“I have never lied to you, mia preferita. I see no reason to start now.” I take a deep inhale before offering it back to her.
“Do you ever feel guilty?” She doesn’t say more. She knows I will understand her question. And I do.
From the moment I met Rosie, I’ve been honest with her about my heart and where it belongs.Whoit belongs to. She does not know the details—something I decided to omit, and she respected by never pushing for more information—but my intentions have never been to lead her on.
Rosie and I began sleeping together shortly afterwe met, both craving an escape from the pain we harbor deep inside. It has never been romantic between us, purely physical. Our emotional connection is nothing more than a deep-rooted friendship built from a mutual understanding that the only thing we want from each other is exactly the arrangement we have.
Friendship.
Companionship.
And the added benefit of a physical release.
Do I ever feel guilty?
Guilt is not the correct word for what I feel. Heartbroken. Disappointed.Empty. Those are the words that accurately describe what it feels like when I slide inside a woman who isn’t the love of my life.
But not guilt.
“No,” I tell Rosie honestly. “Sometimes, when I hold you, my heart shatters again, knowing it is not her I am holding. But she made her choice. Whether it was her choice all along or a decision she made once I asked her to run away with me, I am unsure, but it was her choice all the same. She chose her family.”
Rosie’s head nods against my arm that cradles it. “Makes sense.”
“And you, mia preferita? Does our arrangement make you feel guilty?”
“No,” she says without hesitation. Tilting her head, she looks up at me, her face glowing and bare of makeup. “I won’t ever give him another chance, Sly.”
Slowly, I shake my head. “Never say never. Thestars may align, and things may be different. He could prove to you he is a man worthy of your love.”
Her situation is complicated. The man who shattered her soul is now housed beneath this very roof, and she is legally bound by an overlooked clause in her escrow paperwork to allow him to stay.
“Hell would have to freeze over before I give him a chance. I don’t even want to hear him out at this point.”
“And that is valid. It might change in the future, though, so try to remain open-minded.”
“Do you ever think about going back?” Rosie asks, flipping over onto her stomach. The sheet slides down her back, resting at her waist as she positions her chin on her hands. “To fight for her?”
Taking a deep breath, I squeeze my eyes shut and envision Vincenza.
In my mind, we’re back at the greenhouse, at the castle I took her to on our first excursion away from the city, walking hand in hand. She steps forward, pulling my arm with her so it extends, and she looks back at me with her stunning smile, her two pools of blue shimmering under the sunlight. Her laughter fills my mind, and then the memory fades.
Opening my eyes, I tighten my lips and shake my head. “No. I could never be in the same city as her when she wears the ring of another. It would hurt too badly.”
“What if she ended things and is looking for you?”
“She’s not,” I snap, a little ruder than necessary. “I’m sorry. She is very much still engaged. I won’t denythat I have searched for her name a few times, and it is clear she has not called things off. The wedding is in August.”
The irony is not lost on me that the month they are to be wed shares the name of the bastard she’s marrying.
Rosie leans forward and plants a kiss on my cheek. Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she hops out of it, naked as the day she was born, and bends to pick up her jeans.
“Well, never say never,” she singsongs, throwing my words back in my face as she pulls her pants up her legs, jumping to shimmy them into place before buttoning them. “That’s still several months for her to wake up and realize what an idiot she is. She’d be stupid to let you go forever, Sly. You’re a catch, and any woman who doesn’t see that needs to make an appointment with an optometrist.”
“Thank you,” I tell her as she pulls her shirt over her head, not bothering to put her bra back on.
Her sweatshirt goes on next. Pulling her hair from the hood, she smiles.
Pushing myself up, I lean back against the headboard of the bed. “Are you going back home?” I ask, pulling my phone from the side table to glance at the time.
