He was staring at the ground. “No, no. It’s okay. I just don’t think that the timing’s the best, you know?”
TIMING. My face went up in flames. Not only had he just had to peel me off of him, but he was being nice about it. Lina, fix this. Words started pouring out of my mouth.
“You’re right. You’re totally right. I think I just got carried away after what happened in there—it was really emotional, and I think I just redirected and . . .” I squeezed my eyes shut. “We’re just friends. I know that. And I’ve never, ever, ever thought of you as anything more.”
Does it count as a lie if you’re denying something you’ve only fully admitted to yourself for about a minute? Also: One too many “evers” there. But I was going for believable.
Ren’s gaze shot up, meeting mine with literally the most unreadable expression on the planet. And then he was gone again. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
Why, why, why did I do that? I slumped against my door of the taxi. Ren was sitting as far away from me as was physically possible, and he was staring out the window like he was trying to memorize the streets or something.
Couldn’t I have a repeat? Go back twenty minutes to when I hadn’t already lost my head and kissed my best friend who had a girlfriend and clearly didn’t want me? Back before I’d noticed how much I loved his shaggy hair and sense of humor or the fact that even though I’d known him for less than a week I somehow felt comfortable sharing all my crazy history with him?
Oh my gosh. I was so in love it hurt.
I pressed my fingers into my chest. You’ve known him like five days. There’s no way you can be in love with him. Totally rational.
Totally not true.
Of course I was in love with Ren. He was exactly himself, and I was exactly myself when I was with him. And all of that would be perfect if he felt even close to the same. But he didn’t. I glanced over at him, and a flash of pain moved through me. Was he even going to talk to me again?
The cabdriver was eyeing us in his rearview mirror. “Tutto bene?”
“Si,” Ren answered.
Finally the driver swerved to pull up to the train station and Ren handed him a wad of cash, then practically jumped out of the cab, me following miserably after him.
We still had to get back to Florence. A whole train ride, and then the scooter ride, and then . . . Oh, no. After that I’d be back in the cemetery. With Howard. I couldn’t let myself think ahead that far. It made me feel like I was going to hyperventilate.
Ren slowed down for a second so I could catch up. “Our train leaves in forty-five minutes.”
Forty-five minutes. Aka forever. “Do you want to sit down?”
He shook his head. “I’m going to go get something to eat.” Alone.
He didn’t say it, but I heard it.
I nodded numbly, then walked over to a nearby bank of chairs, falling down in one of the seats. What was wrong with me? For one thing, you don’t sob all over someone and then immediately try to kiss them. For another, you don’t kiss someone who has a girlfriend. A gorgeous one. Even if you thought he might be into you.
Had I completely misread him? Had he really been spending all this time with me because he was just a good friend? What about all the times he’d held my hand or told me he liked me because I was different? Didn’t that mean something?
And what about Matteo? My father was literally the worst person I’d ever met. I had no doubts my mom had kept me away from him on purpose, so why had she sent me all the clues I needed to find him?
I needed a distraction. I pulled the journal out of my purse, but when I opened it, the words wriggled across the page like bugs. There was no way I’d be able to concentrate. Not when things felt like this.
Ten excruciating minutes later Ren walked up carrying a big bottle of water and a plastic sack. He handed them both to me. “Sandwich. It’s prosciutto.”
“What’s that?”
“Thinly sliced ham. You’ll love it.” He sat down next to me and I unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. Of course I loved it. But it was nothing compared to how I felt about Ren.
And yes. I’d totally just compared the only guy I’d ever felt this way about to a ham sandwich.
Ren reclined back in his chair, stretching his legs in front of him and crossing his arms over his chest. I tried to catch his eye, but he just kept staring at his feet.
Finally I exhaled. “Ren, I don’t know what to say. I’m really sorry I put you in that situation. It wasn’t fair.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I mean, I know you have a girlfriend and—”
“Lina, really. Don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”
But it definitely didn’t feel okay, and there was maybe a cyclone right in the center of my chest. I leaned back in my chair too and closed my eyes, sending him telepathic messages. Sorry I dragged you to Rome. Sorry I kissed you. Sorry I messed this up.