Page 58 of Say It Isn't So

“What’s it?” I asked, clearly having missed something.

“Let’s see the opera together. I was supposed to go with Stefan, but it turns out, he’s not going to Italy, and I don’t want to go alone. Operas are only fun when you have company. What do you say?”

An opera.There had to be at least two dozen reasons why that wasn’t a good idea. “I don’t know, Rina, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”There, I said it.

Head angled, she regarded me seriously. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to keep pretending like we can give this another try. I don’t want to.” It felt wrong to say, but she obviously needed to hear it.

“Oh, pish”—she waved a hand in the air and shook her head—“you don’t know what you want.”

Has she lost it?She couldn’t seriously think that we had any real chance of working out. I felt more spark when I charged my phone. “I think I do,” I said, trying to let her down gently again. I mean, how many ways did one person have to be told no?

She narrowed her eyes and brushed her hair behind her ear. Then in a low voice, she answered, “I’m not giving up on you. I meant it when I said that before. You’ll see, Bianca is nothing but a passing fancy. It’s me and you, baby.”

I wondered if she suffered from memory loss. Unfortunately, I didn’t. I remembered when she’d broken up with me; in fact, it was crystal clear. “Where was this two years ago?”

“We needed the time apart. Can’t you see that?”

It was obvious she really believed that, but I didn’t.How do I get through to her?I stood and raked a hand through my hair. “I don’t think so, Rina. I think you like the idea of me now that I’ve made something of myself and our worlds fit into one another’s nicely, but that’s not following your heart.”

“Well, so what if that’s true? We’re both in the same industry, we run in similar circles. Isn’t it nice that we fit together?” she asked, all but pleading with me. Not that it would change my mind. I felt the way I felt, and that was it for me.

Trying to make her see reason, I explained, “It’s logical. But I don’t want to be with someone because it’s logical. I want to be with a woman because there’s passion, chemistry, and compatibility that isn’t just on paper. I should think you’d want the same things.” I understood her fear in ending up alone, but that couldn’t mean she was willing to settle for a loveless relationship just to say that she had someone by her side, could it? I hitched a brow in the air and waited for her response.

She smacked her lips together but didn’t say a word, only got up and walked to the door. Then she turned back to me. “I’m sorry, but you’re wrong.” Her eyes widened, growing more impassioned with each word as she said, “We had passion once before and we could have it again. You just need to give us a chance. Givemea chance. But I can wait. I can be patient.”

I went to speak, but she raised a finger in the air and closed her eyes before reopening them and exhaling. She clearly already knew where she stood and nothing I said was going to change her mind. “You get little Bianca Morelli out of your system, and I’ll be here when you want something more serious. I’m all in with you, Knox Rhodes.”

I shook my head. “Please don’t say that, Rina. I’m not going to change my mind.”

With one hand on the door now, she looked content as the corners of her mouth curled upward. “You will. You forget, Knox, I know you. And I’ll be here when you change your mind. I’m not going anywhere this time, that I promise you.”

So she didn’t hear a word I said. Great.

Chapter Eighteen

Bianca

milan, italy

“Oh, doll, we’regoing to the Galleria,” Allie joked, pretending to wave a cigarette between her fingers like she was a certain Italian Hollywood sensation.

I leaned back in the car that was driving us to the center of town. “I can hardly believe it.”

Laughing, she sat back and kicked her feet up in front of her, her ankle boots doing a little jig. “Well, believe it, because there was no way I was coming to Milan and not going shopping with you.”

I turned my head to eye her, brushing my hands over the front of my high-waisted, pleated, wide leg black pants. “It is like a tradition, isn’t it?”

“Definitely.” I knew the streets well and we were almost there, but I let my mind wander back to the last time we’d been out here and had gone shopping. Maria and Perla had been with us; Mom, too.

It had been six years ago.

A lot had changed.

Maria had Isabella. Mom was no longer with us.

The memory was bittersweet, but this was exactly what we needed today.

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