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Jack reached his arm across the table to grab the pepper shaker. He shot me an odd look.
Oh, fuck. He absolutely knew.
“Are you feeling alright, Ace?” It was King who asked, a touch of worry coloring his voice. “You haven’t even touched your food.”
“Ludovica and I had sex last night,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. A second later, I winced at how it came out, but it was too late to take it back now. It was better than dragging it out, either way — like ripping the bandaid off in one swift movement.
King blew out a breath, dropping his fork on the plate. “For fuck’s sake, I’m eating here.”
“If you don’t want to hear, go eat in another room,” I told him, then turned to Jack again. “Is that awkward or…”
Jack was frowning, but he always looked like that, so I couldn’t really be sure what he was thinking.
“No? I don’t see why it should be,” he eventually answered, shrugging one of his shoulders. “She’s free to do whatever she likes.”
My own shoulders dropped in relief.
I was aware that I could be careless sometimes — that I didn’t think things through before I did them, as Jack would put it — but the last thing I wanted was to actually hurt him or King.
There was a lull in the conversation, punctuated only by the faint noise of utensils scraping against plates. I spent a considerable amount of time racking my brain, struggling to come up with a new topic to discuss.
“Did you guys know that it’s Blondie’s birthday next week? We should plan something, right?” I eventually said, and King let out a considering hum.
“Is it? Well, we still have a couple of days left. I’m sure that we can think of something by then.”
Jack nodded in agreement and it seemed that the subject of Blondie was dropped for now.
That went a lot better than I thought it would. I couldn’t help but think.
But before I could completely relax, there was still one more thing that I had to do.
I needed to have a talk with Blondie, as well.
Once I finished breakfast, I made a quick detour to the library. However, when I arrived, I saw that she wasn’t in her usual spot at the bay window.
I took a moment to scan my surroundings, the familiar scent of old paper and ink permeating the air, before I let out a sigh. Maybe I should just wait for her to come back from wherever she was.
With nothing better to do, I strode forward until I found myself standing in front of a tall bookshelf, placed in a far-off corner of the library. My fingers traced the sturdy spines ofthe books, skimming down to the middle row, searching, until I found the book that I’d been looking for.
It was an old copy ofSolaris, but the book itself wasn’t the only thing that made this one special.
It was what it held on the inside.
As I opened the book down the middle, something small fluttered out from between the pages.
I caught it before it could reach the floor, and carefully held it in my hands.
I looked at the old photograph — if it could even be called that. In reality, it was just an old cutout from a newspaper with the headline,“Fundraiser to raise funds for Corigliano-Rossano orphanage. “
Underneath the headline was an image attached — a line of children standing in front of a grim-looking building.
A moment frozen in time.
The young, almost unrecognizable faces of Marcello, Virgil, and I stared back at me.
We were standing glued to each other, side by side. Over Marcello’s shoulder, the face of a little girl with blonde pigtails was peeking out at the camera.
For a brief moment, I was transported back to the past. I could almost still feel my bony body shivering from the cutting, cold air and my stomach rumbling loudly in hunger.
