Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 102566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
"Eleanora, what's this doing here?" I point to the supplies.
Eleanora guides me to the couch and places a sketchbook in my hands.
"No, I don't want to draw," I tell her.
She insists, pushing them both into my hands again.
With a groan, I open the sketchbook and stare at the empty paper. I don't know if I can still do this. I don't know if it will still feel like therapy to put my feelings on paper. But my hand holding the pencil begins to glide of its own accord, sketching out a scene.
Eleanora watches with a big grin.
I barely hear the knock when it comes, but when I raise my eyes and see Nicoletta standing before me, I quickly put down my pencil and switch my attention to her. "I was just thinking about you," I manage, feeling the flush of embarrassment creeping back into my cheeks.
"Sure," she says it sarcastically and comes to sit down on the sofa next to me, keeping a safe distance between us as if I'm somehow contagious. "I need to talk to you about something."
"What's that?"
"There's a wedding rehearsal dinner coming up," she admits reluctantly. "I need you to take my place?"
"What?" My eyes widen. "Why would I do that?"
She looks at me, not masking the contempt she feels. "Because someone has to. I can't go. I just got my monthlies."
I nod, absent-mindedly wondering when the last time was for me.
Nicoletta gets up. "That's all I wanted to say."
"Wait!" I realize how desperate I sound as I cry out, and reach for the sketchbook I was holding before she came in. "Will you let me show you something first?" I know she doesn't want to hate me, even though I've given her every reason to do so.
She hesitates, then stares at my sketchbook with curiosity nevertheless. "What's that?"
"I drew you." I open to the page I was working on before she came in. The sketch is almost finished. Nicoletta looks beautiful as she stares at the viewer, and her eyes speak of hidden secrets she refuses to share with anyone. I tear out the paper and hand it to her. "I know it's not much. But I want you to have it."
She takes the torn out paper in her hands and studies the drawing critically. She keeps raising her eyes to me, as if she's unsure I really did this. "It's beautiful."
"Thanks, it's nothing."
"It's not. You're very talented." She purses her lips as if admitting that hurts her somehow. "Thanks."
"Nicoletta?" I ask softly. "Do you think we'll ever be able to... be friends?"
She hesitates, finally shrugging. "I don't know. If I marry Adrian, probably not."
"Do you like him?"
"Of course I like him, he's my fiancé," she replies stiffly.
"Nicoletta."
She raises her eyes to mine.
I implore her to be honest, at least in here, with me, "Won't you tell me the truth? No one can hear us in here."
She sighs, shrugging again. "I don't have a choice, Marzia. Whether I like him or not, I'll have to marry the man."
"Is there someone else you'd rather..."
She doesn't answer, turning her back to me so I can't see her true emotions painted all over her face. "I have to go now. I shouldn't be spending so much time with you."
"But Nicoletta, don't you think we could both use a friend?" I whisper. "We're all alone here. We could help each other."
"And how exactly are you going to help me?" she asks bitterly, looking at me over her shoulder. "I've already told you too much."
"You haven't told me anything!"
"Adrian suspects me, Marzia." She faces me, and the pain is written all over her. "If he finds out the truth, I'm going to be ruined."
I’m stunned as I stare at her. "The truth about what?"
She sighs, running a hand through her blonde locks. "Let's just say everything isn't as it seems."
"With your father?"
"That too," she mutters. "Just—don't get me in trouble. This wedding has to happen. If it doesn't, I'll lose everything."
My heart hurts for her. She never told me the exact reason she's so determined to marry Adrian, but I know she's dead-set on it happening, even though she doesn't feel the same way I do about Adrian. "Maybe if you told me what's going on I could help," I say again.
"I can't. It doesn't just concern me, it concerns papa as well," she admits brokenly. "I have to protect him at all costs, and the only way for me to do that is to marry Adrian."
We stand there in silence as I contemplate her words. I understand the grave situation, and I realize there's no way we can be friends. Not when we both want the same man ‒ albeit for different reasons. "Okay," I finally manage. "Do you want me to stay out of your way?"
"I think that would be for the best," Nicoletta mutters. "Don't take it personally. In another world, we could have been friends."