Page 49 of Isabella

ISABELLA

Dinner turned out to be a really nice time with Massimo, even after Nicco interrupted it. I hate that he was able to make me fold so easily to him in the bathroom and that it consumed my thoughts for the remainder of my date, but it’s also made me realize something. I need to speak to Nicco.

After taking a much-needed bath, I put on my favorite pink silk pajamas, brush my teeth, then slide into bed. Picking up my phone from my nightstand, I go to my blocked callers list and unblock the numbers Nicco’s tried texting me from. My thumb hovers over his last number; the one I blocked years ago.

My heart picks up pace while I contemplate what I’m doing. Am I ready to talk to him? Am I ready to reopen that chapter of my past that I thought I had closed, put a lock on, and thrown away the key to?

I internally laugh at myself because who am I kidding? That chapter was never closed. The man just ate me out in a public restaurant, for crying out loud.

While I continue to stare at my phone screen, butterflies erupt in my stomach. Not the good butterflies that make you giddy with excitement. No, these are the butterflies that flutter around in the deepest depths of your stomach, spurring up anxiety you have no interest in acknowledging.

As much as I want to put my phone down, roll over, and go to sleep, I have to text Nicco. Taking a deep breath, I unblock the last number and click on it so I can send him a message.

Me: I unblocked your number.

My phone buzzes immediately with a response from Nicco, as if he’s been waiting by his phone all night for me.

Nicco: Good. Now I can stop buying burner phones.

That pulls a small laugh out of me.

Me: How many did you go through? Five, was it?

Nicco: Six, and I would go through a hundred if it meant you were seeing my messages.

I let out a sigh because his words do something to me… and it scares me.

Me: I’m not sure I’m ready for this tonight, Nicco. Can we postpone this conversation until another time?

My hands shake while I clutch my phone, watching the three dots light up on the screen, indicating he’s typing a response. If I can put this off, I will, but I’m not sure it’ll help anything. We need to talk, but it’s worth a shot to postpone it so I can collect my chaotic emotions.

The three dots disappear, but a message doesn’t come through. Did I convince him to postpone it that easily? I thought he would make that more difficult, but I won’t argue.

I lean over the edge of my bed to put my phone on the charging pad when pulsing buzzes vibrate through it. Looking at the screen, I see it’s Nicco FaceTiming me, and I nearly drop my phone.

“Shit,”I mumble before hitting the ignore button. I bring up our text thread.

Me: I’m really tired, Nicco. I’m going to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow.

My phone buzzes once more with Nicco’s name displayed on the screen. I almost ignore it, but at the last second, I click accept, and my heart nearly drops at the sight of him, with memories of our last FaceTime call coming back to me. He’s lying in his bed, shirtless, like he was with that girl.

It was all a lie.

Those words come rushing back, making me feel like a pathetic loser, hoping everything about that girl was a lie, but even I know I’m not that lucky. I know what I saw. She was lying on top of him, kissing him, and they lookedhappy.

Not knowing if I can do this, I go to hang up on him when he says, “Isabella.” His voice low and gravelly, yet soft. “Please don’t hang up on me.”

I look at him again, and he’s rearranged himself. Now he’s lying with his head on his pillow and one arm tucked behind his head while lazily peering at me through the screen. His disheveled hair is perfectly mopped on his head with a strand falling forward.

Holy hell, he looks amazing.

Silence fills the screen, causing me to drop my gaze and play with an invisible piece of lint on my comforter.

A small chuckle finally comes through from him. “Playing with invisible lint? Do I make you that nervous, Isabella?”

I snap my gaze back to my phone screen and scoff, annoyed that he can still read me so damn easily. “Of course not. I’m just waiting for you to do the talking since I don’t have much to say to you.”

A smirk tugs up on his full lips. Lips I can still feel on mine from a few hours ago. “How was yourdate?” he asks.

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