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“I have to go to the shop.” He pulls his car keys out of his pocket. “What time are the police coming?” I’d forgotten about the window.
“They said morning. I’ll wait for them. I have no plans.”
“Do you want me to stay until they have been?”
“No, no, it’s fine. You have done enough.” I want him gone. I can’t stand him here, thinking he might have been with somebody else. I scold myself for thinking like this. We have not done anything. Gianni hasn’t laid a finger on me, and I’m acting like some jealous girlfriend. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I put it down to Cora. She’s the one who did the damage here.
“I’ll be off then.” He walks out of the kitchen, and I follow. My feet drag. We reach the front door. I want him gone, but I’m reluctant to open it.
The door opens, and the sunlight pours through. He skims past me. His suit must be doused in his fragrance because it fills my nose and my head. I want to put my hand against my nose to mask myself from his smell. He’s intoxicating, a lethal substance that shouldn’t be inhaled. He’s out of the door and onto the driveway, and I’m about to close the door when he turns. He’s expectant, as if I’m supposed to say something.
“Thanks for staying,” I say. It feels a little desperate. I want to remind him this was his idea. This was nothing to do with me, and now we have to hide it from the staff as if we’ve done something illicit.
I’ve not done anything wrong. I tell myself this day after day. Cora would disagree, as I’m sure Carl would. I’m not completely convinced of my innocence, but even so, I must maintain an element of sanity. Otherwise, I wouldn’t even bother to get out of bed in the morning.
He nods in my direction before heading to his car. I quickly close the door. I don’t want to seem like some housebound wife who is waving her husband off before a long day in the office. This whole thing has taken a turn for the bizarre, but I can’t put my finger on why it all feels so strange. The fact he stayed all night is bothering me. I know what doesn’t sit well, and I don’t want to admit it because it seems a trite clichéd, but I want to know why a man would spend the night with someone and not try to sleep with them.
I’m being vain and stereotypical, lumping all men in the category of only being out for one thing, but even so, I can’t get this doubt to settle. He obviously thinks enough about me not to want to leave me in the house alone. And what about getting rid of me? Is it still on the agenda? I don’t feel like it is, but I could be wrong. This whole thing could still be part of a bigger plan.
ChapterEleven
It’s been a few days since the break-in, and Frank and I have been vigilant, but Frank left the house yesterday for a job.
“It’s a job for a travel company. I’m flying out to France, then onto Spain and possibly Greece. I could be away for a few months,” he told me with a worried face. “Will you be okay here all by yourself?”
“Sure, I will.” I smiled. I didn’t want Frank to put his career on hold to babysit his little sister.
“Are you sure?” He pushed.
“Of course, I’ll be fine. I’m a grown woman and perfectly capable of staying in the house by myself.”
“It’s just after the window and everything… you’ve seemed a little jumpy.”
“I’m fine, honestly. You need to stop worrying. You sound like Mom and Dad.” I batted him on the arm like we used to do as kids.
Frank’s departure has left me alone with my thoughts of Gianni.
I arrive for the early shift with no apron and no lipstick on. I’m running a little late, and my breakfast only consisted of two slices of seeded bread I ate in the car on the way here. I finished them between red lights and roadwork, but the evidence is now stuck to my pants. I brush the crumbs off as I clamber out of the car, aware I must look like a walking bird feeder. I make my way across the parking lot, eyeing the birds in the nearby tree with trepidation.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Gianni’s car in the parking lot.
I’ve not seen Gianni for several days. His presence in the shop has been nonexistent, and I’ve had a couple of days off.
I’m not entirely sure how I feel about seeing Gianni again. I’ve been dreading it and craving it—a mixture of the two combined make for an explosive result.
A thick gray cloud hovers above me, a sign of things to come. Will he act differently toward me? As if in reply, a drizzle starts, coating my face in a fine mist.
He’s haunted me these last few days, never straying from my head for too long. I’ve pondered over the what-if scenarios, making myself dizzy with possibilities. I’ve run miles to keep him at bay, but when I return, thick with sweat and exhaustion, he’s still there. Even in his absence, I’ve felt the pull of him like an unrequited obsession.
I reach the entrance and am about to open the door when I see him inside the shop. He’s standing center stage, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other massaging his temple. He seems as if he’s in pain. He is staring at the walls. No, he’s staring at my paintings. He is motionless, a sculpture of himself. What is he thinking? He’d never really answered me when I asked him about buying these pictures, and he’d not commented on the work he’d seen at my parents’ house, but Piero said he loved the paintings. So why the distressed look?
I paste a cheery smile on my face and brace myself for the awkwardness, but as I go to open the door, footsteps sound behind me.
Lewis strides up next to me, the gait in his walk making him appear lame. I can’t help noticing the crumple of his uniform and the stain on his pants. He’s never mentioned a wife, yet he wears a wedding band. How had he gotten here? Had he come on the bus or the train, or had he got a lift with someone? I know very little about Lewis, and I wonder if this is intentional.
“Hey,” I greet him as he arrives next to me, following my gaze to the figure inside.
“God, I was hoping he wouldn’t come in today.” He lowers his head, scuffing at the gravel with his black shoes.
