CHAPTER 18
Edoardo
“What’s going on with you?” Elena stares at me through the screen, unblinking, like she’s daring me to lie.
“What do you mean?” I lift a brow. “I’m the same.”
“There’s something going on with you.” She tilts her head, then swings it side to side, as if changing the FaceTime angle might reveal a hidden clue.
“Me and the rain,” I say, angling my camera so she can see outside. “That’s what’s going on.”
It’s a full downpour now. Lightning slashes across the sky, thunder cracking close enough to vibrate the glass. Water sheets down the gallery’s floor-to-ceiling windows like a waterfall, the city beyond blurred into streaks of light and motion.
“Yuk,” Elena laughs, unimpressed by my deflection. “How are you getting home? Is it flooding there?”
“Car. And no, flooding isn’t an issue.”
She squints at me. “Do tell. What’s new with you?”
“We spoke yesterday,” I counter. “What could possibly change overnight?”
“No, no, brother.” She shakes her head slowly. “We spoke yesterday and I caught a glimpse of something. But then Daddy barged in and we rushed it.” She leans closer to the screen, brows knitting as she zooms in on my face. “And now I see it again.”
“I’ve no freaking idea what you’re seeing.” I say.
And then, I do. The last two days were Caroline. Caroline and me. We’re intimate now. That’s the only difference.
“See?” Elena snaps her fingers. “There. Right there. The corner of your eyes wrinkles.” She grins. “Do tell, brother.” My sister knows me far too well.
Caroline is a modern woman who knows exactly what she wants.
She communicates clearly, unapologetically, and that only fuels the fire between us.
I don’t need to close my eyes to picture her: her curves, her smooth skin, her mouth, her scent.
Two evenings in a row we’ve ended up tangled together, undone, neither of us able or willing to stop.
But it’s new, very new.
“I don’t really have anything concrete to tell you, Elena,” I say carefully.
“Concrete?” She points at the screen, eyebrows shooting up. “Since when does it have to be concrete to tell your little sister? I tell you everything.”
“I know,” I sigh. “But this is new for me too.”
She doesn’t interrupt. She just waits with her arms crossed, expression smug. My little sister knows she’ll get it out of me.
She always does.
“I’m seeing Caroline,” I say quietly.
Her coffee cup freezes halfway to her mouth. She stares at me for a long minute, then another, before slowly lifting her hand to get my attention, unnecessarily.
“Caroline Hammond?” she asks, enunciating each word like she’s testing them. “You’re seeing Caroline? Gigi’s acquaintance?”
I nod.
Her face shifts, becoming unreadable.
After a long pause, she says, “Are you attracted to her because she’s so different from your usual type?”
I shake my head.
“I’m worried,” Elena continues, softer now. “I like Caroline. A lot. She’s striking. She’s gorgeous. She’s so nice, too. But she hasn’t really been in a relationship… ever, Edoardo.”
“We’re very new,” I reply. “Nothing serious. No talk of commitment. Why not just enjoy what it is?”
“Because eventually,” she says carefully, “you’ll want more. You like roots. You like a homey feeling. And Caroline might not be able to give you that.” She studies me. “If you truly think you can enjoy this without getting attached, then fine.”
She doesn’t need to say the rest. I hear it anyway.
“I’m okay,” I reassure her. “And please don’t tell our parents. Let’s survive the holidays in one piece.”
“Done. My lips are sealed.” She grins. “So, I arrive in two days. After your gallery gathering, I travel with you to Paris, then Vienna for staff holiday dinners. I fly home first, and you follow a few days later. Correct?”
I nod.
“Would you invite Caroline?”
“No. She’s already on her flight back to New York. We’ll see each other after the New Year.”
“Oh.” Elena exhales. “Distance too, brother. Another fun obstacle.” She perks up. “When are you going to the Alps with Stefano?”
“Christmas Day through the day after New Year.”
“Perfect. I’ll tell our parents - who, by the way, have been relentless about your love life.”
I hear the other name underneath but I can’t bring myself to care anymore.
I enjoy my time with Caroline more than I expected.
The physical attraction alone is devastating - long nights, tangled sheets, ragged breaths.
But more than that, I like talking to her.
I like how focused she is, how she doesn’t dull her edges for anyone.
I admire her sharpness, her dominance and crave the softness she reserves for the people she cares about.
I don’t like that we’ll be apart for three weeks. She has holiday parties across offices; I have mine. Then she’ll be in San Francisco with her parents. I don’t know whether she’s traveling with Connor this season. They care deeply for each other; she checks in on him every day.
Elena and I chat a little longer about holiday gifts she’s bought in London and shipped home. We say goodbye. I’ll see her this weekend.
My phone buzzes.
I glance down and open it immediately.
Caroline.
“Stuck at Luton. Flight may be canceled because of this storm.” A trail of sad emojis follows.
I call her right away.
She picks up on the second ring. “Hi.”
“So,” I say, leaning against the window as thunder rolls again, “are you stranded dramatically or just mildly inconvenienced?”
“Mildly inconvenienced,” she replies. “But emotionally offended. Luton isn’t built for dignity.”
I smile. “That sounds personal.”
“We couldn’t board, so we’ve been sitting on the floor for twenty minutes because every chair is taken,” she lowers her voice. “A man tried to use three seats for his bags. I judged him silently.”
“Only silently?”
“Okay, Michael didn’t do it silently,” she laughs, and I hear a yelp on her end. He must’ve elbowed her. “That man needs to learn from Manhattan subways. Seats are for butts, not bags.”
I chuckle. “Is that really a thing? And do you actually take the subway?”
“Of course. Subways suck, but sometimes they beat traffic. And do you know the HDR account?”
“What’s HDR?”
“Hot Dudes Reading,” Michael cuts in cheerfully. “We drool over it together.”
“Am I on speaker?” I ask while laughing.
“No,” Caroline says. “He just stole one earpiece. I took it back.”
“So,” I say, amused, “tell me more about HDR.”
“Check Instagram or TikTok,” she laughs. I hear Michael whisper something. “Michael says we should take you on the subway and make an account for you. It’d be gold.”
“Thanks for the confidence in my physics,” I reply and immediately regret the phrasing.
Caroline laughs softly. “No. We won’t show that.”
Heat slides down my spine. Even from miles away, she does this to me - provokes, teases, reminds me of what we’ve shared. Two nights. Multiple times. Different surfaces – couch, bed, bathtub, door, wall. Sweaty sheets. No restraint. And still, just her voice is enough to unravel me.
“They keep saying weather pending,” she says, mercifully changing the subject. “Which feels like airline code for ‘we have no idea.’”
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes. Something that claimed to be pasta. I refuse to insult an Italian by describing it.”
“That bad?”
“Criminal.”
We keep talking. More jokes, more absurd observations. Michael’s ridiculous commentary bleeds in and out of the call. At some point he has one earpiece again, and I’m talking to both of them. It’s unforced and natural. Strange how easy it is with her.
Caroline.
I still can’t quite believe this is happening - how quietly, how unexpectedly, how deeply it’s already woven itself into me.
And I don’t want it to stop.