Chapter 9 #2
He pulls his head back to meet my gaze. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes I haven’t seen since high school. “Please,” he repeats. “It’s safe, at least. I don’t want you going out there, alone, where anything could happen. I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt again.”
The stubborn, angry part of me wants to refuse.
But I feel safe with Nico. He protected me when he didn’t have to. And though I know I’m just opening myself up for even more heartbreak, I know going back to his condo is the smartest decision.
On a soft sigh, I reply, “Okay. I’ll come back.”
He releases a heavy breath. “Okay. Good.” Then, as if he’s afraid if he waits I might change my mind, he quickly stands and reaches out his hand. “Come on, let’s get back upstairs. Okay?”
I could refuse his hand. But I’m mentally exhausted, to the point where doing anything feels like too much effort.
So I accept his help, allowing Nico to pull me to my feet.
Once I’m up, he moves his hand to my back, supporting me.
“Just let me help,” he murmurs. “I know you’re tired. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“It doesn’t,” I mutter.
Or does it?
Because I know I feel a lot safer with his big hand spanning my lower back. With his strong, reassuring presence right beside me, protecting me as we make our way to the elevator.
And I know how my body feels, having him touch me. Like long-dormant sensations are finally waking.
It doesn’t have to mean anything, I remind myself as we walk back into his condo. I’m just coming back here because it’s safer. It doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven Nico. It doesn’t mean I’m not still angry with him.
Once the door shuts behind us, Nico locks it securely and resets the alarm system.
Then he leads me into the living room and over to the couch, guiding my unresisting body down onto it.
“I’m just going to put your suitcase back in the bedroom,” he says.
“And then I thought… Well. If you’re up for it, we could talk. ”
“Talk?” I ask. A hint of bitterness tinges my voice. “Or accuse me of lying again?”
His jaw tightens. “Talk. No accusations, this time.”
I could say no. Say I’m too tired and go hide in the bedroom. But that would only be delaying the inevitable. “Fine. We can talk.”
He gives me a thin smile. “Okay.” Then he grabs my suitcase and hurries down the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Seconds later, he returns. When he sees me still sitting in the same place on the couch, relief flickers in his eyes again.
“Do you want something to eat first?” he asks. “Since I messed up dinner?”
“No thanks.” I don’t think I could eat anything right now, even if I wanted to.
“Anything to drink? Juice? Tea? Coffee?”
“It’s fine, Nico. I don’t need anything.”
He sighs before sagging down on the other end of the couch. “Fine. But if you change your mind, just tell me.”
This abrupt one-eighty is really throwing me off. Not two hours earlier, he was snapping at me—not yelling, to the contrary of what he said—and now he’s acting like I’m a welcome guest instead of the thieving ex he believes me to be.
Or does he?
Could he possibly believe me? Did what I said cause even a sliver of doubt?
“What do you want to talk about?” I ask. Turning towards him, I add, “I thought we said everything already. You think I’m a liar and a criminal. What else is there to say?”
Nico’s features pinch unhappily. “I handled things poorly,” he says after a few moments’ pause. “And I’m sorry about that.”
“Which part? Calling me a liar? Or—”
“Sofia.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “What you told me… I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. My father…”
My heart squinches into a knot. Of course he wouldn’t believe me.
It’s just as I thought it would be all the other times I considered contacting Nico.
Because I’d be lying if I said I never thought about trying to explain.
Not when I was eighteen or nineteen, not when the hurt and resentment was still so great.
But as I got older, I considered it now and again—not in an attempt to rebuild our broken relationship, but for closure.
But I always talked myself out of it. I’d remind myself that no good could come from dredging up old hurts. That Nico didn’t believe me before, so why would he years later? I reminded myself how easily he threw me away, and that I was better off without him.
I was right all along. And my explanation of the truth was just wasting my breath.
“I get it,” I reply quickly. “It’s your father. Of course you wouldn’t—”
“I was eighteen,” he interrupts. “I thought my father could do no wrong. When he told me… I didn’t want to accept it. At first, I insisted he was wrong. But eventually… I believed him.”
My eyes burn again. My nose stings.
“But I’m not eighteen anymore,” Nico continues. “And after what you said… Hearing you… I had to look into it.”
“And?”
His expression grows even more solemn. “There are things that don’t add up. From the police reports, the testimony of the witnesses… Before, I wouldn’t have known where to look. I didn’t have access to—”
“You thought I was a liar. A thief.” My voice wobbles. “You said I used you.”
Nico’s gaze drops to the floor. “This is all so… It’s my father, Soph. If what you’re saying is true, it means he’s been lying to me for half my life. It means he’s no better than a criminal.”
“I know.” Which is why I knew he wouldn’t believe me.
“But.” His gaze raises to meet mine. “Shit.”
Sympathy comes out of nowhere.
I’ve known Elio Parisi was the villain of the story since I was seventeen. But Nico hasn’t. And for him to believe me means changing everything he thought he knew about his father.
“I don’t want to believe he did all that,” Nico says. “But.”
“But?”
“But I don’t think you’re lying, either.”
My heart stutters. “You don’t?”
As Nico looks at me, the years fade away. He’s no longer a thirty-six-year-old man, but the fifteen-year-old boy I met in journalism class—young and insecure and still figuring out who he was.
And that Nico looks scared.
He swallows hard. “I don’t. Which means I need to talk to him. I need to hear the truth.”
“Why would he—”
“He will.”
But I’m not convinced. Why would Elio Parisi admit what he did to his son? He’d have no reason to.
“Soph.” Nico moves to the cushion beside me. His gaze burns into mine. “I know I haven’t given you reason to trust me. But this… Shit. He’s going to tell me everything. I’ll make sure of it.”