Chapter five

ELENA'S POV 

I knelt on the cold grass, my shredded knees stinging through my jeans. I scooped carefully at the tiny handful of gray ash that had not blown away in the wind and put it inside the new stone container.

“I am so sorry, Dad,” I thought, hot tears dripped off my chin. “Sorry for loving the wrong person all these years. I am sorry I could not save what little remains of you.”

When I finally got home at sunset my hands were bloody and my heart was completely numb. I climbed the stairs, locked the door to my bedroom and set about erasing every last trace of my secret life with Matteo. I took my old paper diary from under my mattress, threw it into a metal trash can and burned the pages with a lighter until there was nothing left but black smoke. I grabbed a trash bag and tossed every expensive necklace, perfume bottle and birthday gift I’d ever bought him. Finally, I took out my sharp scissors and cut every hidden picture of us together into tiny, unrecognizable strips.

An hour later, heavy footsteps halted outside my bedroom door. Matteo rapped hard against the wood. "Elena, open the door right away!" Matteo begged from the hallway, rattling the doorknob. “I’ve got to tell you what happened at the cemetery! Valentina was lying to me about what you did!”

I sat on the side of my bed in complete silence. His text messages kept buzzing in my hand. I didn't read a word, opened my phone settings, blocked his phone number and deleted his contact altogether.

“Elena, speak to me!” he shouted again. “We must talk about this!”

I paid no attention to him until his footsteps faded down the stairs.

It was the soft voice of my mother that finally got me to move, the next morning.

“Elena, darling? You awake in there?" my mother asked softly through the wood. “May I come in please?”

I walked across and unlocked the door. The second I saw my mother's worried face my knees buckled under me and I collapsed right into her open arms.

"Oh, my sweet girl," my mother cried, catching me and clutching me to her breast. "What happened? Why are you crying like this?”

“I just need to be with you, Mom,” I cried into her shoulder. “Please let me come and stay with you.”

For the next few days, I slept safely in my mother’s bedroom, as far away from Matteo as I could be. I was really comforted by our quiet time together, organizing my clothes and packing my suitcases for my departure.

“You’re going to have such a wonderful time in Italy, sweetie,” my mother told me folding my winter sweaters. "This study abroad program is just what you need right now."

"I know it is Mom," I replied softly. “I’m actually ready for a change.”

And on the last night in the house my mother smiled and patted my cheek. "Tonight you should sleep in your own room, sweetheart. You need your own space and a good night's sleep before your big trip tomorrow."

“Okay, Mom. Goodnight," I said, kissing her cheek and heading to my bedroom.

About midnight, when I was lying quietly in the dark, the bedroom lock clicked open. Matteo had slipped in with his old spare key. He crossed the room and sat slowly on the edge of my mattress. 

“Elena,” he whispered into the dark, his voice sounding thick and tired. “I am so sorry about everything. In these days of separation from you, I have been perfectly wretched. I can’t stand sleeping alone without you.”

I kept my eyes closed and my breath slow and steady, pretending to be fast asleep. I didn't answer him and he didn't push the matter any further. He simply lay down next to me, put his arms around my waist and gave me a long sad kiss on my temple.

His cell phone rang loudly on the nightstand early the next morning. I opened my eyes to see Valentina's name flashing across his lit-up screen. He picked up on the first ring and yanked his body away from mine forcefully.

“Hello? Yes, I'm awake already," Matteo said into the receiver, then looked down at me with guilty eyes. "I'll be right there to help you."

He put the phone down and turned to me, reaching for my hand. “Elena, pay attention to me. Let me tell you why she's calling--"

"Just go," I said coldly, not turning on the lights, staring past him at the wall. "Leave my room."

Matteo sighed heavily in relief, mistaking my calm, quiet tone for forgiveness. “Gotta run do something for my dad now but I swear I'll be back soon. Wait here for me till I come back, will you?”

"Sure," I said quietly.

When he was gone and the door clicked shut I reached over and turned on my desk lamp. I went into the bathroom, had a long shower, changed into my travel clothes and prepared myself for the day as if nothing had happened at all. I had made up my mind days ago. I would not wait for him again.

I walked over to my desk before I left my bedroom for the last time. I left my bank card – loaded with the three million dollars to pay back his family for my decade of expenses – right in the middle of the wood. Next to the card I left a brief, last letter for Matteo. This time I was the one who chose to leave him first. For once in my life.

Downstairs in the front hall, I said a final goodbye to my mother and Uncle Marco.

“Have a safe flight, kiddo,” Uncle Marco said, pulling me into a tight hug. We are all very proud of you.”

“Thanks for everything, Uncle Marco,' I replied.

My mother took my hands, tears running down her eyelashes. "I'm going to miss you so much my darling girl. text me the second your plane lands!"

I swear I will, Mom. Don't cry," I said, wiping away a warm tear from her cheek.

She fished in her pocket and pressed a small piece of folded paper into my palm.

 “I wrote my old family friend’s contact info on this note for you. Keep it in your pocket, in case you need anything at all while you're over there."

“I’ll keep it safe, Mom. Don’t worry. I said to her, "I love you.”

I stepped outside and got into the waiting taxi. The car pulled away from the curb, my family vanishing from sight, and I looked ahead through the windshield into a bright, hopeful morning sun. I felt ready for whatever came next in my new life away from everything I was leaving behind.

My flight overnight from Milano Malpensa to Florence was quiet and dark. I shut my eyes in my seat and succeeded in sleeping most of the way, allowing the steady roar of the airplane engine to wash over me.

I woke up and looked out the window. A gorgeous Tuscan sunset filled the sky with bright orange and purple clouds. As I watched the sun dip below the unfamiliar landscape, the truth finally settled in my chest. I had actually left Milan and Matteo behind, for good.

To my surprise, the goodbye didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. I felt a quiet sense of real freedom spread through my limbs instead of heavy heartbreak. I even felt a bright flicker of excitement about starting my fresh start for the first time in four long years.

I pulled out my phone and checked my arrival checklist while I waited for the plane to land. As I read through my emails, I realized that the family friend from my childhood that my mother had joked about setting me up with years ago had taken care of the lease for my new apartment and all the basic necessities of living in Florence.

I couldn't even remember the guy's name until I unfolded the note my mother had slipped into my pocket.

 "Adriano Ferrara.” I said the name out loud to myself.

I typed his name and phone number into my messaging app and sent a quick contact request. He accepted it at once. I clicked on his screen profile, but there was no picture, only a blank dark background. His profile was very minimal and had a cold, distant feel to it under the name Adriano Ferrara.

Fine by me, I thought as the plane came down. Right now, I'd rather stay away from people than feel like a burden to someone new.

Finally I landed at Peretola Airport, picked up my hand luggage and walked out into the crowded arrivals hall. I was greeted immediately by my mother’s childhood best friend Patrizia Ferrara and her tall husband and son. I barely remembered Patrizia beyond the old photographs bundled up in my mother's photo albums, but Mrs. Ferrara rushed forward and greeted me with a warm and enthusiastic embrace.

“Elena! Oh, here you are! You are so beautiful!” Mrs. Ferrara was crying happily, hugging me around the shoulders.

“It is so nice to finally meet you in person Mrs. Ferrara," I smiled. It was a bit overwhelming with all the noise in the building.

"Please, call me Patrizia!" she laughed, patting my cheek. This is my husband, Roberto, and our son, Adriano.”

A rushing traveler bumped hard against my side in the middle of the crowded terminal, and one of my heavy bags was jostled right out of my grip. Adriano dashed in and snatched the bag by the handle before it could hit the tiled floor.

Without saying a word he reached across and snatched my second bag right out of my hands before I could open my mouth and thank him.

Mrs. Ferrara immediately fussed at me. She pulled a tissue from her purse and wiped a bead of sweat off my forehead after my long journey, and greeted me warmly to Florence with an Italian endearment that came naturally after her many years living there.

“Welcome home Tesoro Mia!” Mrs. Ferrara said, happy, kissing both my cheeks. "We are so happy you are finally here with us!”

“Thank you very much, Patrizia,” I said, smiling, trying to catch my breath in the busy terminal. I’m really glad to be here.

Turning to grab my smaller shoulder bag, I finally got a good, clear look at Adriano standing next to the luggage cart. My breath caught in my throat suddenly. In person he wasn’t at all the cold, boring type he’d seemed from his empty online profile.

He was tall and broad-shouldered and he wore a plain black t-shirt that clung to his body. Dark, detailed tattoos ran all the way down his tanned forearms, the intricate ink disappearing just under his shirt collar. I saw a small silver ring glinting from his ear piercing as he turned his head to face the airport lights. He had a sharp, edgy look that totally threw me off, made my pulse jump in my chest.

He noticed me looking at the ink on his arms. The corner of his lips twitched with a faint, knowing smirk as he moved closer, easily carrying both of my heavy suitcases in one hand as if they were feather-light. 

"Welcome to Florence, Elena," Adriano said.

His voice was so deep and smooth it vibrated low enough to cut right through the loud chatter of the crowded airport. There was an easy, quiet confidence in his tone that instantly demanded my attention. 

“Thank you,” I managed to say, suddenly shy under his dark, intense gaze. "And thanks for catching my bag earlier.

He cocked his head slightly, sharp eyes running over my face. He saw through my polite smile at once, picking up on the lingering exhaustion and the quiet nervousness I was trying so hard to conceal after leaving my entire life behind.

Adriano didn't turn toward the exit. Instead, he stepped into my personal space. The clean, masculine scent of cedarwood and leather washed over me and suddenly my skin felt warm.

"You don't have to be scared anymore." Adriano whispered softly, his eyes meeting mine with a fierce unwavering stare. “Now you're in my town. If you ever need anything, any kind of help, whatever it is, whatever time it is, you come straight to me. You understand?"

I couldn’t even find my words. It was impossible to deny the attractiveness of his absolutely sure voice, and intimidating tattooed look. My heart did a sudden hard flip against my ribs and all I could do was nod my head. 

"I know," I said softly.

His sharp smirk softened into something warm and protective, making his handsome face even more beautiful. He stooped just a little bit closer so only I could hear him over the crowd. 

"Good," he whispered, his deep voice with a magnetic, protective edge that suddenly sent a hot shiver straight down my spine. "I got you, kitten.”