Page 59 of Isabella

“You shouldn’t have come here,” I say.

“Why not?” Nicco says.

I tighten the hold I have around my body, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze. “You could get caught,” I whisper, and I already feel those feelings of hate slowly transforming into something they shouldn’t.

Nicco chuckles, reminding me how the deep velvety sound used to always bring me comfort. “So, you do still care about me.”

“I don’t want you dead, Nicco. I just want you away from me,” I say, but I can’t help the small smirk that forms on my face.

He releases another low chuckle and says, “We both know that’s not true, Isabella.”

We stand there in silence for a few moments before I say, “Who’re the flowers for?”

“I seem to remember they’re a certain someone’s favorite.”

“I’m surprised you remember that little detail.”

“I remember every single thing about you, Isabella.”

I angle my head so I’m able to see Nicco out of my peripheral vision while still facing my parents’ gravesite. “And how do you suspect I can get those without making it obvious that someone’s over here to Gianni?”

“When you’re ready to leave, I’ll put them on the ground. Pick them up and walk back to your car. Gianni will ask about them, you can tell him whatever you’d like, but by then, it won’t matter because I’ll have done exactly what I came here to do. Be with you.”

I snap my gaze to his, knowing Gianni might question what I’m doing if he sees me talking but not caring; I need to look at Nicco. Look into his eyes when he says things like that.

Seeing him standing there in dark jeans, brown boots, and a black wool peacoat, with the bouquet of beautiful pink roses, does something to me. It’s no secret that pink’s my favorite color, but there’s something about the soft hues of pink roses. They’re so innocently beautiful, and seeing Nicco with them does something to my heart.

“I wasn’t there for you when I should’ve been,” he says. His tone is soft but unwavering, and his eyes shine bright with regret. “If I could go back in time and figure out a way to alter the future so none of this happened, I would, Isabella.”

My heart beats so hard in my chest, and tears threaten to spill, but I keep quiet, my gaze never leaving Nicco’s.

“I might’ve not been there for you back then, but I promise to always be there for you moving forward. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I just need you to know that I love you, Isabella. I always have and I always will.”

“Izzy!” Gianni barks out from behind me, snapping me out of the moment with Nicco.

I frantically spin on my heel and find him walking around the car and staring at me.

“Shit,” I mutter, knowing he can’t find me here with Nicco.

“I’ll call you later,” Nicco says, and before I’m able to respond, he adds, “I’m sorry.”

I freeze.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your time with your parents on the anniversary of their deaths. I’m sorry for everything. I just wanted to be here for you, Isabella.”

I don’t respond in fear that it’ll bring up more questions and suspicions to Gianni. His hands are in his pocket, and he’s eyeing me from the car. I can tell he’s about to make his way over to me, so I take a deep breath and walk back toward him, keeping my movements as normal as possible.

“Everything okay?” he asks as he opens the back passenger door.

I give him a small nod before getting into the car and say, “I guess. You’d think as time goes on it would get easier for me to come here.”

He studies me for a moment as if he’s trying to read through my bullshit, but fortunately for me, it’s not a lie. It’s still tough to see my parents’ names on those tombstones, it just wasn’t the only thing that threw me off today.

Gianni gives me a small nod and says, “Of course. I’m sorry, Izzy” before shutting my door.

I stare out the window at the spruce tree I know Nicco is still standing behind. If I didn’t know, I would have no idea he was there.

Gianni starts driving off, thankfully following the road in the opposite direction of the tree, and I can’t help but think about Nicco’s words and what they’re doing to me.

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