Chapter 2 Divorce

I won't do not forget how long I stood there after Matteo left. Minutes? Hours? Hell, it could’ve been days for all I cared. The silence inside the house was suffocating, urgent down on me like a weighted blanket I couldn’t get out from underneath. I used to assume silence changed into peacefulness. Now, it simply felt like a reminder of the whole thing I’d lost.

My phone buzzed on the desk, snapping me out of my pity party. I wiped my face, selecting it up without even looking on the screen. "Hello?"

"Gianna, wherein the hell are you?" It became Sasha, my high-quality buddy. Her voice turned into sharp, indignant. "You have been purported to meet me at the gym like, two hours ago. Are you severely bailing on me again?"

I’d definitely forgotten about that. Honestly, the last issue I wanted to do proper now become sweat it out in a health club, surrounded by means of peppy health freaks. I let loose an extended sigh, pressing my hand to my brow. "I can’t nowadays, Sasha."

"Wait, are you crying?" She paused, her tone softening right away. "What’s happening?"

I hesitated. I hadn’t instructed anybody about the divorce papers. Not but. Part of me became too ashamed. The other part didn’t need to stand the reality that my marriage had become genuinely over. But Sasha... She’d know something changed the second she noticed my face. There was no factor hiding it.

"Matteo wants a divorce," I finally admitted, the phrases tasting sour on my tongue.

There turned into silence on the alternative quit of the line. I ought to practically pay attention to her processing what I’d simply said. "Wait… what? What the actual fuck?"

"Yeah," I stated, my voice hollow. "He desires to marry Reily."

That’s while she lost it. "You’ve got to be kidding me!" she yelled, and I had to drag the cell phone faraway from my ear to keep away from going deaf. "That complaint? After the whole thing you probably did for him, he’s going to leave you for her?"

"Apparently," I muttered, dropping into the chair on the kitchen desk. "He simply left to pick her up from the airport."

Sasha cursed below her breath. "Okay, no. You’re no longer sitting round your own home, crying over that asshole. I’m coming over. Stay positioned."

Before I should even protest, she hung up. I sighed, tossing my phone onto the desk. I knew there was no factor in arguing along with her. When Sasha made up her mind about something, there was no preventing her.

I sat there for some extra mins, my eyes wandering over the bloodless, present day kitchen that Matteo had insisted on designing himself. It looked more like something out of a mag than a real domestic. Sterile. Empty. Kind of like our marriage, now that I think about it. Maybe that changed into fitting.

By the time Sasha arrived, I’d slightly moved an inch. She barged into the house without knocking, like she always did, her fiery crimson hair piled on the pinnacle of her head in a messy bun. She took one look at me and sighed. "Oh, babe. You appear like you’ve been run over by means of a truck."

"Feel love it too," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

She didn’t waste any time, yanking me out of the chair and pulling me into the living room. "Alright, enough moping. We’re doing tequila photographs. It’s time to numb the ache, at least for tonight."

I raised an eyebrow. "Tequila? Really?"

"Yes, tequila. You need something stronger than wine for this type of heartbreak," she stated, already heading to the bar cart Matteo had insisted we maintain stocked with every kind of alcohol imaginable. At least it'd come in reach now.

I observed her reluctantly, sinking into the couch as she poured photographs of tequila. Sasha exceeded me one, elevating her glass. "To Matteo’s miserable, lonely future. May Reilly sell off him after she realizes what a dick he is."

I couldn’t help but snicker a bit at that. "Cheers," I said, clinking my glass against hers before downing the shot. The burn was instant, spreading via my chest and warming me from the inner out. It became the first bit of comfort I’d felt all day.

"Okay," Sasha said, setting her glass down and settling in next to me. "We want a plan. We’re not just going to allow that asshole to stroll away from this unscathed."

I blinked at her. "What do you suggest?"

She grinned, and I should see that acquainted glint in her eye. Sasha cherished an amazing revenge plan. "I’m pronouncing, he’s no longer going to break out with this. You deserve better than being tossed apart like final season’s fashion. So we’re going to make sure that he regrets this."

I frowned, my mind spinning from the alcohol and the emotional rollercoaster of the day. "I don’t realize, Sasha. I’m not sincerely in the mood for revenge."

"Not but," she said, waving me off. "But accept it as true with me, you'll be. And while you are, I’ve got a few ideas."

I didn’t recognize whether or not to be concerned or intrigued with the aid of that.

We were midway via the tequila bottle whilst Sasha’s telephone buzzed, and she or he frowned on the screen. "Shit. It’s paintings. I gotta take this."

She wandered off into the alternative room, leaving me alone with my mind. I leaned back on the sofa, observing the ceiling. The tequila changed into starting to do its task, making the whole lot feel a bit fuzzy around the rims. Maybe that wasn’t this kind of terrible aspect.

My mind drifted back to Matteo and the manner he’d looked at me whilst he exceeded me the ones divorce papers. So bloodless. So indifferent. Like I’d in no way intended anything to him. I need to’ve visible it coming, right? The symptoms were all there. The past due-night meetings, the “commercial enterprise journeys,” the way he’d stopped searching at me like I was the girl he married and started out treating me like a roommate he barely tolerated.

But the fact was, I hadn’t wanted to see it. I’d convinced myself that if I just tried harder, if I just cherished him sufficient, he’d come back to me. That maybe, simply perhaps, we may want to fix some thing was broken among us.

I became such an idiot.

I changed into such a misplaced idea that I nearly didn’t listen to the knock on the door. Frowning, I drove myself up off the couch and headed to the entryway. I wasn’t looking forward to absolutely everyone else, and it wasn’t like Matteo was going to return every time quickly. So who the hell…

I opened the door, and my coronary heart practically stopped.

Standing on my doorstep, searching like he’d just walked out of a GQ photoshoot, turned into Luca. Matteo’s brother.

He grinned, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the region. "Hey, Gia. Long time no see."

I blinked, completely thrown off. "Luca? What are you doing here?"

He shrugged, his eyes scanning me from head to toe in that way that usually made me experience like he could see right through me. "Matteo known as me. Said he turned back from the airport and requested me to test it on you."

Of direction, he did. Even whilst Matteo wasn’t here, he nevertheless became controlling everything.

"Well, I’m satisfied," I stated, crossing my hands. "You don’t need to test in on me."

Luca smirked, pushing off the doorframe and stepping inside like he’d been invited. "Oh, come on, Gianna. Don’t be like that. It’s been years. Aren’t you going to offer me a hug?"

Before I may want to reply, Sasha regarded at the back of me, her eyes narrowing while she saw Luca. "What the hell is he doing right here?"

Luca raised an eyebrow, searching between the two people with entertainment. "Relax. I’m not here to start a problem. Just ensuring my brother’s quickly-to-be ex-spouse isn’t throwing herself off a cliff."

Sasha rolled her eyes. "Please. Like we’d let you know if she changed into."

I shot her a glance, and she shrugged, unapologetic.

Luca became his attention lower back to me, his expression softening only a little. "Seriously, though. You k?"

I desired to be mad at him. Really, I did. But the priority in his voice stuck me off the defensive. Luca and I had by no means been near, however there has been something approximately the way he became searching at me now that made it tough to live indignant.

"I’m exceptional," I lied, my voice a touch too tender to be convincing.

He frowned, actually no longer buying it, but he didn’t push. Instead, he nodded towards the tequila bottle at the desk. "Looks such as you’ve got your coping mechanisms covered, though."

Sasha snorted. "You don't have any idea."