Chapter3

The lock clicked. Nico stood in the doorway, breathing hard. When he saw me, his shoulders dropped in relief, and then his brows drew together.

His voice was half relief, half accusation.

He smelled faintly of diesel and damp lake air.

For three years, he had gone out in the middle of the night, saying he had a meeting, and come home with that smell on his cuffs.

Once, there had been a fresh, thin scar across the back of his hand. He said he'd scraped it. I never pushed.

"Do you have any idea that I went through that whole house looking for you, room by room?"

I didn't answer. If he had really been that worried, he would have come after me the second he said the wrong name.

Not after the ring was on, the photos were taken, and the guests had gone home.

He walked in, saw the suitcase and boxes at my feet, and his face changed.

"It's the middle of the night. What are you doing?"

"Moving out," I said. "Someone will come for the rest of my things tomorrow."

He was silent for a few seconds. Then he sighed and pulled the navy ring box from the inside pocket of his jacket.

He opened it. The ring sat there quietly, as if nothing had happened tonight.

"Okay. I screwed up." He held the box out to me. "I was nervous. I've never done this before in my life. Take the ring. Tomorrow I'll fix everything. I already talked to Serafina. She won't give you any trouble."

"If it bothers you that she wore it, I'll have a new one made. Bigger diamond. Whatever setting you want."

As he said it, he finally looked me in the eye, sure of himself, as if this were the biggest concession he could possibly make.

I looked at the ring.

"Nico, you think I'm upset because the diamond isn't big enough?"

He stopped, like my question had thrown off the lines he'd prepared.

"Then what are you so angry about?" He honestly didn't understand.

I smiled a little. "I'm not angry. I'm serious about ending this. Keep the ring. Give it to her, sell it, throw it away. I don't care."

He slowly closed the box.

The patience drained from his face, one degree at a time, until it settled into an expression I had seen a thousand times.

"Nora, I said I'd get you a new one. If you don't like the stone, we change it. If you don't like the style, we change it. But you always do this. Every little thing turns into a disaster, and then you threaten to leave. Can't you cut me some slack for once?"

You always do this.

When I heard those words, a chill ran down my spine.

It had been the same a year ago. I had spent six months planning our annual client gala.

The day before it opened, the keynote speech was handed to Serafina.

I went to his office. He didn't even look up from his phone.

"She needs to be seen. You can afford to skip one."

"I spent six months on that gala."

"There's always next year." He said it the way you'd soothe a sulking child.

I stood in his office that day and couldn't say a single word. Next year. With him, everything could wait until next year.

We broke up after that. I stayed in a hotel for three days, and he didn't send a single message. Later, I figured it out.

He was certain I couldn't live without him. He knew I'd come back eventually.

Just like the time he said, "I don't do long distance," and I quit my job in Ann Arbor and moved to Chicago.

When I came back that time, he carried my suitcase in for me and said, "When I take over the family, you'll be the Donna standing beside me. The pressure will be ten times worse then. Nora, if you keep acting like this, how am I supposed to give you the Cavalieri name?"

His phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, and his expression changed instantly.

He answered, said a few low words in Italian, and pointed toward the bedroom without looking at me.

Go inside.

For three years, every time the family called, I was the one sent out of the room. His study door was always closed.

I had never once been invited to a Sunday family dinner. I used to think he was protecting me. Now I understood.

I had simply never been counted.

He hung up, saw I was still standing there, and frowned.

"The ring's settled. I'll have a new one made." He said it like he had already balanced the books. "I'm running a family, a business, an entire company. I have my own problems. Can't you just be reasonable and let this go?"

I looked at his face, and for the first time, I saw it clearly. He had never understood me.

"I'm serious, Nico. I don't want a new ring. I don't want anything anymore."

I wheeled my suitcase into the elevator. Just before the doors closed, his voice squeezed through the gap. "It's cold out. Don't stay out too long. Come home when you've calmed down. I'll be waiting."

The elevator went down floor by floor. My screen lit up.

Serafina had posted again, a champagne glass in her hand and the ring on her finger catching the light.

I liked the post. Then I got into a taxi and gave the driver the name of a hotel.