Chapter 17
Lennon
Sloane and I are in the backseat of Gunnar’s SUV.
I’m staring out the tinted window at the city lights because I can’t stop the tears rolling down my face, and I don’t want to alarm Sloane.
Whatever devastation she saw when we were reunited had her wrapping her arms around me instead of asking what happened.
I can still smell Sandro, still feel his arms around me, his fingers inside me like phantoms. I already miss him, crave him. I try to discretely wipe at the tears with the back of my hand, but Sloane reaches over and presses a Kleenex in my hand.
When I turn to her, she gives me an encouraging nod. “You’ll get through this,” she whispers. “Remember who you are.”
Yeah, that’s the problem. I do remember. I’m the girl in love with an unavailable mobster.
Gunnar glances at us in the rearview mirror, his arctic blue eyes meeting mine. He sighs. “For what it’s worth, Lennon. He’s just as miserable as you are.”
Sloane snorts. “Good.”
I’m too exhausted, too confused, and too hurt for decorum. “Why is he marrying Giada? Why her?”
Gunnar shakes his head slowly, his attention moving to the road as he makes a right turn. After a few moments of silence, he says, “You know the world he comes from. It isn’t his choice. It’s for an alliance between the families.”
I thought that would make me feel better to hear, but it doesn’t. It just means misery for Sandro, too. And I find I don’t want that.