Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 25827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Ti amo.
I have no choice.
I love her and that's why I had to do this.
IT'S RAINING.
I'm at the window of my apartment, and outside the window is the lake, and on the lake is the rain, and in my hand is a stack of paper I have been holding too long.
The papers are signed.
I signed them an hour ago. I signed them Nicolo Sestini on every line where it was required, and I signed them with a hand that did not shake, and I set the pen down, and I have been standing at this window since.
The rain is loud against the glass.
The papers are quiet in my hand.
Ti amo, Ti amo, Ti amo.
The phone rings.
I let it ring twice. Long enough to know who it is. Short enough that he doesn't have to wonder whether I knew.
“Sì.”
“Signore.” Rollo's voice is the voice he uses when he has bad news to deliver to a man he respects. “I—”
“There's no need to choose your words, Rollo. I have never had any delicate sensibilities you need to take care of.”
“Signore—”
“Will she be happy with him?”
Chapter Ten
IT'S FINE. I'M GOOD. Everything's good.
I tell myself this as I slip back into my chair across from Elliot, smooth the napkin onto my lap, and apologize for being away.
“Took the scenic route?” Elliot says with a grin.
“Sorry. Long line.”
“Mm-hmm.”
It's fine. I'm good. Everything's good.
It's important that I keep telling myself this, because that means I'm not lying to myself. And to be fair to Elliot, he really is a charming guy, and he's funny, too. I don't have to fake anything. He really does make me laugh.
Or at least he does, on the surface.
But inside, I'm just reeling. Ever since I walked away from Rollo like a coward, it just feels like I've fallen off some mental cliff and I haven't stopped falling since.
Do you really mean it, signora, when you say you believe you'll be happy with him again?
I didn't have an answer for him then.
I still don't have one now.
All I know is that I just...I just can't seem to stop falling, and I don't even know if I'll ever reach the bottom.
Guilt eats me alive as dinner comes to an end.
“I'm so sorry,” I tell him as the waiter clears our plates. “I know this is the worst date ever—”
“You didn't bail out on me though.” He winks. “So I still have hope.”
All I can do is smile weakly.
Juniper, you're such a coward.
We get back to his car, and I feel guiltier still for being grateful that he doesn't try to make small talk on the drive home. I look out my window as downtown Chicago in the evening rolls by, blurred at the edges.
It's fine. I'm good. Everything's good.
We reach my apartment building, and Elliot insists on walking me up to my floor. I warn him about the no-elevator part, but he says—
“It's fine.”
Heads turn our way at every flight of stairs. Doors open and close. A few of my neighbors even take photos of us shamelessly, and on the third-floor landing the woman from 3B doesn't even pretend to be holding her phone up casually. She just points it at us like she's documenting wildlife.
“Are they always like this?” Elliot asks under his breath as we climb past her. “I feel like half of them are just a 911 call away from having me arrested while the other half looks at me like I'm a walking scandal that's about to have his own Netflix doc.”
I just smile weakly again.
I don't think it's going to help to tell him he's right. Nicolo did say he handpicked every tenant here, and I have no doubt by now that they've got some kind of reward system going on for every photo and every piece of intel about Elliot they send his way.
We finally reach my apartment.
“So...” I say.
“If you're going to tell me this is our last date, could we not do it in the hallway?”
“Oh, um, sure—”
Elliot groans. “So you are dumping me!”
“I'm so s-sorry—” I'm flustered and stammering at how quickly things escalated. “I didn't—”
A rakish grin replaces the hurt look on his face. “I was kidding.”
Seriously?
I'm torn between anger, amusement, and exasperation as I unlock the door and let him in, and on the way through I catch a glimpse of two of my fourth-floor neighbors taking photos of me as I close the door behind us.
Nicolo must be paying them really, really well for everyone to be so dedicated. Some people would probably think that's criminally romantic, and I probably would too...if I believed he had any feelings for me.
“Juniper.”
Elliot's gentle voice draws me out of my thoughts, and I quickly wipe my eyes dry when I realize I've been crying.
I haven't cried about him in years.
“S-Sorry...”
I turn to face him as I say it.