Chapter 4

The rooftop had a long table and two lounge chairs.

Whiskey and soda sat in the middle of the table, with a windproof glass candle lamp at each corner.

Matteo poured me a drink and slid it over.

"You used to love throwing tantrums at me."

He leaned back in his chair, a smile in his voice.

"Every time you got worked up, I lost all interest in drinking with you."

The city lights drowned out every star, leaving the moon hanging alone in the sky.

I gripped my glass, my fingers tightening bit by bit.

Matteo took a sip, his mood rising.

"Sandro's a bit older now, and you've settled down. We'll have plenty of time for drinks from now on."

"In a while, let's have another baby."

His brows and eyes softened as he said it.

"Hope it's a girl. She'll have your eyes. I'll teach her to ride myself."

He turned to look at me, his gaze as tender as the night we first met seven years ago.

I tipped my head back and drank.

The liquor burned all the way down, hot enough to make my eyes sting.

Matteo was still dreaming about our future.

Someone I could barely get a moment with, and he was still fantasizing about a later.

"Claire, are you okay?"

He finally noticed something was off and put his hand over mine.

"Why so quiet?"

I looked up at him, and for a second I drifted.

So alike. His eyes, this night.

Exactly like that midsummer night seven years ago.

There were no stars overhead that night either, and I hadn't minded one bit.

Because the sun outshines every star. Back then, Matteo was my sun.

But now, the sun had long since sunk below the horizon.

Matteo touched my forehead, then his own.

He murmured, "No fever. Are you tired?"

The warmth of his fingertips lingered on my forehead, and the last bit of hope in my heart gave one final throb.

If I could, I wouldn't want Sandro to grow up without a father.

My heart softened, and I decided to tell him I was leaving.

"Matteo, there's something I need to tell you—"

Sudden footsteps came from the rooftop entrance.

The butler hurried up the steps, his voice urgent:

"Don, Miss Marta cut her hand at the house. The bleeding won't stop."

Matteo shot to his feet.

"What are you standing there for? Get a doctor. Now."

The words I hadn't gotten out sat at the back of my tongue, tasting of blood.

I tipped my head back and drank.

Matteo hurried off without so much as a glance at me.

"Take me to her."

I watched his frantic back and laughed at my own moment of weakness.

Three days ago, Sandro's fever hit a hundred and four.

I held my child and begged him to send a doctor. He called it nothing serious.

Today, Marta cut a finger, and he couldn't wait a single second.

Matteo reached the door, then suddenly stopped.

He turned back, his brows drawing together slightly.

"By the way, what were you going to tell me?"

His eyes kept darting toward the exit, a man desperate to leave.

Seven years of circling around, and I finally saw it clearly.

Matteo isn't my sun. He's just the moon.

No matter how bright the moonlight, it's cold in the end.

"Nothing." I smiled. "Go on. You're busy."

He stared at me for a few seconds.

Maybe because I looked so calm, the impatience in his eyes slowly turned to confusion.

"I'll be back soon. Wait for me."

With that, he turned and went downstairs.

His footsteps faded, one floor at a time.

I sat there until the last sound disappeared, then set down my glass.

In the room, the luggage was already packed.

I kissed the sleeping Sandro, then slept a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

When I woke in the morning, Matteo still hadn't come back.

Good. No need to waste words explaining anything to him.

After breakfast with Sandro, I picked him up and left the estate.

In the car, Sandro leaned against the window and asked me in his sweet, baby voice:

"Mommy, where are we going?"

I pressed my cheek to his chubby little face and said softly:

"We're going to JFK. We're taking a big plane to San Francisco."

Sandro cupped my face in his little hands. "When are we coming back?"

I held him tight and kissed his forehead gently.

"We're not coming back."