Chapter 24 Bambalina
Bambalina
It’s been over a week since my birthday party and I don’t know where Nicolò is. According to Antonia, his apartment won’t be ready for a few weeks and according to Sera, he left Boston three days ago. He must be staying at Cristiano’s—because of me.
I asked him to leave and he did.
He left that night and he hasn’t come back.
And stupid, lust-struck fool that I am, I miss him.
I miss him so much I feel a constant, physical ache in my heart.
The messages over the last few days have helped. They’ve given me a chance to ask him questions that I’ve been pondering for weeks, and some assurance he’s going to tell me the truth. After what he did, he owes me honesty.
I wasn’t surprised to hear he was behind the take down of Taylor Parker.
I knew it must have been someone with access, resources and some level of genius.
He knew Taylor’s name and what he’d done to me.
What I couldn’t figure out was why Nicolò had done it.
I expected him to say something off-hand like ‘because he sounded like a dick’ but, for once, he gave me something meaningful.
He didn’t want Taylor hurting me anymore.
That sounds suspiciously like Nicolò cared. My surprise was rivaled only by the influx of warmth through my veins, knowing someone was looking out for me. Like a brother should, I suppose.
Knowing he doesn’t have a heart of stone made his reason for cutting down the vines seem genuine. I now know that Antonia would have asked him the day before to take me to the doctor. He knew what the visit was about too, and I guess he had no choice but to take me.
His comment about not being able to protect me has thrown me off, though. Why would he want to protect me? It’s one thing to launch a smear campaign against a kid who’s done the same to others countless times. It’s another thing to want to protect me beyond that.
I think back to the visit. He wasn’t hugely supportive when we arrived, but inside the doctor’s office was a tension I couldn’t put my finger on. It was there when the doctor began questioning me, and it was even thicker when I returned from the bathroom.
In fact, it was so intense, I’m sure the atmosphere in the room would have burned to a crisp had I lit a match.
I fire off another message because I need another truth.
Did you say something to my gynecologist?
He reads the message straight away but there’s a long pause before he replies.
Yes
A lick of fire curls around my stomach.
What did you say? Word for word
Dots appear and I watch them without blinking.
I told him if he looked at you again I’d fire a bullet into his brain
Breath gushes from my lungs. From what I understand, Nicolò doesn’t kill. Whatever the doctor said must have been serious. Seriously stupid. Because those are not the words of a caring, protective brother. Those are the words of a psychopath.
I type another question but my fingers are shaking.
Why?
This time, the reply is immediate.
He touched you
I press a trembling hand to my beating heart.
And that’s worth killing someone, because…?
I hold my breath until his reply appears.
I didn’t like it
I stare at the four words and feel my stomach melt, heat prickling the space between my legs. Another message makes me forget how to breathe at all.
He thought you and I were together—that I might be capable of getting you pregnant
I’m light-headed by the time I feel coordinated enough to type a response.
So, he made an assumption. What’s so wrong about that?
Then his final response ends me.
Because I hated how close it was to the truth
I’m still staring at my phone when a knock comes at my bedroom door. “Bambi, open up love, there’s someone here who wants to talk to you.”
It’s Antonia and she sounds extremely excited.
“We’ll put you on speaker,” I hear Papa say. They’re both standing outside my room?
I put my phone face down on the bed and hope to God my legs still work. Nicolò, in the space of a couple of minutes, has managed to work me up into a molten mess with just a few text messages. And that wasn’t even his intention. He was just being honest.
I try to push him from my mind with everything I’ve got, and focus on opening the door.
Papa and Antonia are standing outside looking like two giddy teenagers.
“You guys okay?”
Antonia claps her hands and bites down on a squeal. She elbows Papa. “Tell her, tell her, before I burst.”
“Well, I’m not telling her,” Papa says, wide-eyed.
“Hey, am I on speaker?”
I jerk back in surprise. “Is that Tess?”
My sister’s voice rushes through the phone in Papa’s hand. “Yes, it’s me!”
I lean toward the handset even though I can hear her just fine. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s perfect, Bambi!”
I smile despite the fact I keep telling her to call me Lina now—and she keeps forgetting, along with the rest of my family. I feel myself getting swept up in Papa and Antonia’s excitement and I have no idea why. “What’s going on?” I glance up at Papa. “Will someone tell me?”
“I’m engaged!” Tess cries. “Benito just proposed and I said yes.”
Antonia jumps and down, while I grip the sides of my cheeks to stop the smile from breaking my face in half. “What? That’s amazing, congratulations! Where are you?”
“We’re at Benito’s place. He just made us a really romantic dinner, poured me a glass of champagne and just… proposed! It was quiet and simple and… perfect.”
“Is he there?” I rush out.
Benito’s deep, assured voice comes through the phone. “I’m here.”
“Congratulations, Benito. Welcome to the family.”
“We’re going to have drinks here tomorrow night, to celebrate,” Papa says, smiling. “Toni and Alli are going to start calling round people tonight. Bambi, can you take photos?”
“Yes, absolutely. I can’t wait to see you and congratulate you guys. I’m so happy for you both.”
I leave Tess babbling her requests and instructions for the impromptu engagement party to Antonia, and go to organize some of my lenses and lighting equipment ready for the photos.
Thirty minutes later, my camera battery is charging and everything I need—lenses, lighting equipment and backdrops—is stacked in one corner of the room.
My gaze falls to my phone and I can’t help but feel a deep urge to send another message to Nicolò.
This is only the third day of us messaging like this and I’d hoped to take it slow, only letting him back in when—if—I decide it’s the right thing to do.
But, God, I can’t deny it. I want to share this with him.
Tess is our sister and Benny is his best friend. Shouldn’t Nicolò and I be able to rejoice in their announcement together?
I send him a brief message.
Have you heard the news?
His reply comes within seconds.
Does it involve a certain consigliere and a dancer?
I laugh at that.
Yes. Amazing, isn’t it?
It is. I’m surprised it took them so long
Me too actually
There’s a pause.
We’re having drinks here tomorrow night
After another pause, he starts typing.
That’s what I heard. Don’t worry, I’ve already made my excuses
I’m stunned at how rapidly my heart falls out of my chest and clatters at my feet. He’s not coming, because of me. I told him not to come back here and he hasn’t. He isn’t even going to come and join his best friend to celebrate his engagement?
It’s okay, you can come
No. I made a promise. Besides, I’ve got other plans
Now my heart feels like it’s not only flailing about on the floor but it’s also been stamped on. What other plans could he possibly have that take him away from celebrating his best friend’s engagement?
Oh right. I don’t want you to stay away because of what I said. You have every right to be here. But if you have someplace else to be, that’s cool
I press send before I can delete the last two words, and let out a mortified groan. That’s cool. They make me sound like a child.
But more than that, my brain has gone wild conjuring up every possible scenario for what Nicolò will be doing if he’s not here.
It can’t be work-related if Cristiano and Andreas are able to make it.
It won’t be anything to do with his apartment because I overheard Antonia saying he had another few weeks to wait.
A green-eyed thought wraps its long, skinny fingers around my windpipe and squeezes. Does Nicolò have a date? Is he seeing someone?
The room suddenly turns white and I have to lower myself onto the bed.
It’s a question I’ve never asked him. I always assumed that because he worked round the clock most days and never brought anyone home, he was resolutely single.
It hasn’t once occurred to me since I told him to leave that he might have met someone and actually been okay with not coming back here.
The thought of Nicolò being with another woman makes me feel sick—physically sick. He and I didn’t have anything other than a questionable connection, but I still feel stupid for having pushed him away. Now, he may not come back.
My breath stutters as I grip onto the comforter. What have I done?
I can’t be angry at myself—I did the right thing. He abused my trust so I had every right to push him away, but I didn’t expect to feel grief like this.
My eyes are watery as I pick up my phone and send one, final message.
If you can change your plans, please do. I want you to be here, Nicolò. I miss you