CHAPTER 59 – CASPIAN
I haven’t heard from Antonio since I dropped him off at the trattoria.
He read my message last night and didn’t answer. I watched the blue checkmarks like they might start explaining themselves if I stared long enough. They didn’t.
I spent the night dismantling our entire relationship, trying to find the reason for his silence.
Not knowing is the worst kind of torture.
I sent him another text at dawn, but he didn’t even read it.
Fuck it.
I’m done waiting.
If anyone is capable of tying himself into a knot and not getting out of it, it’s my stubborn boyfriend.
I drive to his house.
His mother opens the door, looking relieved to see me. She offers me risotto, then coffee, then risotto again.
Only after I’ve declined with the patience of a saint does she tell me he’s upstairs.
“He’s in a mood,” she whispers. “He reminds me of his Nonna. We have a family history of… drama. There’s Scottish blood, too.”
I thank her and head upstairs before she continues with the family saga.
Now is not the time for the whole di Scotti lineage.
I can handle moods. I can handle genes. I can handle every goddamn obstacle as long as my boyfriend is safe.
His door still has an elaborate name sign from his childhood, written in letters that look like ancient symbols.
I take a deep breath before knocking once and stepping in.
The room is a tomb for the living. The curtains are drawn, the air is heavy with despair, and I can practically hear the tragic cello solo playing in Antonio’s head.
He is a lump under the blanket.
He looks up, sees it’s me, and immediately performs the least convincing snoring routine in history.
“I know you’re awake,” I say, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
“I’m not,” he argues from under the covers. I can only see the top of his head. “Please go away.”
That stings, but I soldier on.
“I’ve been worried, Antonio. Sick with it.”
A muffled sniff.
“I didn’t mean to worry you. You still need to leave.”
“Why should I leave?”
“Because.”
“Can you be more specific? I’m a law student, I need a better argument than because.”
“Because I want you to!”
I close my eyes. Count to three.
“There is no way in hell I’m leaving,” I say steadily.
He lowers his blanket.
He’s been crying.
His eyes are red-rimmed and raw.
My heart twists, aching without knowing why.
“You can’t stay here if I don’t want you to,” he whispers.
“But that’s not the case here, is it? I’ve heard from a very reliable source that you don’t actually want me to leave you alone.”
He sits up, his hair a wild mess.
“That’s preposterous.”
“Is it?”
“Hearsay,” he says, nodding. “I object.”
He looks more vulnerable than ever. I want to comfort him, soothe him, make it all better.
If he only let me.
“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” I ask.
“There’s no point. I already know you won’t believe me.”
“I know you don’t mean to hurt me, but I’m at the end of my tether. I’ve been really fucking worried.”
His eyes flash with fury.
“If your tether’s ended, the door is right there!”
I laugh, but it’s a sad, tired sound.
“Please don’t twist my words. I can see you’re scared, but shutting me out isn’t helping.”
“You aren’t helping!”
“I’m literally sitting here trying to help you as we speak.”
His breath hitches.
“Don’t yell at me!”
I rub my eyes, trying to force the tension out of my jaw.
“I was not yelling.”
“You almost raised your voice,” he says, crossing his arms.
“For fuck’s sake, Antonio,” I snap. I regret it the second I see his lip wobble.
Goddamn fuck.
“It’s alright,” I say, my voice softer. “I didn’t mean to snap.”
“But you did.”
“I did. I’m sorry. But you need to tell me what’s going on.”
I look at him. His eyes burn.
“You need to let me in,” I say.
I can see how much he wants to—but he’s frightened.
“There’s only one thing in this world that could make me walk away,” I say. “That is you not wanting to be with me anymore. For real. Do you want to
be with me?”
He nods immediately while fidgeting with the blanket.
Relief floods me.
“Okay. That’s the most important thing. Now, please tell me what has caused this?”
“You’re taking her side and assuming she’s right, because that’s how it always goes!”
He doesn’t make any sense.
”Could you tell me whose side I’m taking?”
“Your sister’s!”
“What?” My stomach drops.
“A patient died and your sister blamed it on Sophia. In front of everyone!” He’s twisting the blanket in his hands, his anxiety vibrating.
“Of course everyone believes her. That’s what people do.
Rich people protect other rich people. They destroy the people who can’t fight back, just like in school. ”
He starts crying. My heart breaks. I get it now.
“Antonio—”
“And now you’re going to defend her,” he sobs. “Because she’s your family. It’s like I don’t matter at all.”
I reach out and pull him into my lap.
To my immense relief, he lets me.
“Listen to me.” I cup his jaw and gently coax him to look at me. “I believe you. I will always believe you. No matter what. I will always choose you over my family.”
He buries his face in my neck.
“No, you won’t.”
“I will. I promise you, I will.” I kiss his head, his forehead, his jaw, the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t shut me out again. I was losing my mind.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, looking up at me with shimmering eyes. “I might have… jumped to conclusions.”
I deserve a medal for not bursting into hysterical laughter.
“You don’t say,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over his cheek.
He shivers.
“Are you mad at me?” He has fear, apology, and regret written all over him.
“I probably should be,” I say honestly. “I hated it. I hated every second of not knowing what was going on. I won’t pretend it didn’t hurt.”
I kiss him again.
“But I’m not mad. I was just scared of losing you.”
“I didn’t mean to make you scared.”
“I know. But next time, talk to me.”
He smiles. I fucking love it when he smiles. He’s in my arms. He’s alright. And he smiles.
“Talking might be too reasonable for me,” he mutters.
He shifts in my lap, his hands warm around my neck.
The air in the room changes.
It’s no longer heavy with drama—it’s charged with a different kind of intensity.
A strong pulse of desire shoots through me. I’m doing my best to stay calm.
“I don’t have to work tomorrow,” he says, giving me a shy look that is more like a question.
“I’m glad you have a day off,” I tell him, my fingers sliding into his hair. “Did you have plans?”
His hips move carefully when he leans closer.
His lips brush my ear.
“Voglio tutto.”
He kisses the corner of my mouth.
“I want everything. No more waiting.”
Then, in a whisper that breaks and heals my heart, “Please.”
I promise him everything.