Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 151410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
“Is anyone safe, Nevio? Is there a limit to what you’re capable of because recently I fear there isn’t.”
I should have lied, but I didn’t want to. “I don’t know. I wish I did, but I don’t, not one-hundred percent.” I shrugged. “Are you absolutely sure you’d never hurt the people you loved?”
“Yes,” he said firmly. I wondered if his certainty really came from conviction or because he thought by saying it aloud, it would become true.
“If I thought I could ever hurt our family, I’d leave and never come back, Dad,” I said finally, because it was true.
“You better do,” he murmured. His eyes reflected pain. “Don’t force my fucking hand. It would kill your mom. It would kill Greta.” He swallowed, his hold on my throat tightening. “It would kill me.”
“You know how good I am at killing, Dad,” I said.
I glanced at my watch once more but there was still no sign of Nevio. He was running late. Thirty minutes late, to be exact. I had to leave for work in about twenty-minutes and Carlotta in about ten minutes for college. Diego was picking her up as usual and taking her there.
“He hasn’t even received my text yet,” I muttered, glaring down at my phone.
A stupid part of me worried something had happened to him that stopped him from being on time, when I knew it was simply Nevio being Nevio. I could see his promise to give us a real chance slipping away. I wasn’t sure if he couldn’t do it or if he didn’t want to. It was probably a combination of the two. My heart ached and my belly felt hollow as I considered what this meant. I’d made my boundaries very clear to Nevio, and I wouldn’t budge this time. I didn’t care if my body burned up for his touch or my dreams replayed the pleasure he’d given me. I didn’t care if this meant giving up on Nevio and me for good because the other option meant giving up on me. I wouldn’t do that, not even for Nevio. He had done nothing to deserve it, and I doubted there was ever a moment when someone was truly worth it to give up on everything that makes you you.
Carlotta put down her backpack on the counter with a quiet sigh. “Maybe this is what you feared, that he’s pulling back completely, that he got cold feet after he promised you progress. Maybe him ghosting you is really the sign you need.”
“I don’t need another sign to know that a relationship between Nevio and me is not going to work. I need someone to watch Battista, and that someone should be his father.”
Carlotta nodded, her expression compassionate, but I could tell she also thought it was partly my fault. And she was right. I should have kept the promise to myself after the party. Instead, I’d fallen prey to Nevio’s seduction. Who knew that stalking me and driving me to the brink would turn me on?
I pressed my lips together, then I nodded. “You’re right. I made excuses for him for far too long. I enabled him to stay irresponsible because he had me for his responsibilities.”
Carlotta came over to me and hugged me. “If he doesn’t show up today and doesn’t have a very good excuse, you need to tell his parents about Battista.”
I nodded, and Carlotta pulled back. She kissed my cheek. “I really need to go or Diego will come up. He’s already suspicious about why I never invite him in.”
“I know. And thanks for always having my back.”
Carlotta smiled, then she turned and went over to Battista in his playpen to kiss his forehead before she grabbed her backpack and left. Battista pulled himself into a very unsteady standing position and looked at me hopefully. I went to him and picked him up, then blew a raspberry on his chubby cheek, which caused him to giggle uncontrollably. I’d be late for my internship, and Doc Gentile wouldn’t be impressed at all. I set Battista down despite his protests and picked up my cell phone to call the hospital. After I’d closed the kitchen door to avoid Battista disturbing me, I called in sick.
I could hear that he thought I was faking it, and of course, he was right. I went back into the kitchen where Battista had started bawling because I’d left him alone. He stopped once I picked him up again. Singing “Wheels on the Bus”, I tried to call Nevio again, but the call didn’t go through.
Battista babbled along with the song, a bit of drool running down his chin thanks to his teething.
“Your father is an idiot,” I murmured.
Battista chortled as if I’d told him a joke, which unfortunately wasn’t the case. My phone rang, and my eyes widened thinking it was Nevio. Instead, “Dad” flashed on my screen.