Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“You need something?”
“I just. . .I wanted to check if you were okay,” I said, hating the meek lilt in my tone.
He glanced down at his phone again, ignoring me. I didn’t know if it was because we’d slept together or because he’d always been kind up until now, but something about his anger rattled me to my core. It was a quiet anger, the kind that festered until it exploded. I should have left the room and locked myself in mine as I waited for my brother. Instead, I took a step forward.
He looked up again briefly. “I’m fine, Lenora. Go back to bed.”
“You’re not fine.” I reached the edge of the bed, still leaving a good amount of distance between us.
“Go back to bed.” He sighed, going back to his phone.
I sat down at the edge of the bed. He ignored me and continued typing away to whomever he was texting. Maybe he was texting Dominic and acting this way so we could get used to not being near each other when he arrived. That was what I wanted to tell myself, but I knew there was more to this.
“Are you angry with me?” I bit the inside of my cheek and looked down at the white covers, forcing myself not to get emotional.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “No, Lenora, I’m not angry with you.”
I looked up, meeting his gaze, shivering slightly at the coolness I found in it. I wanted to pout and scream and ask why he was treating me this way — like a stranger — after we’d shared so much, but I decided against it. I wasn’t willing to let myself look as weak and helpless as I felt. I kept my eyes on his and searched his face for any sign of it softening. When it didn’t, I stood up and walked to the door.
“Good night, then.” I opened it, shut it behind me, and went to my bedroom.
I shut the door before diving into the bed. Only then did I let myself cry. After a moment, I took a few deep breaths and wiped my face. It felt good to let that out. Dad always said, “big girls don’t cry” and “save your tears for something worth crying over.” I’d stopped crying in front of him when I was eight. Crying was cathartic and healthy and something I enjoyed doing in private. I flipped over to my back and threw an arm over my face, laughing. I was ridiculous. How could I possibly think anything would change between us? I was still who I was and still engaged to be married. I don’t know why I thought last night would change things.
24
LENORA
I woke up at eight, got out of bed, and took a shower. After I brushed my teeth and put my wet hair into a braid, I walked back to the room to dress. My only clothing options in Naples were bikinis, shorts, short dresses used as cover-ups and crop tops, and one maxi dress I had left behind. I laid out my shorts, red bandana crop top, and one of the cover-up dresses, trying to figure out what to wear. In college, I had a friend named Marcy who would go to any lengths to get her crush's attention. If that meant walking around in a towel, she would do it. If I were like Marcy, I would have worn the maxi dress so Rocco could feast his eyes on me every time I bent over. The problem was threefold: I wasn't like Marcy, my brother would kill me, and Rocco was heartless.
I went with the safer choice — a crop top and shorts. Unlike Marcy, who ended up marrying that crush of hers, I had no future with Rocco, so it didn’t matter if I wore this or a bag over myself. I stood in front of the mirror and assessed myself. The pointy part of the bandana went to my navel, so only my shoulders, back, and sides were exposed, and my shorts weren’t scandalous. Because my time in the sun had turned my skin to burnt gold, I only needed to apply mascara and lip gloss. Giving myself a full once-over — my muscular legs, hips, small waist, size B boobs, and hair in a braid — I decided I looked fantastic. Honestly, fuck Rocco Marchetti. I wasn’t here to impress him anyway.
I found him in the kitchen, standing over the stove. I was so shocked by the sight that I froze. He’d laid out a full spread on the island counter: a bowl of mango, chopped-up avocado, toast, scrambled eggs, a bottle of syrup, and whatever he was making now. Pancakes, I guessed from the smell. I wish I hadn’t been as impressed as I was. Dad couldn’t cook to save his life. He didn’t even know how to boil an egg. My brothers cooked sometimes. Gabe’s food was usually burnt or undercooked, so he ordered out often. Dominic was better, but he had a meal delivery service. When he did make something, it was with Rosie’s help. Since I had no indication that he knew I was there, I leaned against the doorway and continued watching him. He was wearing a black shirt that molded to his broad back, so I could see his muscles tensing with every move. I saw his perfect profile when he turned to get something next to him. It wasn’t fair that he was this good-looking. I pushed off the doorway but remained glued there. I didn’t know what to do. Was I supposed to announce my arrival? There were two place settings, so I knew one of them was for me. Maybe he was over whatever he’d been angry about? Maybe he’d go back to the happy Rocco I knew. After all, he was the one who had told me that happiness was a choice he made every day.