Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
When I’d checked his phone, his messages had been clean. So was his search history. But his watch stored messages on its own. If he didn’t manually delete them from the device, they would still be there.
His watch had a passcode, unlike his phone, and I knew it after watching him enter it enough times, so I was in.
The top message was from Luna—his boss. Nothing suspicious there. I scrolled through the other message boxes to see if there were any names I didn’t recognize. It was just his parents and his friends.
A new message popped up from Luna. Where are you?
An odd message from a superior . . .
Lost my watch. I’ll leave in 5 mins.
K. She sent a bunch of heart emojis.
Okay, that was definitely weird. I scrolled back through their messages and realized there were so many. Far too many for a boss and her subordinate. When I’d checked his phone in the past, there had only been one or two messages from her, not a hoard of conversations like this.
I scrolled back to a few days ago, the day Enzo had left me at the hotel.
She blew up his phone with a ton of messages in a row.
Enzo, when are you leaving?
Don’t ignore me.
Call me.
Why won’t you fucking call me?
There were a ton of messages like that, trying to get his attention when he was with me. Without actual confirmation of what I expected, I still already knew what I would find. Knew it in my heart, soul, and bones.
Enzo finally wrote back. I can’t leave right now.
Why the fuck not? You should have done this a long time ago.
It’s complicated.
Well, Joe found out about us, so our lives just got more complicated.
Joe? Us?
She continued. I just left my husband and my two kids, and you can’t ditch your girlfriend???
Oh Jesus.
What happened?
He packed his shit and left. Said he wants a divorce. Not how I wanted things to end, but at least it’s done.
Are you okay?
I will be when you come home. I’m glad this is over. I’m glad the lie is done. I’m glad we can finally live our lives together.
I couldn’t believe this. Right underneath my nose this entire time. The last time I’d seen her was at their company Christmas party. She hugged me . . . fucking smiled at me—all the while fucking my boyfriend.
I’ll handle it and get on the next flight.
Handle it . . . handle me. I was something to be handled. And when I sat there at dinner and asked if there was someone else, he continued to lie. Now I understood why. It was probably because he wanted to protect Luna from getting fired. If I exposed their relationship, she would absolutely lose her job. Enzo too, but her position was more important because she made a lot more money than he did.
I could scroll farther back and read the details of their affair, but what was the point? I took a deep breath and suppressed the tears that wanted to fall. With sheer will, I defeated the urge. I made sure my ducts remained dry.
Because I wouldn’t cry over this.
Over my dead fucking body.
“Well, at least I don’t feel guilty anymore.” I tossed the watch aside, then stared at my phone. I considered calling Enzo and airing my grievances, but he wouldn’t care. He didn’t care that he’d hurt me. If he’d cared about me at all, none of this would have happened in the first place.
But I’d never been one to take the high road. Never been one to remain cool and collected. I always liked to get in the last word if I could snatch it. So I typed a message to him, short and simple, something to make his heart drop into his stomach.
Wish you and Luna the best.
PS: You forgot to delete the messages on your watch.
PPS:
Chapter 6
Constantine
I texted her and told her to meet me at the fountain in Piazza Duomo. It was a circular fountain with four small horses as guardians. Only one of the horses worked as a fountain of fresh water. The rest had lost their ability through the ages. It was directly across from Duomo di Taormina, an ancient church that was still in use today.
I sat on the steps of the fountain in jeans, a short-sleeved shirt, and with sunglasses on the bridge of my nose. It was late May, a quiet time before the tourists flooded the area for summer, and the weather was already warm.
I noticed her when she entered the square, wearing a long sundress with platform sandals and a sun hat—perfectly dressed for a holiday. She had dark hair the color of cocoa, natural full lips that I was always a sucker for, and green eyes that were bright rather than hazel. I’d noticed them the first time I saw her outside my family’s restaurant.