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“Yes! Are you doing it at Mama and Papa’s like I did?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
I open my laptop, the one thing Gio doesn’t have to track.
“Let’s get this started,” Ana says as I hear her laptop power on.
33NINA
Enzo lifts himself off the couch as Giovanni walks in. I have been scrolling through so many websites trying to piece together the wedding that the day slipped right past me.
Enzo never tried to make conversation. I only came back out into the living room because I felt bad for leaving him alone. I always let myself feel guilty for other people. I don’t know why.
Their deep voices merge together in whispers. I don’t know why they are speaking quietly—it’s not like I understand their language anyway.
Speaking of which, I should really learn Italian. I think it could help.
They shake hands as Gio walks him out.
The air in the room tightens as Gio walks toward me with a stride that means business.
“How was your day?” He sits down on the couch, casually asking me what I did with my day as if I haven’t been trapped here like a Disney princess.
“Where were you?”
“How was your day?” His jaw tightens as he repeats his question to avoid mine.
My blinks turn long as I stare at him, and he stares back. The game we have always played just doesn’t seem to end.
I stand up from the couch, looking down at the man who is supposed to tell me everything. “We are off to a great start.” Anger boils my blood as I walk out of the room. I don’t want to know the details of what he does; I just don’t like these secrets.
I want to know where he is, and who he is with.
* * *
I put on one of his shirts. His smell is all over me now. His shampoo and conditioner, and his shirt. Fresh laundry, teakwood, and mint clinging to my skin. I want to curl up in his smell.
I open the door to my bedroom and walk out into the hallway. Giovanni has a movie playing silently in the background.
He’s changed out of his suit; he is only wearing gray sweatpants now. The way he looks at his laptop so intently makes the corner of my mouth lift.
He is sohandsome.
I look down at myself, his shirt almost a dress on me.
He doesn’t know I am standing here just watching him. Normally, it’s the opposite way around. His hand runs over his jawline, his veins making his tattoos pop out.
He has so many of them. His entire skin is covered in ink. Detailed. And then there are the scribbles I inked on his collarbone.
I take in a deep breath. I want to make this work between us, but I want answers. I need them.
“Gio,” I say softly, the sound of my own voice scaring me. I didn’t expect to want to talk to him again tonight.
He looks up from his laptop, eyes refocusing on me.
“I’m sorry.” I swallow, somehow wanting to push past everything that has happened.
He tilts his head, telling me to come to him.
