Antonio’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “Is everything alright, Miss Ferrara?”
“Yes,” I lie, I keep looking out the window, I haven’t made eye contact with him all week.
“You just don’t seem yourself, did something happen in Ibiza?” His eyes flick up to meet mine in the rearview mirror as he waits for my answer.
Everything happened.
“Not at all.” I fake a smile at my ever-loyal guard. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“Because….”
“I’m fine, Antonio,” I say, sterner, cutting him off.
He rolls his lips and gives a curt nod and continues to drive.
Damn it, that was rude.
This isn’t his fault, but I can’t go there, I don’t want him digging around and trying to discuss my train wreck of a love life. I’m simply not strong enough to talk about it, I can’t anyway, even if I wanted to.
I try to make amends for snapping at him. “Tell me about your sister’s wedding on the weekend?”
He raises an eyebrow as his eyes stay fixed on the road in front. “Alright.”
I square my shoulders, determined to hide my feelings better. “Tell me everything.”
I’m okay through the day, it’s bedtime, I fear.
Darkness, the dreaded bearer of sadness, and like the masochist that I am, every night I do what I swear I will never do again. I put my headphones in and I cry silently in the darkness as I listen to “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston.
I picture us dancing alone in our hotel room and him smiling down at me.
The love between us.
Why do I put myself through it?
I don’t know.
But I feel like I have to get it out, because how can you be so broken inside if you don’t get to show it to anyone.
I pretend I’m okay.
I don’t speak his name, I don’t ask about him, I don’t cry, and I’ll never admit it, but even after four weeks, I feel like I’m getting worse, not better.
I hear Anna wind up her phone call to Carlo, to add salt to my already weeping wound, he and her are going rock steady, while my world is falling apart.
At least Ibiza resulted in someone’s happiness, I only wish it was mine.
I have no one to blame but myself, I knew what I was getting into when I slept with Giuliano. But I had to do it anyway.
More fool me, I deserve every tear that I’ve cried. “I’m tired,” I say as I stand. “I’m going to turn in.”
“Good night,” Anna replies as she sits on the couch, she looks me up and down. “You’ve lost a lot of weight.”
I glance down at myself. “Have I?” I know I have, I’m skin and bone. Food turns my stomach. “I guess I’ve been so busy working that I haven’t had time to eat.” I shrug.
Anna’s eyes hold mine and I know that she knows. “Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh.” I smile. “Fine.”
“Are you really okay?”
“Absolutely, good night.” I walk into my bedroom and close the door behind me, I slide down it to sit on the floor, the dreaded lump in my throat returns.
I’m not okay.
I click onto my hundredth website for today, I can’t find the damn wallpaper that I want for the hotel. I know exactly what I want and damn it, why can’t I find it?
I’ve seen it a lot in the past and now that I finally want to order, it seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth.
Knock, knock sounds at my office door. I glance up to see my boss.
“Hi.” I smile. “Come in.”
“Hi, Francesca,” he replies, he comes and sits down at my desk. “How’s it all going? I’m hearing great things.”
“Awesome.” I smile proudly. “Busy.”
“Francesca,” Tony says from the door. “That tile that we used on the Murdoch job, do you remember the name?”
“Blackbird in matte.”
“Great. I knew you’d remember it.” He goes to walk out.
“It needs to be cut on the angle, remember,” I call after him.
“Ah.” Tony’s face falls. “Does it?”
“It has to be laid in herringbone to get that look.”
“I was going to do chevron.”
I wince. “It will look lovely, very different, though. If you want that same look as the Murdoch job, I would go herringbone.”
“Okay, thanks.”
My attention returns to my boss.
“Where are we up to with the Remington project?” he asks.
“They’re currently demolishing and I’m ordering materials and furnishings.”
“Chesk, what carpeting did we use in Chalet Street?” Ella asks from the door.
“Um.” I screw up my face as I try to place the job. “In the bedrooms or the living?”
“Bedrooms.”
“It was a tufted hundred percent wool. I’m not sure of the color, it’s from the Merino latest catalogue.”
“Okay, thanks.” She disappears.
My boss looks over at me. “Are you always interrupted every two minutes like this?”
I give an embarrassed smile. “Comes with the job, I guess.”
“No. it shouldn’t, not when you have your own very important job running. Why don’t you work from home for a while?”
“Really?”
“That way nobody will interrupt you every five minutes, you can actually get things done.”
“That would be great, thank you.” I smile, although a little voice from deep inside fears what sinister thoughts the silence may bring. Keeping myself busy is the only thing keeping me sane at the moment. “I’ll only need a few weeks to get everything finalized and then I’ll be back in the office, I like being here.”
I need to be here.
“Okay, starting tomorrow, turn your phone off and work from home. No more interruptions.”
“Wonderful.” I smile. Although it’s not, working alone is not great for my mental health at the moment.
I’m worrying me.
Antonio pulls the car to the curb. “Just call me when you’re ready,” he says over his shoulder.
“I won’t be long.” I sigh, this is the very last place I want to be. I’m finally having dinner with Marcel. He’s been begging me to see him for weeks and I know I owe him some closure. He needs to talk it all out and I need to listen.
We haven’t seen each other since the day we broke up, at first, he didn’t want to, and then by the time he finally did, I was so self-absorbed over my heartbreak that I haven’t been able to deal with his.
Pity it’s not over the same relationship.
I’m officially the worst person I know, thinking back over the last few weeks and the feelings that have re-emerged, I really don’t know if I ever truly loved Marcel.
At least, not the way I do my Giuliano.
My Giuliano…what a joke.
He isn’t mine, he’s probably slept with fifty women since we went to Ibiza. I’m sure he’s fucked me well and truly out of his system by now.
The thought is depressing.
I peer through the window and see Marcel sitting at a table at the back, he looks up and sees me and I smile and wave.
It is good to see him.
Giuliano
I sit in my car outside the club, the boys are waiting inside for me…but I’m struggling to go in.
I’m low.
It’s not going away…in fact, it’s getting worse.
Every day away from her feels like an eternity.
I should never have gone to Ibiza, I’ve been in a detached state from the world ever since.
Neither here nor there … dead or alive.
I can’t stop wondering where she is, what’s she doing? I feel better when I know.
I dial Antonio’s number; I’ve been keeping tabs on her movements through him.
“Hey, boss,” he answers.
“Hi, the computers will be ready tonight sometime.”
“Okay great.”
“Can you pick them up and deliver them to the airport? The plane is scheduled to leave at eleven p. m.”
“For sure.”
My computer blew up and seeing it has such sensitive material on it that I need retrieved, I can only get it fixed by someone on our payroll. Unfortunately, he lives in France, so we have to literally fly our plane to him with my computer and then we fly it home. I have another two computers that need servicing as well.
One hell of an expensive computer service, but we have no other choice.
We can’t risk anyone having access to our data.
“He will call you when it’s ready to pick up,” I reply.
“Okay.”
I close my eyes, it’s always so awkward when I call with my hidden agenda. “Where are you?”
“Outside a restaurant.”
She’s out.
I choose my words carefully. “Having dinner, is she?”
“Yes.”
“Who with?” I try to act casual.
“Marcel.”
I frown. “Her ex?”
“Yeah…they got back together.”
What?
I’m shocked to silence as my nostrils flare.
“I’ll wait for the call,” Antonio replies.
“Okay,” I mutter, distracted. I hang up the phone and put my head back against the headrest.
Fuck.
I mean I knew…. But…. She was always going back to him.
With my elbow resting on the steering wheel I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale heavily. I picture the two of them together and my stomach twists in anger.
Fuck this.
My car door opens in a rush. “Hey,” Alex says as he walks past my car. “What are you doing?”
I stare out at him, I’m angry, furious with her…at myself.
But mostly, I’m just fucking pathetic.
“Come on,” Carlo says. “You are going in there and you’re going to get some high-grade pussy and snap the fuck out of this.”
My eyes meet Alex’s. “He’s right, man. Trust me, you’ll thank us tomorrow.”
She’s with him.
I get out of the car with renewed determination and slam the door hard. “Let’s go.” We walk in through the front doors.
The bouncer nods and unlatches the red rope for us. “Good evening, Mr. Ferrara.”
“Hello.” I glance in through the double doors at the club, loud music and scantily dressed women.
I’m in the mood for a blonde…and fuck it, I’m going to have one.
Maybe a few.
Francesca
I make my way through the restaurant and Marcel stands as I approach, he kisses me on the cheek. “Hello.”
“Hi.” I smile as I sit down.
“You look beautiful.”
“Oh.” I try to deflect the compliment. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better.” He forces a crooked smile.
An awkward silence falls between us.
We both go to speak at the same time and then both stop ourselves. “You go first,” I offer.
“I don’t know why we broke up, but I want to repair our relationship.” He grabs my hand over the table. “Please tell me we can.”
“Marcel.” I let out a deep exhale.
Damn it.
“I have issues.” I sigh. “And it’s not fair to bring them into our relationship.”
“Like what?”
I stare at him as I try to think of a kind way to let him down. How the hell do I do this without hurting him?
“Is it something that I did?”
“No.”
“The proposal…we can wait. If you’re not ready for marriage then that’s okay.”
My heart drops and I squeeze his hand in mine. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I should never have accepted your wedding proposal…but.” Oh God, this is the worst. “You asked me in a public situation. What was I supposed to do?”
“Say no.”
“I would never humiliate you like that.”
“You would just leave me after I had told everyone I know that we were engaged.”
“I’m so sorry. I wish I could turn back time, I would’ve handled things so differently.”
“How?” His eyes hold mine and I can tell he’s holding on to his temper by a tiny thread.
“I didn’t realize we were anywhere in the marriage kind of spectrum. We had never talked about it, we didn’t even live together.” I shrug. “We only saw each other on the weekends.”
“Because we were busy,” he snaps in an outrage.
“No, it wasn’t that at all. We had no urgency to see each other. I know you don’t see it now, but you don’t love me the right way either.”
“You don’t love me?” He gasps out loud as if surprised. “You really don’t love me?”
The people sitting at the tables around us are beginning to look over as they eavesdrop on our conversation. I have no idea why they’re listening; this conversation is a complete nightmare. I don’t want to hear it myself…and I’m in it.
“What I’m saying is,” I say softly, “I don’t want to be in a relationship anymore and I didn’t realize this until you proposed to me. Instead of feeling excited, all I could feel is panic and that it was wrong. I shouldn’t be like that, and you….” Words fail me. “I’m just so, so sorry.” I squeeze his hand. “You deserved so much better and I will never forgive myself for treating you the way I have.”
He lets out a deep sigh.
“I missed every sign, every cue that you gave me. I must have, because to be honest, I’m still shocked. You took me completely by surprise.”
We hold hands over the table as he stares at me.
“I’d like it if we could be friends.” I smile hopefully.
“No. I can’t be friends with you. It’s all or nothing.”
“Okay.” I nod sadly, I get it. I can’t be friends with Giuliano either, it hurts too much to see him and not be able to hold him.
I wonder where he is tonight.