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I avert my eyes and they land on a sports jersey hanging inside a glass casing. There’s a number 11 on it and a signature. I had no idea Carlo was even into sports. He never really talks about himself. Something that really needs to change.
Unwittingly, my gaze drifts back to the wooden box. I close my eyes and sigh softly.
Fuck it.
I grab it and, after a moment’s hesitation, open it to see what’s inside. I gasp as soon as I do so, shutting the box and quickly returning it. After, I wrap my arms around my waist, trying to find some comfort and understand what I saw.
I can’t talk to Carlo about it. He’ll go ballistic. I need to keep it to myself, at least until he tells me and helps me understand what I saw.
He arrives with Khalil half an hour later, laughing as the two of them walk through the doors. Carlo’s eyes find mine immediately. He offers me a dreamy smile and I practically melt. I love how far we’ve come. His smiles used to be few and far between but now it takes barely any effort at all to draw one from him.
“Hey, baby,” he greets, leaning down to kiss me softly on the lips. Khalil lets out a series of coughs and Carlo rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Larsen. How was your day?” he asks me.
“It was fine,” I tell him.
He looks back at Khalil, who gives him an expectant look, before speaking to me. “We’re just going to have a quick conversation in my study.”
“No problem. I was going to work on some research.”
He and his friend leave the living room. They return a short time later and we order some Chinese food for dinner. I spend the time getting to know Khalil, who’s pretty beguiling, albeit mischievous. He has the aura of a person used to the shadows. Just like Carlo, but Khalil seems more intentional about it.
Later that night, we’re lying in bed, and I know I resolved not to bring it up, but I have a problem. When something is bothering me or when there’s something on my mind, I simply have to talk it out. No matter how hard I try, I just have to get it off my chest.
Carlo casts me a look. “Whatever you have to say, spit it out,dolcezza.”
I sigh softly. My thoughts must be written plainly across my face.
“Okay, fine. Don’t get mad…” I start.
“I’ll try not to,” he replies.
Fuck.
“Okay, so I was bored earlier and I ended up at the glass case in the living room. I might have snooped a little and ended up looking at the box.”
Carlo’s expression darkens slightly. “What box?”
I’m sure he knows exactly I’m talking about, but he’s going to make me say it.
“The wooden box. The one you said was your dad’s.”
“The box I specifically told you not to touch,” he says, his voice dangerously low.
“I know you did, and I’m sorry. I was just curious.”
“You opened it.”
“Yes, I did.”
Carlo doesn’t say a word. He climbs out of bed, heading for his closet. I jump off the bed as well. He’s already putting on a shirt and pants. I stand my ground in front of him.
“No! Yell at me if you’re angry, but you’re not leaving.”
“Astoria,” he says through gritted teeth.
“I said no. If this relationship is going to work, you’re going to say exactly what’s on your mind. Say it!”
He looks at me, dark eyes bright with anger. “What do you want me to fucking say? You saw it, didn’t you? You saw what was in there.”
