The sting intensifies when she closes the door behind her, theclickbarely audible over the blood rushing through my ears.
Every fiber of my being screams to chase after her, to work this out right here and now. She’s the love of my life, and if she didn’t accept his marriage proposal, perhaps there is still hope for our happily ever after.
But I ignore the instinct, curling my hands into fists as I stand my ground, staring at the plane’s lights becoming slightly brighter in the sky.
The longer I stand here, the more abundantly the tears multiply in my eyes, but rather than give into temptation and allow my body the release of emotion it so badly craves, I refuse to let them fall.
Not anymore than they already have.
Instead, I begin to sort through the madness in my head so I can think clearly and problem solve as I have been taught to do my entire life.
Because one thing is for certain, I will never love another as I love Vincenza Paladino and I must do everything I can to ensure that she knows that.
Even if that means getting my hands dirty.
Chapter 33
Vinnie
Today has been the longest day of my life. The pit in my stomach has been a permanent fixture since I walked out of Sly’s apartment, reluctant to give him the space he asked for.
It hurt to walk away, even if it was only for a short time.
I know he’s hurting—and I am, too. What August did was cruel and horrible, and like an idiot, I didn’t even have the quick-wit to shut him down on the spot.
Not with the eyes of hundreds of people on me, watching through rose-colored glasses.
What’s that saying about going into shock?
Is there even a saying? There should be.
Foolish. That’s the only word I can use to describe myself.
My eyes burn, red and raw from the constant tears that have flowed. My sinuses ache. My jaw hurts fromgritting my teeth. It should go without saying that I slept horribly last night—tossing and turning in between tears, crying myself to sleep as I replayed the events of the evening in my head.
How could I have been so stupid?
How had the words not formed to shut August down?
Cecilia cried with me when I recounted everything that had happened, rubbing my head in a motherly way as I lay in bed sobbing.
It’s late afternoon now and I’ve been curled up on an oversized chair, wrapped in a blanket, as I stare out of the window blankly, watching the city below me.
I’m too high up to see the faces of those who are out there living their lives as though mine isn’t falling apart, but the busy city never wavers as people go about their Saturday.
“Are you hungry?” Cecilia asks, handing me a steaming cup of tea.
I take it, my hands wrapping around the warm mug, bringing me the smallest bit of comfort. “No, not at all.”
“You need to eat.”
“I need to speak to Sly.”
“Still no response?”
Looking down at my lap, I shake my head no.
I’ve sent him countless messages, all of which have gone without a response. Each one making my heart feel more and more like a hollow vessel.
