Redeemed (Dirty Air 4)

She shakes her head. “You made a mistake.”

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes slide from the journal to my face. The color of her irises looks more vibrant than ever, the blue flecks shifting from sapphire to aqua.

My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for her response.

“You can’t wish for something I already have.”

I never thought one sentence could carry this much meaning. It’s like Chloe set off a serotonin bomb in my brain.

She smiles wider at whatever look I have on my face. “I love you. I’m so in love with you. The kind of love that does leave me desperate in a way that makes me think I’m going crazy.”

I stand and pull her into me, landing a soft kiss against her lips. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Santiago Alatorre.”

“I’ll never get used to you saying it.”

Her smile drops a fraction. “I don’t know whether to be afraid or happy.”

“Stick with happy. Always happy.”

“I am, but I also can’t help being afraid,” she whispers.

“Why?”

“Because there are two kinds of loves out there.”

“Which are?”

“The love that flourishes and the love that kills.”

Something inside me withers away at her words, forcing reality to crash back down around me. It erases the elation I felt from Chloe’s admission of her love.

I desperately want to have the first kind of love with Chloe, but I can’t help worrying about the latter. Not because I would intentionally hurt her. There is only one thing threatening whatever we have built with each other. And secrets have a way of destroying the loveliest things, and I wonder if mine is the most deadly of all.

43

Chloe

Something about Matteo is off today. I can’t put my finger on it, but he barely looks at me. It’s as if he’s not really here, even though I sit on the couch across from him. It was weird at first when he lacked any kind of enthusiasm as I showed him photos of me growing up. The notion stung, but I chalked it up to him not feeling well. But now, he doesn’t even smile when he talks about Giovanni. And I know how much he loves Giovanni.

“Are you okay?” I fidget with my hands.

He shakes his head as if it can make whatever he is thinking about disappear. “No.”

I freeze. “What’s wrong?”

He sighs. His gaze penetrates me and pins me to my seat. “I have something to tell you.”

Oh, God. This can’t be good. The last time someone had something to tell me, I ended up in the back of a cop car because of Ralph.

“Yes?” I breathlessly whisper.

“I haven’t been fully honest with you.”

“What do you mean?” I somehow get the words out despite the tightness in my throat. Every muscle in my body locks up, and I find it difficult to breathe easily.