Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 107265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
My desire for knowledge is all-encompassing. I want to gather information like one would do before a test. I send a text message to Julia, telling her where we will be, when we will be there, and asking her if she will join us. My phone vibrates in my hands.
Julia: Wow. You’re alive.
Me: Sorry I’ve been MIA.
Julia: MIA? More like dead. You better have a good excuse for why you have dropped off the face of the planet. I was worried SICK about you.
Me: I do. Promise.
Julia: And . . . ?
Me: I’ll explain when I see you.
Julia: When/where? Talk to me.
As soon as I put my phone back into my bag, I stop short.
“What’s wrong?”
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
“What?”
“I just realized I haven’t spoken to Jules in so long. Even after I got my phone back, I didn’t call her, I didn’t know what to say so I avoided her. Now I realize how bad an idea that was. I haven’t spoken to Julia since the night at the club. She doesn’t know anything. For all she knows, I was buried in a shallow ditch, because I didn’t talk to her.”
“Are you worried how she’ll react to the news of your marriage?”
I give him a look that says are you fucking kidding me. “Yes, Matteo.” My arms start to move dramatically in an animated fashion. “Of course, I’m worried. I got married without my best friend. She’s more than my best friend. She is the closest thing to family I have. And I have two parents who are alive.” Matteo steps up to me and takes my frantic hands in his. My eyes go wide as he lifts them up to his mouth and places a soft kiss on top of each.
“Talk to me.”
I don’t know what to tell him. On the one hand, I want to tell him all about my past. All about how important Julia is to me. About her mother. But until I know if I can trust him, I need to be careful with my words. Too much is at stake.
“Her mother was my nanny. Since my family . . .” I bite my lip, nibbling it for a second as I remember all the memories that flood me. “My family was never around. My mother was too busy being a socialite, Julia and her family were my only family. At least for the first ten years of my life. I can’t lose her.”
“She will understand.”
“Will she?”
“Yes. You say she’s family. Tell her a version of the truth. She knows your life is not exactly ordinary.”
“And what exactly is that?”
“That your father wanted to marry you off to a horrible man, and I was your savior.” The right side of his lip curls up into a smirk.
“Do you think you’re funny?”
“No one has ever accused me of being that. But yes, I think I am.”
I give a little chuckle. “Believe what you want. Now, let’s get going.”
The walk to the coffee shop takes us about ten minutes. It’s not far, and since the weather isn’t too cold, it feels nice. Just as I suspected, it’s a small, cozy café. From the Italian word on the banner, I have a feeling when we walk inside, Matteo will know the owner.
As the bell jingles, I am almost immediately correct. Matteo doesn’t even need to take one step inside before a man, who looks to be a little older than Matteo, walks up to us. Again, they speak to each other in Italian. And again, I curse the fact I never learned. He introduces me as his wife. This time when he does, it feels as though swarms of butterflies start to dance in my belly.
My cheeks warm, and I’m sure that I’m blushing, which is stupid because I shouldn’t feel this way. It wasn’t long ago that I hated him, and in a matter of one week, he’s basically turned my body into a traitor.
Once the introductions are made, we sit down at the table.
It’s not a minute later that the same man, who he introduced to me as the owner of the small café, comes back to the table. This time, he places a white envelope on top of the linens. Matteo takes the envelope without checking what’s in it and places it in his pocket. The man says nothing more and just turns and walks away, leaving me still staring at the place on the table where the envelope just sat.
“What was that?”
“Nothing to concern yourself with.”
I want to say bullshit. I want to demand he tells me. For so many years, I was left in the dark. All the time I lived under my father’s roof I was treated like a child, not able to make her own decisions. The thing is, as much as I want to ask him at the same time, I’m not sure I want to know.