Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
"No, no," he says quickly. "My mother is very much alive." He doesn't sound as happy as I expect him to.
"I want to know more about you. Your mother. And your brothers."
Marco turns away from me. He stares out the window at the street, but his eyes don’t seem to land on any detail in particular. He has this dark, distant look in his eyes, like he’s thinking of some painful memory. My heart crunches with a stab of pain and I want to reach out and touch his hand so badly.. But the faraway glaze in his eyes makes me uneasy. We don’t know each other yet, but I thought we were starting to share ourselves. Is there something he’s not telling me?
“Marco,” I say gently. He doesn’t stop staring out the window, but his gaze focusses and he sighs.
"My parents divorced when I was seven," he says. "While Mom was killing herself running Valenfore Cruise Lines, our family business my father, instead of being grateful to her for all her sweat and struggle, all the late nights handling crises around the world, took the opportunity to spend her money on hookers and booze."
I flinch at how curtly he says that. Stiffening, he glances at me, seeming to consider his tone.
"That came out wrong. What he did was a betrayal. It's him I'm furious at. Not the women he paid. It was a massive blow to my family. Mom was devastated, but she wasn't the type to show it. She distracted herself with her work, burying herself under it.. I think in my teenage years I saw our tutors more than I saw her."
"That's so sad," I say, watching him.
"What's sad is how she didn't realize her sons needed their mother around more than they needed gobs of money." He looks down, fidgeting with the varnished fork on the small table. "In her own way she was just trying to protect us. She always said money could solve more problems than God."
"That's a grim way of looking at it."
He blinks at me. "That's odd coming from you."
I bristle anxiously. "How so?"
"Your lack of money is what got you trapped here."
Oh, now I'm full on prickled up. Pulling air through my nose, I let my voice be as sharp as I can. "Why would you throw that in my face? I'm perfectly aware of my situation."
"Filia––"
I'm pissed. I wanted to get to know Marco better after we'd slept together. Now I'm furious I didn't do this in the reverse order; if he's going to mock my financial situation, I don't want anything to do with him.
"Here you are!" The waitress strolls up, setting down two white plates stacked with a thick crepe on each. The mixed smell of sugar from his and savory cheese in mine makes my belly roll like a stormy sea. I'm so hungry I feel ill. Too angry to think about eating anything he bought for me.
I push back from the table, my chair toppling over behind me and stomp away.
"Filia! Wait!" he shouts after me. But I don't stop, I march out the front door, the bell jingling behind me.
The bright sunlight blinds me for a moment as I step out onto the street. I can feel my chest heaving with anger and hurt as I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. How could Marco be so insensitive? Did he really think I was unaware of my own financial situation?
As I stand there, lost in thought and anger, I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. I turn around to see Marco, looking contrite, holding out a crepe to me. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Please, take the crepe. I promise I won't bring up money again."
I'm still angry, but the smell of the crepe in his hand is too much to resist. I take it from him and take a tentative bite, closing my eyes as the flavors explode in my mouth. It's delicious. "Okay," I say, my voice softer now. "I'll eat it. But only because I don't want it to go to waste."
He smiles slightly at my pouting bravado. "Of course. Wasting food is a sin."
I shrug and follow Marco back inside the shop. We sit back at the same table as before and I glance out the window, at the way the sunlight is catching on the spire of a nearby cathedral.
"It's beautiful. The architecture, the food, the people." Waiting a beat, I sigh. "I'm having a good time with you. I have to stop pretending this isn't a problem, though. Can I really lean on your generosity for a week until flight prices come down?"
"Of course. I already said as much." He licks Nutella off his thumb. I watch, wishing it was me he was caressing with his tongue. He snaps his eyes to me. Hope he doesn't read my mind. "You know, I wonder why you haven't asked me to buy you a ticket home. I'd do it, if you preferred."