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"I'm not good atshouldn't."
She licked her lips, which made him only want to kiss her again.But she took a step back.
"I'm not good at shouldn't, either," she said."But there's too much going on.And this—whatever this is—will only complicate things.You know that, Nick.You just want to make out with me because you don't want to think about your grandfather or anything else.That's it, isn't it?"There was a slightly desperate edge to her voice as if she needed him to agree with her, needed to believe that's all it was.
"That's not the reason," he said quietly."That's not it at all.I kissed you, because I wanted to, and because it felt like you wanted the same thing."
"It wasn't a bad kiss," she admitted."That's kind of the problem."
"I get it.The timing isn't right."
Relief ran through her gaze."It's not.We need to focus.And if we keep kissing, that won't happen."
He gave her a small smile."You're right about that.I have a feeling you could make me lose my mind."
"I have the same feeling about you.So, we'll call this a moment of temporary insanity."
"A really good moment," he said."And if you want to go a little crazy again sometime, I'm open to it.But I won't be the one to initiate it.If you want another kiss, you'll have to ask me for it."
"Then it won't happen," she said firmly.
"I guess we'll see."
ChapterSixteen
Nick was so annoying, Isabella thought, as he left the attic, having gotten the last word.He was also a really good kisser.Although she still wasn't sure how that had happened.One minute they were talking and the next they were kissing, and it had taken all her resolve to take herself out of his arms.
She wasn’t quite certain exactly why she'd stopped, because she'd been as into him as he'd been into her.Maybe that was the reason.She'd felt like she was getting swept away, giving into desire, losing control, and it had scared her.Not because they might have had sex on the attic floor, but because she was feeling too many things for him that went beyond the physical, and that made her nervous.
She'd done the right thing.She'd backed away, and she wasn't going to ask him for another kiss, even though her lips were still tingling from the last one.She knew better than to let a man get her off course.Her mother had shown her numerous times how bad of an idea that was.
Turning her attention to the books, she picked them up and stacked them against the wall.Most were romance or fiction novels, but one with a red leather cover jumped out.It was a journal, and when she opened the first page, the name and the writing made her catch her breath.It was her mother's journal.
A knot of emotion formed in her throat.She didn't need to look at this book.Her mother wasn't involved in anything.This journal wouldn't help her solve the mystery of the paintings.
Or would it?
Her mother knew art.She'd studied Lucinda.She'd gone to the school run by Frederico.She'd been friends with Stefano.Maybe this book was exactly what she needed to read.
She sat down on the ground and leaned against the wall as she turned the page to the first entry.
Her mother's familiar handwriting tugged at her heart.She'd gotten a lot of letters from her mom while she was in jail and was very familiar with the slightly crooked scrawl and the way her mom wrote short sentences that weren't always explicitly clear.Her mom had a mind that loved to jump around from thought to thought, which was probably one reason why she rarely thought things through.
Her gaze ran down the page.The words were in Italian, which made sense since her mother had written it when she was a teenager.But a name jumped out that she immediately recognized: Stefano.
Taking out her phone, she spoke the words into the translation app and then read the English translation.
I might be in love with Stefano.Or maybe I'm in love with him because he's in love with me.He makes me feel so warm, and I like the way he kisses, the way he takes care of me.But when Stefano talks about the future, I just can't see him in mine.I don't want to stay here in this house or this neighborhood or even this country.I want to go to the States, to where my mom was born.I want to go to college there and meet new people, and I can't let Stefano stop me.But he is so sweet.What should I do?
Now she knew Stefano hadn't been lying about being good friends with her mother.It was slightly ironic to read about her mother putting herself first before a boy.That had changed when she'd gotten to the US.
Or maybe it had changed when she'd had a baby, when she'd been more desperate to have someone care for her.
Flipping through the pages, she searched for other familiar names, not wanting to take the time to translate every page.And then she found one—Lucinda.
Her heart sped up.She spoke the words in one very long paragraph and then hit translate.It came back a moment later.
I'm not as good an artist as Lucinda.My art teacher says I should find my own voice and not worry about being able to paint like someone else, but my art just falls flat.And my grades are terrible.I told Jeff I needed to stay in tonight and paint for extra credit, and he said that was the worst idea.He thinks I should have more fun, experience life, so I'll have something to paint about.I just need to live a little more.And he's so cute.How can I say no?
