Chapter 28
Sydney
My eyes blink open. Only darkness greets me. A consuming haze obscures my thoughts until visions of the night before come flooding back. Extending my arm to my side, I confirm what I already know. The sheets are no longer warm from his beautiful body. The drapes are pulled tightly shut.
He’s gone.
Pushing up onto my elbows, I attempt to shake some sense into myself. The night with him may have felt like a dream, but don’t let yourself forget the nightmare you’ve lived. Unless something changes drastically, this rollercoaster with him has to stop. Heck, I might even need to push for marriage counseling before taking one more step with this man. A sarcastic laugh spills from my lips.
Like Matteo Bianchi would ever go to therapy.
Moving into the bathroom, I come to a stop as I catch my reflection in the mirror. For all of the confusion at having this enigma of a man crashing in and out of my life like a tidal wave, I feel relaxed. Sated for the first time in so long. Almost unnervingly so. But why? It was only sex. No real promises were made. Sure, he was emotional… then I remember why.
Grrrr. I quickly reach for my robe, my tension returning as I sling it over my shoulders and quickly tie the sash. My eyes dart around the space, looking for what? I have no idea.
“Are you watching me right now?” I scream. “Uhh!”
I splash water on my face, hoping it will make me more alert. I need to check each room. But first, I need coffee.
Yet as I attempt to grasp my toothbrush, I catch sight of something. Lifting the folded piece of printer paper, I immediately recognize Matteo’s handwriting.
Sei bella.
So beautiful.
My hand flies to my heart. He even included the translation. Does he know I’ve been studying Italian? Because I would’ve immediately entered it into the app had he not written the words himself. I’d like to think it’s simply his way of sharing his words from last night with me. But I have to be honest. When it comes to this man, nothing is clear.
Holding the paper in my hand, I return to the bedroom, recalling that I’d been scanning for hidden cameras when I stumbled on this. Focus, Sydney. Stop this! Stop falling for the slightest romantic gesture when his actions are not loving. They’re invasive. He lied about the divorce. He broke into my house. And worse, he’s totally invaded my privacy. He can call it whatever he wants. It’s wrong. He’s gone completely beyond the pale.
My pulse quickens as my eyes land on the bedside clock, and I realize it’s already after five. My first surgical case is at seven. I’ll need to meet the patient and their family in pre-op to review everything before we begin. So as much as I’d like to run from room to room looking for cameras, that will have to wait until I get home.
Oh, the next time I get my hands on that man. It will be anything but sexual.
As I spin on my heel to make a quick cup of coffee before jumping in the shower, I discover another folded piece of white paper sitting by the Keurig.
Ti penso ogni giorno.
I think about you every day .
My heart skips a beat before I can chastise myself. Stop it! This man is only playing mind games with you.
I fling open the refrigerator door with a little too much force, the wine bottle inside the door rattling against its confines but luckily, doesn’t tip over. Hell, I’m going to need every drop of that later! Then I see another note, tucked beside the bottle of Santa Margherita.
Sei il grande amoredella mia vita.
You’re the love of my life.
Gah! You’re killing me. I almost let the words slip from my mouth until I remember those damn cameras. Can he hear me too? My gaze bounces from one corner of the room to another. Infuriating man.
I’m tempted to crumble these notes, so he sees they have no effect on me. But it’s a lie. As much as I want to stay furious with him, I can’t seem to destroy his words. Words I’ve waited so long to hear.
Returning to the bathroom, coffee in hand, I take a small sip before depositing it on the counter. I need to get a move on. Shower, dress, and get to work. Stop letting this snake charmer invade my thoughts. But as I reach in to turn on the water, I freeze at the bright red lipstick on the marble tiles.
Ti amo.
I love you.
Ti amerò sempre.
I’ll always love you.
As I drop my robe and step inside, a steady stream of tears mixes with the hot water from above as I reach up to where he’s penned his note.
Furious or not, how am I supposed to get over this maddening man?
Thankfully, I was able to focus during surgery. I’ve never been so grateful for my ability to compartmentalize. Regardless of how exasperating my love life may be, I have a job to do. And my patients deserve 100 percent of my attention.
I love my career as a surgeon. In times of utter sadness, when I question whether I’ll spend the rest of my days alone, it’s what comforts me. That despite my parents urging me toward more self-serving endeavors, I stayed the course. Raising my head high, I take a seat in the hospital courtyard. If my work is all I have to keep me warm at night, at the end of the day, it will be enough.
It has to.
Opening up the plastic salad container, I grimace. Has the last twenty-four hours done a number on my appetite or is this lunch on repeat just getting a little too redundant? I jab the lettuce with my fork, letting out a sigh of resignation. My life is nothing but extremes. An equal mixture of the mundane, then bam! Matteo. Ahh!
Putting down my fork, I drop my head into my hands as I remember the note I found in my purse as I reached for my car keys.
Sei tutto per me.
You’re everything to me .
Is this mental warfare? I shake my head. My mind reels as fragments of recent conversations come flooding back to me. They’re so cryptic. Truth be told, there have been many things Matteo has uttered in passing throughout our marriage that puzzled me. Yet I always chalked it up to a language barrier. But I’ve never been more convinced he’s hiding something. But what?
Matteo’s words start playing on repeat. What was that word he kept saying? My mind flips through all of the little notes, but it’s not there. I close my eyes, trying to remember how it sounded as his haunted green eyes pleaded with me.
“Aspettami. Grazie, aspettami.”
Biting my lower lip, I try to enter the words into my translator app, but I’m not certain I have the spelling right. I sound the syllables out slowly. Asp et ami. After entering a few different versions, the meaning is clear.
Wait for me. Please, wait for me.
My chest aches at the words. Wait for what? I don’t—
Bzzz. Bzzz.
Glancing down at my phone, I don’t recognize the number. “Hello.”
“Hello. Is this Sydney Cunningham?”
“Yes.”
“Hi.” The caller appears to clear his throat before continuing. “This is Anthony with Advanced Alarm company. We have your security system installed. I wanted to reach out to see when it might be convenient to meet you to review setting and disarming the alarm.”
I blow out a frustrated exhale. Fuck’s sake, this man. I’d forgotten all about that. What is happening? Why is Matteo suddenly so insistent on my safety?
“Are you still there?”
Oh, Lord. I’d completely forgotten anyone was on the other line. I’m starting to think it’s not safe for patients to entrust me with their care. My ex-husband, husband… ugh, whatever he is this week is melting my brain.
“Yes. I’m here. I’m sorry, but I didn’t find out about this until the last minute. I’m at work at the hospital. St. Luke’s.”
“Uh, yes.” He again clears his throat. I wonder if he’s coming down with something. “I’m familiar with it.”
“I’m done seeing patients for the day, but I’m on call. So I can head over to meet you, but if I get a call to return to the Emergency Room, I’ll unfortunately have to turn back.”
“Oh, that’s completely understandable. I’m happy to work around your schedule, Dr. Cunningham.”
Hmm. Did he know I was a doctor? Guess Matteo probably shared it when he arranged for the installation. The overprotective nut job. “I’d hate for you to have to go home late to your family because of me.” Well, because of Matteo.
He lets out a jovial chuckle. “It’s quite all right. I’m happy to meet you whenever you need.”
Wow. This guy is so accommodating. Maybe he owns the company. I’m definitely going to submit a good review. “Okay, well, I’ll head in that direction now. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed.”
“Yes, ma’am. Looking forward to meeting you.”
I head back to the office to grab my keys and purse and let Beatrice know I will be heading home, but to call me if she receives any consults from the emergency room.
“That’s fine, dear. Just drive carefully.”
Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I head to the doctors parking lot. Stepping outside, I revel in what a pretty day it is. I’m not sure why this was lost on me when I was outside in the courtyard for lunch. I was probably too fixated on looking up Italian words to give it any mind. Spotting my silver Toyota Highlander in the distance, I smile as the bird sings above me during the short walk to my SUV. As I hit the remote control to unlock the car, I notice another black Cadillac Escalade parked in the far corner of the emergency room parking lot. The windows appear tinted. It seems rather odd that these have all of a sudden popped up everywhere. Maybe I have been noticing them more after commercials have been playing on TV? I shrug and hop in my car.
As I turn on the radio, “Toxic” comes through the speakers. I instinctively raise the volume of the upbeat tune, tapping my left foot to the infectious beat as I pull out of the parking lot and head toward the highway. That is, until the words practically smack me in the face.
Britney croons that the man she is singing about should come with a warning sign, he’s so dangerous. Check . How she’s addicted, but he’s toxic. Check . It only takes one taste, and she’s slipping under. Check. She sings that it’s too late to give up. He’s slowly taking over.
Good Lord. This could be my damn theme song. Uhhh!
I used to love escaping reality by turning up songs, belting out the tunes in the car or the shower like it was my own little concert for one. Now every single one feels like a kick in the teeth. Heck, even Britney Spears is mocking me now.
I swiftly turn off the radio, deciding to connect to my audiobook instead. I’d much rather listen to Jason Clarke talk dirty to me than be constantly reminded of my indiscretions by Britney, Frances, and the like.
Thirty minutes later, I pull into my driveway and find a tall, muscular man in a black suit standing on my porch. Wow. Wasn’t expecting that. Do they normally dress this formal for an alarm installation?
I step out of my car and walk in his direction. “Hi. I’m Sydney. You must be Anthony.” I extend my arm to him in greeting.
“Hello, Dr. Cunningham. It’s very nice to meet you. I hope having you drive here on such short notice didn’t create too much of a wrinkle in your day.”
Geez. This man must be the owner. Between being dressed to the nines and so accommodating. I look around for his work vehicle. That’s odd. “Where did you park?”
He seems to clear his throat again and looks around nervously. I almost tell him not to worry, I’m surrounded by sick people all day, when he says, “I wasn’t sure how long you might be. So, my colleague said he’d return to pick me up once we were done. Wanted to grab a bite to eat.”
“Oh, of course. Well, come on in.” But then again, I’m assuming he’s already been in. I stop abruptly, turning to face him. “Did Matteo let you in?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Hmm. The hairs on the back of my neck are prickling like they do when I get that sensation someone is watching me. I glance over my shoulder to see if my crazy neighbor is outside. But then again, the sun’s out, so…
We head inside, and Anthony gives me the lowdown on how the security system works. It is set up to alarm if there are any breaches in and around the house, yard, or garage. He gives me the detailed packet that has the instructions for setting and disarming the system, as well as the contact information to reach the service if I have any concerns.
“Thank you. This is quite the system.” This seems excessive. Sure, we have a nice home, but it’s not a McMansion or anything. While I could afford that, and it would be a good investment, I wasn’t prepared for that amount of upkeep when I purchased this home. Not to mention, I fell in love with this place.
The home is about 3700 square feet on three floors. It is a craftsman style home with an open floor plan. Our kitchen is all white marble, with a large island separating the cooking space from the dining area and living room. The furnishings are comfortable and stylish, but not ostentatious, like you might find if you visited my parents’ home.
The thing I liked most about it was the way the great room looks out onto our wooded backyard. I’d always hoped to plant a vegetable or herb garden back there, but never seemed to find the time. We do have a small rose garden beside the patio, but the landscapers do much of the work there. It’s gorgeous, and I enjoy sitting there. But where I have skilled surgeon’s hands, so far, I have a brown thumb when it comes to my attempts at gardening.
I was happy that Matteo seemed to settle in easily once we were married. He never expressed concerns that my style was overly feminine. I’d purchased a leather recliner for his birthday one year, but he rarely used it, opting instead to sit next to me. My happiest moments were cuddling up with him, my legs stretched across his lap as we read together.
Shaking my head at the unwanted memories, I decide to busy myself with a cup of coffee before returning to the hospital. “Can I make you a cup, Anthony?” I give him a smile. “I have tea if you’re not a coffee drinker.”
“Oh, I’d love a cup. Thank you.”
“I have more travel coffee mugs than I know what to do with. Just take this with you.”
As I turn to open the fridge and retrieve the creamer, I hear him mutter what sounds like, “I get it.”
“I’m sorry. What was that?”
His face falls. He again clears his throat. “I’ve worked with Matteo for many years. He said you were a nice lady.”
A blush crosses my cheeks at his kind remark. “Thank you. This seems pretty straightforward.” Lifting the packet of information on the counter. “I’m going to take my coffee with me back to the hospital. I never know what I’m in for when I’m on call.” I blow across the rich Columbian roast before taking a small sip and covering the insulated mug with the plastic top. “I hope you won’t have to wait too long for your co-worker to return for you.”
I escort Anthony back to the front door. Biting my lower lip, I slowly and methodically type in the code to set the alarm before walking out the door.
“Nicely done.” He chuckles.
I giggle. “Thank you. Now I just have to remember it’s there. Otherwise, I’m likely to give myself a heart attack if the thing goes off when I walk in so exhausted I forget to disarm it.”
I give Anthony a wave as he walks down the driveway with his phone to his ear. I still don’t understand the sudden need for this whole thing. Matteo never seemed concerned when he lived here. Is that the point? He’s worried since I’m here alone? If he could only share whatever it is that he has to take care of first, maybe we could set things right, and he could move back in.
I’d much rather have him protecting me each night than some silly alarm.