Page 181 of My Italian Love Affair

"What?!"

"Yep. Apparently Mark's been telling everyone he's been guiding me through everything. Meanwhile, all he’s really done is undermine me while taking credit for my work."

"Okay, so we hate Mark more than usual," Priya says, her voice sharp with protective indignation. "What else? I know that look. There’s something you’re not telling me."

I bite my lip.

"Matteo kissed me tonight."

Priya's jaw drops.

"Matteo?! As in,theMatteo Rossi? The arrogant, pretentious but drop-dead-fucking-gorgeousfootballer you’ve been pretending not to obsess over?"

"I've not been obsessing."

"Daphne, you described his abs in unnecessary detail three weeks ago."

I groan and press a hand to my face.

"That was for research."

"Uh-huh. So he - what, he kissed you? And you're here telling me about it, rather than jumping his effing bones?Why?!"

"Because..." I trail off, struggling to articulate the mess in my head.

It’s difficult: I feelterribleabout the fact that I’m not being fully honest with her. It seems ridiculous to only be telling her now that we’ve kissed given how many times I’ve had sex with him - but it’s taken me some time to process everything.

It’s taken me some time toacceptit, too.

"I just - it’s not that simple.”

“And you can’t just - I don’t know, message him? Speak to him, like a normal person?”

“No. Because I leave in a month. And he’s... him. And I’m me."

Priya sighs dramatically.

"God, you're exhausting sometimes,” she says. “It’s atext, not a proposal."

"He did tell me to message him," I admit.

"Thendo it. And stop overthinking this."

We chat for a few more minutes, but my mind is already half on Matteo. By the time we hang up, I’m chewing my thumbnail and staring at his name in my phone:

Matteo Rossi / wink emoji.

Theaudacity.

I should leave it. I should let it go. I’m leaving in a month, and I have bigger things to deal with - like my boss taking credit for my work and making my life a living hell.

But then I remember Matteo's words.

Chi si ferma è perduto.He who hesitates is lost.

"Screw it," I whisper to myself, and I open the chat.

So, it turns out the cloud ate my text. Who knew?

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