Chapter 8
Ihave never been bored being with by myself.
I also know I will die alone. But what is this emptiness I feel seeing her move about with the kid?
I thought time would do its magic and make it better. I thought I fucking had it under control, but I was only fooling myself. I must get myself under control.
I trace my middle finger along my gun because I am bored. I want to shoot something—preferably her boyfriend. Or, if I am being honest, it is myself I want to shoot, for being this way.
It was I who fucking told her to make her choice. I fucking did that, and now I am not sure how I feel about anything anymore. I am only sure that I want her for myself. But I can’t have her. I don’t deserve to have her. What she deserves is to have whatever kind of life the kid can offer her. A clean slate kind of life. One without baggage.
I crank the air conditioner up and flip the gun from side to side, my mind searching for a balm.
I have spent an unhealthy amount of time on my phone, flipping through the pictures on Eva’s social media. She never posts pictures of herself there, only images of her work, and if I were to be handed a paint brush, I would paint them all by heart because that is how much time I have been spending on her page.
I can’t say I miss her. She was never mine to begin with. But lately, it feels like I have lost her, even though I never had her. It’s the most confusing shit ever. This is why I loathe the idea of my heart being in charge.
“If I kiss you, there is no recovery from that,” I’d said as I was caressing my way up her arms to cradle her face.
There was no recovery from that. I knew I would get infected by her charm. I saw I wasn’t strong enough to fight her virus off. Yet, I gave myself over to the disease. And to this day, I am yet to come up with an antidote for my sickness.
I reach for my phone, searching for any form of distraction. Mindy has yet to text back, even after four days. She avoids me like the plague. It was what I wanted, and I am grateful she wants the same thing.
Unconsciously, I find myself opening my gallery and trying to see if I have a picture of Eva somewhere. It’s a fool’s dream because I am careful where she is concerned. I toss the phone and look in the rearview mirror for any sign of Eva and Gloria since her period is almost over.
I am still looking in the rearview mirror and must have missed her taking the other way to me when I hear a knock on the car window.
She”s standing at the passenger seat door, not the backseat where I usually keep her so that there”s at least some space between us before my hands wander or before I give in to the urge and start staring at her for too long, which will inevitably result in me killing us both in an accident.
I shove the gun in the pocket of my holster before unlocking the car. I grind my teeth at my pumped heart skydiving at the scent of her near me. She studies me for a while, then she climbs in, not buckling the seatbelt, which means she wants to talk or annoy the shit out of me.
“I have a request,” her voice is low, too low. She is about to ask me for something difficult. I start the car because I will not be sitting through another torture of a date between her and her boyfriend. “Hear me out first…”
“No,” I peg.
“It’s a date, but it’s…”
“No,” I say, dropping my eyes on her seatbelt. She frowns, folding her arms across her chest instead.
“It’s for a study project,” she mumbles, “It’s street photography…”
“Hmm,” I want her to get to the part when the daggers get driven into my heart.
“I will be going with Paul, and I need your help to convince my father,” she slants, the rim of her green dress giving way for the slit to show her silky thigh.
I suck in a gut-punching, cock-straining, and mind-boggling breath at the sight. She had to wear a fucking dress today of all days.
“Fabio?” She calls me again, and I shamefully lift my eyes to her face, “Please, remember you said you would allow me to choose who I want to love and be with…” What does that have to do with anything? Why do I have to fucking lie for both of them to make that possible?
“And you want to be with him?” I hate this. I fucking hate being this way at this age. I hate sounding this pathetic or second-guessing my decision.
She veers her eyes to look outside the car, and a part of me hitches at the thought that she might say no, and I can end all of this here and now, but another part of me is scared to fucking death that she would choose me. If she chooses me, what am I supposed to do with her? How can I have something this… heavenly?
“For now,” she gulps. “For now,” she sucks in a deep breath. “Will you help me?” She turns her eyes to me, and I catch her blinking back what looks like tears.
Not those.
I would rip my heart and serve it to her on a platter if she so much as asked, and she wants to add tears to that arsenal. If she wanted to, I would raze the world and burn it to the ground.
“Okay,” I sit straight, hands tight around the steering wheel. I drive off and she exhales a staggering breath before fastening her seatbelt.
“We won’t need to stay out too long,” Eva bounces on her feet as she gives Emanuele the rundown of her school project, omitting the part of her boyfriend tagging along.
“Street photography?” Emanuele quirks his brows at Eva and then leans on his seat behind his desk.
“Yes, papà,” Eva circles to him and leans her butt on the desk, facing him. “I will have to take a lot of pictures because then we need to pick the best among them and make a collection.”
“It’s a school project?” He observes me, even though I am not the one talking, nor have I said a thing since we got into his study.
“Yes,” she chirps eagerly. A little too eagerly, and it vexes me to my bone marrow that she wants to go on this date with the kid.
“Why can’t you take pictures of the estate?” Normally, although Emanuele has always been protective of Eva, he would have given his support right away, but with Salvatore roaming around, we have to be extremely careful.
“That’s not how it works,” she grumbles, then slants to face me. “Tell him, Fabio, tell him that’s not how it works.” What does she want me to tell him? What the fuck am I supposed to know about street photography?
“He is into photography now?” Emanuele chuckles. “Don’t tell me he has found a new passion while taking you to school,” he gives me a pinch of a smile, and I grunt. “Should I buy you a camera too, Fabio?”
Eva giggles. “I will help with the lectures,” she smiles at me.
“How are things?” Emanuele shifts her attention to him.
She breathes. “School has been great, and my grades are doing fine, as always.” She reaches for the half bottle of water on the desk and sips from it. “Gloria is still my only friend so far, or rather, my only close friend and I have been avoiding my studio lately.” She drops her head at that last part, and a part of me wants to cup her in my hands and tell her she has nothing to be afraid of because I am the one watching over her.
“You have nothing to be afraid of,” Emanuele reassures her, the words I wish I could say to her. “But I am asking about both of you.” He flicks his index finger between us, and the tension wafts in with that gesture. “He has been taking you to school and back.”
“Good,” Eva answers quickly, “We are good.”
“You two talk?” Emanuele continues.
“A lot,” Eva nods.
“About what?” He directs the question to me, and I shrug. He knows we are nowhere closer to being a couple now than we were the night he first informed us.
“About things, school things,” Eva averts the threat. “I do most of the talking, and he does the listening.”
Emanuele nods. “I think an outdoor event like this will be good for the both of you,” Emanuele stands, “You will go with her and make it…”
“A date,” Eva smiles. “We will make it a date.”
“I was going to say make it safe for you, keeping his eyes on you at every point, but a date is fine too,” he cradles her face and kisses her forehead. “Be good, but give him hell,” he pats her cheek softly, and she nods.
“You can count on me,” she hammers—such detrimental advice. I am already deep into hell; how much more now that he is telling her to it, I don’t know. And with the way she is frizzy about it, I know she will take him up on it.
“Keep her safe,” he flips between the both of us, and I nod. “If you need me, Eva, I will be with Vittoria on the porch in the backyard,” another kiss on her cheeks, and he strides out.
The door is not yet closed, and she sprints towards me, hauling herself at me. I am sitting on the sofa, and the force of her jump sends me falling back, my hand gripping her waist for balance and one of her knees slightly pressing on my cock. My inside comes alive, and the hairs on my skin spike.
“Thank you,” she says, dropping her head on my chest. “Thank you so much,” she lifts a bit and holds my gaze; and I might be imagining things, but she adjusts her knee on my cock, and I moan internally. “I know you never lie to him; thank you for looking out for me; it means the world to me.”
“Hmm,” I strain out, every vein in my body like antennas transmitting signals.
She drags herself like she is about to lift off me, her hands coming to rest on the armrest beside my head. Then, she smiles softly, presses her lips on mine, and off she goes, leaving me in a state of confusion.
Was that a thank you kiss, or was that a…?
Little devil.