Chapter Thirteen
Erin
By the time Monday rolls around, I’ve mostly pulled myself together.
Sunday was a blur of digital noise and ambient silence until I collapsed on the sofa somewhere past midnight.
Today, I go to the clinic like nothing happened.
I’m cheerful, efficient, maybe even extra sunny, offering to replace Mira and Debbie for an hour or two so they can catch up on paperwork.
It is a perfectly normal day, and right now I need normal.
I need the comfort of animals who don’t lie or reject you. I keep smiling until my cheeks hurt.
Then Lily texts.
Let’s meet for lunch? I’m near the clinic.
I hesitate for a beat, before I reply.
Of course.
We meet at the small café down the block where she took me out for lunch the first day.
She is already seated at our table when I arrive, sipping her mint-infused water.
Her eyes brighten when she sees me, but they scan me too, catching details I didn’t want her to notice like the dark circles I failed to conceal, or the tension in my shoulders.
“So,” she says after we order. “You ghosted brunch.”
I wince. “Sorry about that. I had too much champagne, my brain was mush.”
Lily raises a brow. “Was it just the champagne?”
She knows me too well, there is no use trying to hide anything from her.
“I might…have drunkenly kissed Matteo in the spur of the moment.” I cringe from the humiliating memory.
She inhales sharply, but says nothing.
I pause, searching for words. “He made it clear he isn’t interested,” I say lightly, eyes fixed on my fork. “No big deal.”
There’s a beat of silence. I can feel her still watching me.
“Well,” she says eventually, voice gentle but even, “he’s an idiot.”
I smile but don’t answer.
After a moment, she leans in and asks in a hushed voice, “I overheard Dark on the phone this morning. Something’s going on around here, people are being arrested, companies are being shut down under suspicion of illegal activities. You wouldn’t happen to know why that might be, would you?”
I lift my brows, feigning surprise. “Know what?”
“Erin,” Lily says sternly.
“I-I was just…uh… p-productive yesterday,” I stammer.
“Productive,” she echoes. “Doing what, exactly?”
“Cleaning up. You know, small-time stuff, nothing but a light Sunday. It was mostly therapeutic, really.” I give her one of my brightest grins.
Lily narrows her eyes, not fooled for a bit. “Erin, that was not a light Sunday. From what I heard, it was a full-scale state-wide cleaning operation.” She reaches over the table and takes my hand to squeeze lightly. Then she lets go with a heavy sigh. “I’m worried, that’s not like you.”
I shrug, then smile. “I’m fine.”
“You should be careful,” she says quietly. “You’re starting to get reckless.”
“Me?” I say, gasping dramatically. “Reckless? Never.”
But she doesn’t laugh. She keeps watching me with worry but she drops the subject.
I lean in, resting my chin on my hand. “How’s pregnancy going? Are you feeling the kicks yet?”
Her expression turns tender. “Not yet. Might be too early. But sometimes I feel this…fluttering, or like a tingling. It’s a funny feeling.”
We talk a while longer about everything and nothing. All the lighter things that tether you back to earth after a weekend spent in emotional chaos. Eventually, I stand to go, but not before she extracts a promise from me with that soft, serious look of hers.
“You’ll slow down, right?”
I sigh, then grin. “Scout’s honor. I’ll back off the vendetta…a little.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she lets me go.
And I head back to the clinic.
The rest of the day goes on uneventfully, I dive headfirst into work, taking care of all the paperwork I’d been putting off, running inventory just because I like when things are neat and accounted for. And by the end of the day, I am pleasantly exhausted.
I grab Thai takeout on the way home and collapse onto the sofa with my laptop balanced on my knees.
What now? I did promise Lily I would dial things back with the cleaning. But…I never said anything about reading.
So I log into the darknet, fingers quick and familiar on the keys, and pull up the message boards I keep tabs on. I’m only browsing , I tell myself. A little bit like window-shopping, but without the shopping.
There’s nothing unusual, no chatter worth raising an eyebrow over. After a while, I start to get bored and I fidget on the couch.
Lily’s probably right, I should lie low for a bit.
I log out with a frustrated groan, shut the laptop and turn on the TV to flip through channels until I land on something mindless enough to keep me company. I let the white noise fill the room as I sink deeper into the cushions, eyes fluttering shut long before the credits roll.
The rest of the week goes by the same way, uneventful and blessedly draining. Then Friday arrives, and with it, dinner at the new restaurant Chiara’s been raving about. She invited the whole group. And by the whole group, I mean him , too.
I know that he might be there. But I’ve had a whole week to put myself back together, to remember who I am.
And now I’m ready to face him with a clear mind and a steady smile.
I’m more than ready to prove, if only to myself, that I’m not the girl who breaks simply because someone didn’t choose her. I am in control .
The restaurant is luxurious without being too ostentatious. It is located in a quiet corner of the waterfront and I already know that the view alone will be worth the while. I arrive right on time, dressed in a breezy dress the color of lavender and black heeled ankle boots.
Chiara spots me first and waves me over to the table by the window.
They are all already there. Damiano and Lucas are deep in their usual brotherly banter, or rather, Lucas banters while Damiano hides his amusement behind a scowl.
Lucas is gesturing wildly with a breadstick while Chiara rolls her eyes fondly.
Lily catches my eye and offers a soft smile and a small wave.
She looks serene, glowing even, one hand resting unconsciously on the curve of her belly.
Then there’s him.
Matteo.
He’s at the far end of the table, half-turned, in conversation with Damiano and Lucas, one hand casually draped over the back of the empty chair next to him.
He’s in a black suit, no tie, shirt collar open just enough to show the swirls of dark ink creeping up his neck, and my stomach clenches in spite of myself.
His dark hair is swept back, jaw shadowed in that permanent five-o’clock
stubble I swear I can still feel scraping over my skin. He doesn’t look up.
Thank God .
But I feel him, the awareness of him crackles like static before lightning, coiling around my belly to travel south to my— Stop, Erin!
I plant a radiant smile on my face, hug Lily and Chiara, and wave a general greeting around, the same way I always do.
Then I drag a chair from a neighboring table and place it beside Lily.
When I slide into the plush seat, I am the same cheery self as usual.
If anything, I sparkle harder, letting my energy bubble to the surface.
I glide into the conversation effortlessly, teasing, joking, smiling wide enough to convince even myself.
I talk to everyone, I make Lucas laugh so hard he nearly snorts water.
I compliment Chiara’s earrings. I even offer Damiano a mock-innocent grin when he raises a brow at something snarky I say.
I’m my usual sunshine and sass, radiating nothing but light.
But I never once look at Matteo.
Not when I glimpse his fingers brushing the rim of his glass like he is thinking too hard. Not when his low voice rumbles something I don’t quite catch. Not even when I feel his gaze on me, heavy and scorching, leaving my skin tingling and my stomach roiling.
He doesn’t exist tonight.
Because I’ve already been broken once, and it has cost me to build myself up again. This mask of joy, this bright armor is my way forward. My way of saying you don’t get to break me .
So I talk and I laugh, and I make everyone feel like they’re the only person at the table when I speak to them.
Except him. I don’t speak to him once.