“I can’t,” he says, pulling his hand back. “Your children will see me, and I have a flight to catch in the morning.”
The warmth of our time becomes a chill when he says the words your children. Regardless, I won’t back down, and I won’t do it in a way he will view me as weak and emotionally driven.
I am not weak.
“Franco, you look exhausted. Sleep. I’ll wake the girls. Our girls go to school in the morning. After they leave, we can work on a way to keep you here.” When he says nothing, I get into bed. “Come, Franco.”
He looks at me, the bed, and me again.
“Valentina …” he begins.
“Please.”
He lies down beside me on his back, and I swallow back the feeling of being tossed aside.
I get up and walk to the door, locking it so the girls can’t bust in and jump on the bed like monkeys if I oversleep. Then I shut and lock the balcony door before arming the security system.
Climbing on the bed, I look at the app on my phone that shows me every room in our home. The last room is theirs. I see them lying in bed, sleeping peacefully, before putting the phone on the charging pad beside my bed. I lie down and up against him.
“Can you sleep like this?”
“I can try,” he says, still stiff and unmoving.
I lay my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat and allowing it to lull me to sleep.
When I awaken, he is gone.
I take my phone and call Vincent immediately.
“Where is he?”
“Good morning, Miss Segretti.”
“Vincent, don’t toy with me. Answer the question.”
“Miss Segretti …” he sighs out.
“Do you enjoy your employment?” I snarl.
“Do you enjoy feeling safe, Valentina?” It’s Franco.
“Why did you leave without a word?” I ask in an eerie calm that even I don’t recognize.
“I made a choice years ago—”
“You made a choice to come here last night, as well,” I cut him off.
“And unfortunately, I allowed myself to be weak.”
“You—”
“I am going to board a plan to Italy, because that is where I was born. I am to meet with the Italian polizia to be interviewed, because that is a condition of returning to Italy. There are no guarantees that I will not be hunted down and punished for taking his life.”
“Which is why we need to talk to a lawyer, Franco. Why we—”
“There is no we, Valentina. As I said, years ago—”
“Your children,” I say, on the verge of tears.
“You and your daughters are much safer without me. Again, as I said years ago—”
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare do this to me, or to them, or to yourself, Franco.”
“I’ve lived in purgatory for years. It’s time to come face to face with—”
“Vincent!” I yell.
“Do not look for me,” Franco cuts me off.
“Do you care nothing for—”
“For all those years, I had one regret, Valentina. I will not make that mistake again. This conversation will not be tangled in lies. I died nine years ago. Move on with your life. Continue—”
Something snaps inside me.
“I will look for you, I will find you, and I will make your life a living hell.”
When the phone disconnects, I wait for tears to fall, but they don’t. Not one.
I get out of bed and pull the duvet and the sheets off it to be laundered. Then I walk to the door and unlock it in case my beauties come in while I am showering.
After I am showered, I dress in comfortable attire and stand for a moment, looking at the outfit inside my closet that was chosen for this day—Franco’s homecoming.
The knee-length, sleeveless, lead gray, silk dress now taunts me.
I then look down at the black Armani stilettos made of goatskin. I fell in love with the braided laces that added a sexy, feminine look.
I take the dress off the hanger and drape it over my arm. I contemplate grabbing the heels, as well, but I decide against it.
Disarming the alarm, I walk out onto the balcony where I throw the Armani over the edge and watch it float in the breeze and land in the ocean before walking back inside.
I look back to my walk-in closet, trying to convince myself to get rid of the heels, as well. I quickly decide against it. No man is worth never walking a day in those heels.
The girls are happy that I make pancakes without prompt this morning. I go through our normal routine without skewed emotions.
After dropping them off at school, I head to the yoga studio, as I always do, needing to keep the routine for me now.
When I walk inside, Mel, Nikki, and Paige are there. All their smiles fall as they look at me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You tell us,” Paige says as she walks toward me and hugs me.
I find comfort in her hug, true comfort from a true friend, each and every one of them.
When I tell them what happened, Nikki is the first to say she is sorry, yet she thinks what he is doing is admirable.
She’s entitled to her opinion, so I don’t argue, regardless of how much I want to.
When Mel hugs me again, she whispers in my ear, “I’m here for you.”
I knew she would be.
Paige is a different story. Having just gone through her fourth heartbreak in a year’s time, she tells me, “I’ll help cut his nuts off.”
I am not allowed to go home. They juggle their schedules so that one of them is always with me until it’s time to pick up my girls.
When Mel and I are alone, I ask her to please let Sabato know I may need his help.
Outside from the obvious hurt, I am sick with fear that I may never see him again.
What they do not know is that I’m terrified for the safety of amio amante.
Capitolo Sette
Franco
It should not have felt good to deny Vincent his request to join me, but it does.
Vincent is in love with her. Not only is he in love with her, he’s in love with her—yes, her—children. So, yes, I hope she gives him the hell she gave me during all those years. Without feeling her wrath, he doesn’t deserve her warmth.
It should not feel freeing to be heading toward my inevitable death, but it does.
The closer I come to my death, the sooner the pain of hurting her and the pain of losing her to another will end.
When I asked Vincent if he loved her, he did not lie to me. He asked me how it was that I could leave her again. He told me she had waited for me. He told me I was a fool.
When he left me at the hotel, I had no intention of going back, no intention of making sure her and those girls were in a safe home, surrounded by people who wished her no harm. When I spotted him on his night off doing the same, I couldn’t stay away from her. It was selfish.
It should not feel good to have left her again, but I did it without lies.
When I saw the hope in her eyes, I forced myself to enjoy giving her the pleasure she deserved. And yes, I enjoyed what she gave me, but I didn’t fuck her. Lying in bed with her, not fucking her, she knew, or at the very least, suspected I was leaving. No lie was told.
It should break my heart to know that I still love her, more so now, but it doesn’t.