“What did he hear?”
“That you were forced.”
“It wasn’t exactly like that.”
Again, she is quiet, and I hate that I said that. Now I’ve made it awkward again.
“Julia, I miss you. I wanted to know if you wanted to come over.”
“To where you live with Matteo Amante. The gangster.”
“To where I live, yes.”
“Yeah, I’ll come, but not because of anything more than curiosity,” she says through the phone.
“Curious of what?”
“Oh, the reason you would fight to get out of one cage just to thrust yourself into a different one.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Oh, no . . .?” she trails off for emphasis. I could argue this all day with her, but when I don’t respond to her taunt, I can hear her let out a sigh. “Tell me where and when.”
“It’s actually outside the city. I’ll send a car for you.”
“Umm. That works.”
I can hear the judgment in her voice. It’s there clear as day, ringing in each second in which we don’t speak.
“He’ll be there soon. See you soon.”
I hang up before she can say anything else. Knowing I need to tell Matteo, I head down the stairs to look for him. There is a good chance he is already gone, but someone will be able to relay the message.
That’s when it dawns on me that I don’t even have my husband’s cell phone number.
I find Luka in the office I know from my “staycation escapades.”
“Hi, Luka. My friend Julia needs to be picked up.”
“On it, Mrs. Amante.”
Hearing him call me by my married name still sounds strange in my ears.
It feels odd to me, yet feels right.
After I’m done with that, I head to the kitchen to grab some coffee and breakfast.
I find Francesca inside. She freezes at my footsteps.
“Oh. Mrs. Amante. I didn’t know you were up for the day. Please accept my apology. If you go to the dining room—”
“No need to set the table and make it formal. I can eat here.”
Since I’ve spent so much time in this room with Matteo, it would feel weird to be in the formal dining room.
She looks confused and shaken by my decision.
“Mr—”
“It’s fine. I don’t want to get you in trouble. I just didn’t want to be alone,” I admit.
She gives me a small smile and nods. “Okay, I’ll set you up right over there.”
She moves around the room and grabs everything I’ll need, then she sets off to grab my coffee. “What would you like to eat?”
“Whatever is easy. Also, I have a friend coming soon.”
“I’ll make sure to make a nice lunch for two.”
A few minutes later, she brings me over a bowl of Chia pudding with fresh fruits and coconut. It’s perfect.
“Thank you so much. . .” She goes to turn around, but I don’t want her to leave quite yet. “Francesca.”
She looks back at me. “Matteo said you’ve been with him for years.” Her eyes widen a smidge, and I realize my mistake right away. She’s afraid I know about her past. “I just wanted to know about Matteo.”
“I can’t speak of him.” Her answer is firm.
“No. You misunderstand me. He did a lot for me this past week, and I want to do something nice for him. I figured if anyone knows what he likes.”
“I’m not sure I can help.” I nod and look down. “But I’ll think about it.”
“Thank you.”
Francesca then leaves the room, and I’m alone.
The same outcome as if I ate in the dining room, but here I have great memories. Memories that make me blush, but still, they keep me company.
I do want to do something nice for him. Hopefully, she will be able to help. If not, maybe Giana can.
I’ll need to call her one of these days.
Matteo mentioned giving me her number.
She could be a good person to have in my corner. Plus, I need to expand my social circle if I want to make this work here.
Time passes slowly as I eat alone. Soon I’m placing my dish in the sink and heading back into the main part of the house. I can’t wait to show Julia around.
This house is gigantic. Larger than the governor's house, and then the estate I grew up in before my father traded our Georgian colonial for an even larger one. One with giant pillars, he can only hope will lead him to the largest one.
It’s good to see her. I didn’t realize how much I missed Julia until she was standing in front of me again. I throw my arms around her neck; she lets out a tiny giggle.
As soon as we stop hugging, she finally pulls back, and that’s when she looks around.
“This is where you’ve been living?”
“Yes. This is Matteo’s house, and I guess it’s now mine.”
The foyer around us grows silent. Like a pregnant pause, as I wait for her to say more, but when she doesn’t, I decide to speak instead.