Chapter 27
It's been exactly two weeks since Emma told me she loves me, but that we couldn't be together because we were too different.
In the three months we spent together, everything was so perfect that I thought we'd be fine now and finally be happy.
But then one day she shows up and hits me with words that still hurt today, words I can't wrap my head around.
I've tried to come up with countless reasons and understand why she rejected me like that, but I still haven't found any.
I thought about going after her in New York, but Owen talked me out of it.
I told him everything that happened, everything I heard, and even he couldn't understand why she rejected me.
I talked to Carter to find out if she was seeing someone, and all he told me was that she'd been quieter and that one day he saw her with her ex-boyfriend leaving work.
So I figured they'd gotten back together, but that still didn't explain everything she said to me, not after all the moments we shared.
And I believe her when she said she was alone, that there was no one in her life during the time she spent there.
I try to stick to my normal routine, but she keeps invading my thoughts and taking over my mind most days.
I'm not going to be able to forget her, but I'll have to.
I've always been a practical man, one who doesn't let himself get emotionally involved, confident in my feelings, but I have to admit that ragazza messed with all of that.
My days aren't the same anymore. I've literally become a workaholic, thinking only about work.
The house in Venice has been closed since Emma left.
I moved to my apartment in Rome, the one above the restaurant, and that's where I've been staying.
My mother suggested I stay with her for a while, but I don't want to bring her my problems—at least not this one.
The only one putting up with me right now is Owen. Sometimes I call him just to break from the routine a bit. I've been trying to distract myself, and it seems to be working. And today, as it happens, he needs my help—the same kind as always.
“Feel like going to an underground bar today?” he says as soon as I answer.
“Do I even have a choice?”
“I'll pick you up in an hour, be ready. After that, we're going to my friend's club.”
“I'm not in the mood for a club today. I've been working too hard and I'm exhausted.”
“Figure it out. See you soon.”
And he hangs up. So I head for the shower, turn on the water and adjust the temperature.
After I'm done, I pick out something casual to wear.
I notice I've lost a few pounds, but that doesn't matter now.
When I'm ready, Owen texts that he's waiting for me.
I grab my wallet and phone and head out, locking the apartment behind me.
“So, what's the deal today?”
“These hearings that never end. They canceled the other one, didn't tell me why, so now I need to find out what's going on.”
“You're never going to give up, are you?”
“You've asked me that several times, and the answer's always the same: no. As long as I can get in their way, I will.”
“Doesn't that just make you suffer more? I mean, if you tried to move on with your life, wouldn't you feel better?”
“Look who's talking. You've been moping around for exactly a month, suffering over love and refusing to move on and find someone to fill the void the redhead left behind.”
“It's not that easy. You know I hadn't gotten involved with anyone in a long time, and I'm not about to start now, especially just to fill some void.”
“Well, there you go—that's my answer to your question. Until I settle this, I won't move on. We're here. I'll try to be quick.”
We get out of the car, and I look around.
This time he really outdid himself—a bar that's falling apart, and a good distance from home.
When we walk in, I'm hit by the strong smell of cheap beer mixed with cigarettes, which makes my stomach turn.
I head to the bar and order a whiskey, which is served right away, and I stay there watching the people.
Women in tiny dresses throwing themselves at anyone who'll look, men with hard expressions staring us down.
I hope Owen doesn't take too long, because I don't like this place one bit.
I'm standing at the bar facing the bartender when I feel someone sit down next to me, but I don't look.
I order another whiskey, which is served right away, and then I hear a voice.
“Hey there, handsome. What's a guy like you doing in a place like this?”
I don't answer. I'd rather stay lost in my own world, sipping my drink.
But at some point, the girl grabs my glass and brings it to her lips, draining it completely.
I glance at the guy who served me before, and he sets another glass in front of me.
Then I turn to the girl—pretty, I'll give her that—and say:
“I'm not interested, so get lost.”
“Ah, so the handsome one can talk. I can help you with your problem—or better yet, help you forget it,” she says, placing her hand on my thigh. I look down at her hand, and she realizes that today is really not a good day.
“I already said no, so you'd better leave.”
My expression hardens as I speak, which scares her.
Despite my being polite about it, she raises her hands in surrender and leaves.
I breathe a sigh of relief. All I want is some peace, and that seems hard to come by.
I look over to where Owen is sitting and see they're wrapping things up.
My friend stands and starts walking toward the exit, and I head that way too after paying for my drinks.
“So, how did it go this time?”
“Same as always, but now the daughter's decided to step in and hire another lawyer. She doesn't know me, though—doesn't know what I'm capable of. So let's enjoy the night.”
We head to the club, where security greets us and escorts us to the VIP area. I go straight to the bar and grab a drink. Owen's sitting at a bistro table near the glass wall, so I make my way over.
I start looking around, and the memory hits me—Emma dancing down there a few months ago. I still don't know what she did to me, how she cast this spell. Maybe it was the way she said goodbye. God, I'd love to see her again. Owen's voice snaps me out of my reverie.
“Thinking about her again. I know that look.”
“I just can't wrap my head around the way everything happened.”
“Let it go, Mattia. Carter saw her with her ex-boyfriend. Maybe that's why.”
“No, there's more to it than that.”
“So what do you want? To find out what really happened when she already gave you an explanation?”
“It doesn't matter. I just need to hear it from her one more time—everything she told me the other day.”
“You know my opinion, but you're old enough to know what you're doing.”
“What, so now you support me going to New York?”
“No, I'm against it, but if you want to go there and get hurt again, there's nothing I can do to stop you.”
Those words stay with me. Should I go there, see how she's doing, try to get something out of her?
Owen drops me off at home. I go in, pour another whiskey, and sink into the couch with Emma on my mind—everything she told me before she left.
I remember all the moments we spent together during the three months she stayed here.
How happy she was. Our nights together, the dinners we cooked side by side, her confession that she loved me.
With all of that running through my head, I decide to go to New York.
I want to see her again. I want to hear it from her one more time—that she doesn't want to be with me.
I feel like an idiot going after her, even after being rejected. Where's that tough guy reputation I always had, huh? I think what I feel for her is drowning out everything else. Right now I'm leading with my heart and leaving reason behind.