Chapter2

I was about to lock my phone when a message from Nico popped up.

"Nora, let's leave it for tonight. The Contis are all here, Serafina said yes in front of everyone, and my father was watching. If I take it back now, both families lose face. I'll explain it to them in a while. It was a mistake. The ring was always meant for you."

I read it several times. None of it surprised me.

The moment he said that name, I knew this was how he would handle it.

Just like last Christmas. He had ordered me a cashmere coat, and it ended up shipped to Serafina's apartment. When I asked if he could get it back, he took my hand and said, "Sorry, baby. I put in the wrong address. She already opened it. Just let her keep it."

The estate manager sent a message, too. "Mr. Cavalieri has asked me to let you know that the after-dinner celebration has moved to the main hall. The entrée has been changed to pistachio-crusted rack of lamb, and the chef has everything ready. We look forward to seeing you there."

That had been part of the proposal plan as well. He had proposed to the wrong woman, so naturally, everything else changed hands, too.

That was Nico. Nothing he had already paid for could go to waste.

Soon, guests began posting photos from the dinner. White tablecloths, silver candlesticks, flowers everywhere, and in the center of the table, the pistachio-crusted lamb.

I'm allergic to nuts. Three years, and he never remembered. But he remembered that it was Serafina's favorite dish.

I pushed open the apartment door. On the entryway console sat a small record player, and beside it, a single record leaning upright.

It was from the jazz show we went to on our first date. He had tracked down a signed copy later and set it there.

I was the one who told him that the first record you play in a new place becomes the sound of that place.

He hadn't bought it at first. He leaned against the doorframe and said, "It's just a record. Does it really matter where it goes?"

I turned around. "It matters. I want everyone who walks in to see it first and know this is a home."

That was the first time he didn't argue with me. I thought it meant he was starting to understand me.

I picked up the sleeve and ran my thumb over the crease on the cover.

The photos from the dinner flashed through my mind, one after another.

In every one, he stood beside Serafina, shoulders loose, a smile on his face. I hadn't seen him smile like that in a long time.

So for three years, I had been the only one who thought we were happy.

I put the record and its sleeve in a box.

Then I thought about it, took them back out, and set them on the console exactly where they'd been.

That was the sound of this home. And this wasn't my home anymore.

My phone buzzed. Serafina had posted a group photo from the dinner with a caption:

"Some places were always meant for the right person."

She didn't name anyone. She didn't need to.

I closed the app and opened the airline's. The earliest flights were all full.

The first one I could get was at 6:40 a.m. the day after tomorrow, landing in Dublin that night.

I tapped confirm.

[Booking confirmed. Departure in 34 hours.]