In his text earlier he mentioned wanting to ask me something important. I have a pretty good idea what that something might be.
He’s been different since we started college. Different in a way that suggests he wants us to be more than friends. I pretend not to notice, but I do. I see it now as he stares back at me.
I might be an idiot not to want him too. Jacob is handsome and has always taken care of me. But to me he feels like a brother. I can’t see us being more than friends. I can’t feel it either.
Besides… even though no one has ever said this, I get the feeling that no matter how close Jacob is, or what ties bind our families, my father would never allow anything more than friendship between us.
“So… I guess I should talk to you about that something, right?” he says, fidgeting. I tense.
“Yeah, you should.” I want him to tell me what’s on his mind so I can be real with him.
“I was… thinking about us and the relationship we have,” he begins. “We’ve always been great together.”
“Yes,” I answer, biting the inside of my lip. “We have.”
“Emelia, you know I really value you.”
I’m about to tell him I value him too— as my closest friend— when the door to the restaurant bursts open and Frankie, one of my father’s guards, barges through.
The moment our eyes lock I know something is wrong. My nerves spike when he marches over with a heavy thud.
“Emelia,” Frankie urges, “you have to come with me now.”
I frown. “What?”
“Your father needs you to come now.” I look back at Jacob.
“Why, what’s happening?” I prod.
“Just come, now,” he demands with a balled fist, reminding me that while I might be the Balesteri princess, he doesn’t answer to me. He answers to my father.
I stand. Jacob does too. I planned to stay out with him for a little while longer. We didn’t even get to finish our talk.
“It’s okay. You go. I’ll see you in Italia,” Jacob encourages me.
I throw my arms around him, and he plants a kiss on my forehead. He’s never done that before.
“I’ll see you in Italia,” I answer.
“Buonasera.” He gives me a watery gaze brimming with worry.
“Buonasera,” I reply with a little smile.
“Come on,” Frankie pushes, beckoning me to go with him.
I move toward him. He places his hand to the small of my back, ushering me away.
“What about my car?” I ask, glancing over to the parking lot as we step outside.
“I’ll have someone pick it up,” he answers gruffly.
“Frankie, what is going on?” I attempt again, praying Dad hasn’t changed his mind about Italy.
Frankie doesn’t answer, so I don’t ask again. I’m led to the Bentley. Hugo, my father’s second in command, is at the wheel. Frankie opens the back door for me to get in, and once I’m strapped inside, he joins Hugo in the front.
A lump forms in my throat as the car sets off down the drive. I glance back at the diner, seeing Jacob watching me as we pull away.
This is weird, very strange, even for my father. He’s never done this before.