6

Both Tatiana and I flinch when Roger opens the car door and leans in. “Everything’s clear,” he reports, his eyes scanning both of us. “Some drawers are open in the bedroom, but other than that, the place is empty. He’s taken all his belongings. I doubt he’ll come back, but I’ll arrange for one of the guys to change the locks, just in case.”

“Thanks,” I say quietly as he returns the key. “I appreciate you checking.”

“Not an issue.” He extends a hand, helping me out of the car. Once I’m on my feet, he reaches back to assist Tatiana. “Let’s move, princess. I’m not staying here all night.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Tatiana mutters as she exits the car. “I don’t need a ride home in the morning. I’ll arrange something else.”

“I’ll be here at eight. Don’t think about finding an alternative, or I’ll inform Daddy that you’re disregarding my instructions and your safety might be compromised.” His tone is harsh, a stark contrast to how he’s treated me. “Be ready, or face the consequences.”

“Whatever,” she whispers, joining me as we head toward the entrance of my apartment building. The tension between them is palpable—she wants to throttle him, and he’s clearly irritated with her.

He waits until we’re inside before driving off, leaving us to tackle the two flights of stairs slowly. After a few minutes, we reach the second floor. Thankfully, my apartment is just around the corner. We stop outside the door, and Tatiana slumps against me.

“I didn’t plan on cardio tonight,” she says, huffing. I can’t disagree.

The keys jingle as I select one and insert it into the lock. When it clicks, I turn the knob and push the door open. I hold my breath, my heart feeling heavy.

“I hate him,” Tatiana says as she heads for the kitchen to grab some water, while I cautiously step inside. Memories of our time together replay in my mind—movie nights, arguments, intimacy. The sense of despair overwhelms me. There were good times, but mostly, there was loneliness.

“Roger?” I mumble, only half paying attention.

“Yeah, him too. They’re both jerks,” Tatiana says, lifting her glass.

We’ve repeatedly agreed tonight that I’m better off without Luciano. His cheating forced me to confront the end of our relationship sooner than I would have.

“I guess I should start packing,” I say, kicking off my shoes. I could barely manage the rent with Luciano contributing, and without him? It’s not feasible.

“I don’t want to go to France now,” Tatiana says, pouting and leaning in for a hug, but almost toppling over in her high heels. “Why did he have to break your heart just before I leave?”

“It’s okay. It was going to end eventually,” I tell her. “Take off those shoes before you injure yourself and have to hobble around on crutches during your trip.” I find it easier to focus on her needs than deal with my own emotions.

I cried my heart out in the car after Roger picked us up. It wasn’t just about the end of the relationship. It was the betrayal and lies. I invested so much into being with him that I lost sight of who I was and what I wanted. I compromised my standards for someone who didn’t care about me, and I discovered the hard way.

Tatiana’s eyes light up with excitement.

“I’m not sure I like that look,” I admit.

She grins widely. “You probably don’t, but I don’t care because I’ve got the best idea ever.”

“Go on,” I say, gesturing for her to continue.

“Okay, listen up.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “You should come to France with me. It’d be way better than sticking around here and dealing with that jerk. We could shop, hit the beach, and eat all the pastries until we can barely move.” She clasps her hands over her chest, her eyes sparkling.

I can’t help but smile at the thought. For a brief moment, I can almost see us doing that.

But then reality sets in. As tempting as it is to escape for a month, especially if it means leaving Luciano and everything behind, there’s the practical side to consider. Adult responsibilities are a buzzkill.

“I can’t. I’m starting a new job soon, and calling in for the entire first month doesn’t seem like a good start. Plus, I need the money. From now on, I’ll be footing all the bills myself.” The words nearly catch in my throat, but I push them out.

The realization that I spent five years with someone who ultimately betrayed me hits hard.

Tatiana scowls. “I could help with that—”

“No,” I cut her off. Her shocked expression is clear. I take a deep breath before continuing. “It’s my life, my responsibility. I need to handle things on my own. I appreciate you wanting to support me, but I need to manage this myself.”

“What will you do then? Where will you live?” She’s clearly worried, probably more than I am. Her chin quivers, and her concern about leaving me here alone is evident. “I can’t leave knowing you’re struggling. What if he tries something?”

“I’ll manage,” I reassure her. “I could always move back home. My dad would definitely take me in.” I try to sound optimistic, but the thought fills me with disappointment and dread.

I could tough it out and save up for a decent place eventually. My father would welcome me back, but the thought of moving back after managing on my own is daunting. He’s been eager for me to return since I first left, and I worry he’d find ways to convince me to stay, citing every possible danger of living alone.

“You know how it would be. No offense, but your dad is extremely overprotective. How can you go back to that after being independent for so long?”

“You’re not helping,” I say with a wry smile.

Tatiana kicks off her shoes and snaps her fingers. “Wait, I’ve got it.” She heads into the bedroom, unzipping her dress.

“What now?” I ask, following her.

I glance around the room. Roger was right; Luciano left drawers open and empty hangers behind. At least he didn’t damage anything.

“What’s this brilliant idea of yours?” I prompt.

Tatiana chuckles, clearly absorbed in her thoughts. “What if you stay at my place, in my wing, while I’m away?”

Whoa.

I pause, rifling through my dresser for clean pajamas for both of us. “I’m not sure about that…”

“Why not? It’s perfect,” Tatiana says, flopping onto the bed after clearing away some hangers.

Our bed. The thought makes me wince. I need to stop fixating on him and what was lost. The questions swirling in my mind—how long he was cheating, whether he ever brought someone else here—are overwhelming. I’m on the verge of being sick.

Tatiana continues, her excitement evident. “You’d have the whole wing to yourself. My dad’s usually tied up with work, so he won’t mind. It would give you time to find a new place without rushing. Plus, you could even stay long-term if you wanted. The house is huge; we could stay in our separate wings and be roommates.”

On one hand, it seems like an ideal solution. I’d have a place to stay without the immediate pressure of finding a new home while settling into my job. On the other hand, even with the alcohol making things feel lighter, I’m wary. Living with Gianni without Tatiana there is a risky idea. What was once a harmless attraction could become something more complicated now that I’m single.

I chew on my bottom lip, torn between the practical benefits and the potential pitfalls. The weight of the decision feels heavy, making it hard to breathe.

Did he see me? Did he know I was watching him on the patio with that woman?

I try to convince myself that he didn’t actually notice me. That it was all in my head. That to him, I’m still just his daughter’s friend, a kid—nothing more. But what if he did see me? Why hasn’t he confronted me if he knew?

The other issue is living so close to the man I’ve admired for years. It might add a bit of excitement and thrill to my otherwise mundane days. Plus, I’d rather not spend all my time dwelling on my breakup with Luciano.

“It’s better than moving back in with my dad,” I admit. I love him, but he’s been different since my mother died—not in a grieving way, but in a way that’s left him angry and bitter. The unresolved murder of my mother haunts him deeply.

As a police officer, he’s obsessed with solving every crime, and I can’t imagine the toll it takes on him. I’ve come to terms with my mother’s death and accepted that I can’t change the past. What matters now is the future. My father, however, remains stuck in his grief.

Staying with Tatiana is looking more appealing by the minute.

“We’ll need to check with your dad first,” I suggest.

“Please.” Tatiana scoffs as she heads to the bathroom. “I doubt he’ll even notice you’re there.”

My throat tightens, recalling the intense look in Gianni’s eyes when he was with that woman—the lust and desire. This idea feels risky. Because deep down, I want him to notice me. I want him to feel the same longing I do. I want him to see me as more than just Caterina, his daughter’s friend.