Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
He watches me stoically. “For what?”
“For facing off with your ex-wife who thinks I’m a stripper.”
He crosses his arms. “That won’t happen again.”
“How do you know that?”
“I had a word with Rachele.”
“Is that what you did in the house? You talked?”
“What else would I have done?”
“Kiss her. Fuck her. It’s clear you’re not over her.”
He reaches out so fast I don’t see it coming until it’s too late.
Pinning my shoulders with his hands, he says, “We talked, Anya.”
“Is that so?” I don’t recognize this version of me, this woman who wants to scratch out Rachele’s eyes and slap Saverio across the face. “What did you talk about? Me?”
“I told her to stop behaving like a child. She had no right to say to you what she did.”
“Damn right.” I twist out of his hold. “If you’d warned me, I wouldn’t have stood there looking like a damn fool.”
“You’re right.” He lets me go. “I’m sorry.” Stabbing his fingers through his hair, he says, “I don’t like to talk about my marriage to Rachele. I admit that much. That was my mistake.”
His apology catches me off-guard. I expected him to shun me and tell me to mind my own business because what’s going on between him and his ex-wife doesn’t concern me. I shouldn’t care, but I do. I shouldn’t ask, damn me, but I do.
“Do you still care about her? Is that why you brought me? To make her jealous?”
“Would you do that if I asked you?”
“No.” I glare at him. “I don’t play those games.”
“Good.” He takes a step toward me. “Neither do I.”
It doesn’t escape me that he hasn’t answered my question. Yet the answer is obvious. If he doesn’t like to talk about it, his emotions are still too raw, which means he does care. Which brings me to a new question. No, not a new question. The same question.
Why me?
And the answer stares me in the face.
Because I’m convenient.
Because he doesn’t have to feel anything with me. He doesn’t have to care about my feelings either. It’s a foolproof plan for a man who doesn’t want to get hurt. I guess Rachele must’ve really destroyed him if that’s how far he’s prepared to go. Only, his plan doesn’t protect my sensibilities. His ingenious scheme leaves my heart wide open for the breaking. If I’m not careful, he’ll wreck me like his ex did to him. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let my guard down with him, no matter how hard he makes me come or how strong and powerful he makes me feel.
“Anya.” He searches my eyes. “I admitted that I was wrong. I apologized. What more do you want me to say?”
There’s a lot I want him to say, but I can’t let him know how vulnerable he makes me. I won’t give him that kind of ammunition to use against me. It’s enough that he holds my life in his hands.
Steeling my heart, I say, “There’s nothing else to say.”
“Like hell there isn’t. Will it make you feel better if I tell you that I didn’t leave you in the dark on purpose? I haven’t spoken about my marriage to anyone since my divorce.” Raising his arms, he says, “Here I am. Ask me anything you’d like to know.”
“What’s the point?” I ask with frustration.
“The point is that you’ll feel better.”
“Why do you care if I feel better or not?”
“Because it affects the baby.”
Something twists in my chest. Wrong answer. Yes, it’s also the right answer. Yes, I care about my baby’s wellbeing. I just want him to care about me too. But this isn’t about me. This is about Saverio. He’s offering to talk about a subject that’s painful for him because, for a reason I don’t understand, he cares about the child I carry. To throw that back into his face would not only be a sign of bad character but also cruel.
It hurts to push my own sentiments down. A bruise spreads in my heart as I open my mouth and ask, “How long ago did it happen?”
He adopts a stoic expression, no doubt bracing himself for the pain that comes with talking about his breakup. “Six months.”
Ouch. That’s still new. My heart squeezes with compassion. “How long were you married?”
His answer is clipped. “Five years.”
“Why did you break up?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “She met someone else. They had an affair for a year before I found out.”
“Saverio,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says in a harsh voice. “It is what it is. I don’t need anyone’s pity.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Let’s just get on with it.”
Should I push him for more? Will it help him to get it off his chest?
“Go for it, treasure,” he says with a smile that breaks my heart. “After today, we won’t bring up this topic again. This is the only chance you’re getting.”