a month. That strong jaw, his floppy hair and broad shoulders. But she wouldn’t waver.
“What is this, Matteo? What do you want?”
It was the first time in her life she’d seen him look a little uncertain.
“I want to talk,” he said quietly.
She moved across the floor quickly. “Is something wrong with the house? With my work?”
He shook his head. A familiar furrow creased his brow. “Why would you think that?”
She glanced around. “The house—it’s been a month. Why hasn’t it sold yet? I know it’s the wrong time of year. But a place like this? I expected it to be snapped up in a second.”
Matteo licked his lips and nodded. “I’ve had three offers.”
Now it was her turn to wrinkle her brow. “And they didn’t offer enough?”
He shook his head and glanced out the window at Mecox Bay. “They offered more than enough. We... I mean... I decided I didn’t want to sell.”
“You don’t?” She couldn’t hide the surprise from her voice.
She moved over beside Matteo and hesitated for only a second before sitting down.
He turned to face her. “You made me think about things. You made me think differently—” he held up his hands “—about this place.”
She shifted on the seat. “What do you mean?”
He sighed and looked around. “You didn’t have the same cloud hanging over your head when it came to this place. You saw it through different eyes, and you helped me see it through different eyes too.”
Her heart rate started to quicken. “But you have reasons for how you feel. I don’t want you to hang onto something that you’ll always associate with something bad from your childhood. You need to move on. You need to let go.”
“Like you did?”
It was like a dozen little caterpillars crawling gently up her spine. “What do you mean?”
He reached for her hand. “You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met, Phoebe. And the one with the biggest heart. I’m sorry I left you in Rome. I’m sorry I left you to travel home alone.”
