I sit in my car and stare across the street as she walks down the pavement.
I have a new pastime.
Stalking Olivia Reynolds.
Like a drug that I can’t have, I find myself thinking about her night and day.
Day and night.
I’m furious with Sophia, as if this is all somehow her fault. I can’t even talk to her at the moment. She doesn’t have what I need.
My drug has blonde hair, blue eyes, and the morals of a saint.
My drug made me feel worthy of her affection.
My drug is gone.
I watch on as she sits down onto a park bench and takes out her phone to scroll through it. She does this sometimes, as if not wanting to go back to her hotel.
My phone vibrates on the seat beside me, and I look over at the screen and frown.
Olivia Reynolds
It’s her, I scramble to answer it. “Hello, Olivia.”
“Hi,” she says softly. I smile as I watch her across the road. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Are you?”
“It’s so good to hear your voice,” I whisper before I turn my mouth to brain filter on. I scrunch my eyes shut… stop it.
She pauses for a moment. “Can we meet up for a coffee sometime?
My heart flips. “Of course.” I smile, she wants to see me. “When. Now?” I offer.
“No, I’m at work now,” she lies.
“I see.” I run my finger along the side of the steering wheel as I watch her. “Tonight?” I ask.
“No. In the daytime is better.”
I clench my jaw, knowing that means it’s platonic. She feels safer in the day. “Okay, tomorrow?”
“Yes. Two o’clock?”
“The café near your hotel?”
“Yes. See you then.” She hangs up, and I watch her stare at her phone for a moment before she stuffs it in her bag and begins to walk away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, bella. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I whisper with a smile.
She wants to see me. There’s hope.
* * *
I sit in the café and glance at my watch. It’s 2:10 p. m.
Where is she?
I’ve been antsy all day. What if she doesn’t come?
I sip my coffee, while her coffee sits on the table opposite me, going cold. I got here early. I couldn’t wait any longer.
She breezes in and gives me a little wave as she approaches the table. I smile like a puppy as I scramble to my feet.
“Hello.”
“Hi,” she replies as I kiss her cheek.
She’s wearing a white linen shirt and navy capri pants. Her blonde hair is in a low ponytail, and she is wearing minimal makeup.
Natural perfection.
She sits down opposite me.
“I ordered you a coffee but it’s probably cold. I’ll order you another.”
“It’s fine.”
I stare at her, lost for words. What do you say to someone you’ve been following around all week? “How are you?” I ask.
“Good.” She smiles. “Getting there. How are you?”
My face falls. I hate that she’s fine. Am I alone in this? “I’m okay.” I fake a smile. “You wanted to see me?” I ask.
“Yes, I did.” She pauses and sips her coffee. “I have a few questions that I need answered.”
“Okay.” She wants to keep seeing me. She’s going to agree to it. “Anything, ask me anything.”
Her eyes hold mine, as if she’s steeling herself to speak. “Why do you think that your heritage depends on who you marry?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you… you said that…” She stops herself. “I know these seem like stupid questions to you, but I didn’t ask you them the other day and they are eating away at me.”
“I’m the head of my family now, and with that comes responsibilities. It’s in my hands to ensure that my family continues on as it has for centuries.”
“And you were taught this as you grew up?”
“Yes. When I have my own children, it is very important for them to know my language and their culture, and what it means to be Italian.”
“I see.” She smiles sadly.
We sit in silence for a moment.
“So, that’s your magnet?” she asks.
I frown, not understanding. “What do you mean?”
“When you meet someone, they have a magnet that attracts you to them. Everyone has a magnet. Some are stronger than others.”
I stare at her, fascinated by her theory. “What’s your magnet to me? What attracted you to me?” I ask.
She chuckles. “Funnily enough, my magnet to you is the exact reason that we can’t be together.”
“Such as.”
“I loved how you are so proud of being Italian.”
My heart drops.
“And how you care for your family and love your parents. How I felt so safe in your arms.”
I frown and take her hands over the table as emotion overwhelms me.
Baby.
“But it was your stance on marriage that caught me off guard. You told me that when you marry, it’s going to be for life.”
I clench my jaw. She’s here to say goodbye.
No. please no.
“But then you ruined it in spectacular fashion by telling me that you own brothels, and then wanting me to be your mistress.” She shrugs. “I’m wiping that from my memory bank permanently, by the way. I’ve never been so insulted in my entire life.”
“I didn’t buy the brothels. I took them over from the family. Don’t judge me on that. And…” I pause. “I just didn’t know how to walk away from you. I was trying to find an answer to this mess-one where we can stay together.”
“I know.” She smiles sadly. “And if my self respect was for sale, I would sell it to stay in your arms.”
We stare at each other, sadness and regret hanging in the air between us.
I wasn’t joking. I really don’t know how to walk away from her.
She pulls her hands out of mine with renewed determination. “What was your magnet to me?” she asks. “Just for interest’s sake.”
Sadness begins to roll in like a thick fog.
I raise my brows as I think. “When I’m with you, I forget who I am. You remind me of who I was before,” I whisper. “When I could be who I wanted to be.” Her eyes search mine. “You are the only honest thing left in my life, and I’m scared that if I lose you, I will lose myself.” I frown. Where the hell did that come from?
I drop my head, rattled by my own admission.
“Baby,” she whispers. “You are a good man. You don’t need me or anyone to prove that to you. And when you meet her and fall in love, you will know that too.”
“I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else,” I whisper as fear grips me. “What if I’m already in love with you?”
“You’re not.” She smiles sadly with a shake of her head. She cups my hand to her cheek.
“How do you know?”
“Because when you love someone, they instantly become your family. It isn’t a choice. Your family presents itself.”
My face falls. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I never meant for this all to happen but I couldn’t stay away.”
“I’m sorry, too.” She smiles as she takes her hand from my face, coldness fills the void.
“So, this is it?”
“Yes, this is it. I just wanted to say goodbye and tell you that I understand.”
I get a lump in my throat. “You do?”
“Of course, I do.” She gives me her first genuine smile of the day. “I wish you the best. She will come.”
I stare at her, unable to push a word pass my lips. She’s already here.