“Not yet,” I reply, fighting the urge to study her reaction. I’ve gotten so used to looking at her however much I desired that it’s like fighting muscle memory at this point.
“Okay,” she mumbles, and my hand twitches in her direction.
No. I can’t intertwine our fingers to comfort her. I can’t wrap my arm around her shoulders or touch her in any way. I’ve gotten used to feeling her skin pressed against mine, used to the way she melted into me. It will be hard to relearn the boundaries we had before she moved in with me.
It was raining the past three days in London, but the sun is shining again, warming and brightening up the day. I hate it. The urge to scream at the sun for making an appearance when I’m fucking miserable is strong. I wish for rain again so that I don’t have to be a part of this happy day anymore. Nothing about it is happy, except for the kiss Chiara and I shared before everything went to shit.
“Are you upset with me?”
Her question stops me from walking, and I realise I’ve been frowning since she appeared in the kitchen. She’s not used to seeing me like this around her anymore, just like I’m not used to putting up this facade with her. I like the person I am with her a lot more than the closed-off man I had to be for the last twenty-two years of my life.
“No, Chiara, I’m not upset with you.” It’s the truth.
No part of me blames her for pushing me away. Whether she’s doing it to protect herself or because she’s truly not interested in me doesn’t change that she doesn’t want to be with me. I will wrap my head around it sooner or later. All I need is time and… space. Space I would never take because I can’t breathe properly without her near me.
I fucking hate everything that comes with having feelings for someone.
It’s irritating.
“I’d understand if you’re upset with me, you know?” she says, and I let my head turn her way, feeling a sharp pain strike through me at the sight of her green eyes.
“I’m not,” I assure her, but she doesn’t believe me.
“I feel like you are.” Is she really trying to argue aboutmyfeelings?
“And yet, I’m not.” Chiara narrows her eyes at me, crossing her arms in front of her chest a second later to appear more intimidating.
“You definitely are. I can see it in the way you’re staring at me,” she replies, annoyed with me and sad because of her words. It only frustrates me more.
“I’m not upset with you, Starling,” I reply. Determination crosses her face, and I prepare for the fight I know we’re about to have.
“You are, which is why you need to tell me what you need from me to make this better,” she says, and I slap my forehead with the palm of my hand.
“But I’m not upset with you,” I say through gritted teeth, so she throws her hands into the air, groaning at me.
“The more you keep it to yourself, the worse it will be after. We have to figure out what the hell we’re going to do about this thing between us because you’re not the only one who’s done fighting against what they really want,” she blurts out.
“What the hell are you talking about? You don’t want me! You made that perfectly clear earlier,” I reply, and she’s about to respond when a bird lands on her head, causing me to stumble a step backward. “Don’t move,” I tell her and attempt to take it off her, but she raises her hands to stop me. “What are you doing? Let me help!” I say, but she glares at me for a moment, forcing my limbs to freeze in place.
Chiara reaches for the creature—which I now realise is a starling bird—and it steps into her hand, allowing her to bring it in front of her. The longer I study it, the more I realise it is purple, green, blue, and a little yellow. It simply sits on Chiara’s palm, looking up at her as if it’s expecting something from her. My gaze shifts to my little demon, who’s smiling at the bird.
“Did I ever tell you what Mamma said to me after that starling bird flew on my head when we were kids?” she asks, but all I manage to do is shake my head. I’m mesmerized by the connection the bird and Chiara seem to have. “She told me Papa’s favorite animal used to be starling birds,” she explains, and I feel my knees weakening a little. “This little guy has been following me around England for years now. When you went to pick me up from the hair salon, I couldn’t believe my eyes. He was right there, almost like he was waiting for me,” Chiara goes on, and the bird flaps its wings a little.
“How do you know it’s the same bird?” I ask, swallowing hard to get rid of the lump in my throat.
“He’s missing a talon on his right side.” She holds up the bird for me to see, and I notice one of the sharp nails missing from the creature. Holy shit. “I fed him a few times, which is probably the more logical explanation for why he keeps finding me, but, I don’t know. I’d like to think my dad sent him to watch over me.”
That’s exactly what I was thinking. This coincidence is too strong to be ignorant and say it’s impossible her dad has something to do with the bird showing up everywhere.
“Maybe it’s stupid, sorry. I’ve never shared this with anyone. He usually doesn’t land on my head, merely close by so I can see him.”
“It’s not stupid at all, Chiara.”
She smiles at the bird once more before it flies onto my shoulder. I stop breathing while Chiara starts chuckling at my reaction. I don’t mind birds, but this little guy is staring at me like he’s trying to see if I’m good enough for the woman in front of me. He looks ready to report back to her father, who will ensure I have the worst luck in life if I’m not worthy of his daughter. I don’t know if I believe any of these things, but I also know I do notnotbelieve them. I don’t know. My head is all confused with the fucking bird sitting on my shoulder.
“Do you want me to get him off?” she asks with amusement all over her face. Meanwhile, sweat has started dripping down my back.
“Nah, it’s all good. It’s just a bird,” I reply, but, luckily, he flies away a second later, and I can stop pretending not to mind. Thank fuck.
