Page 83 of Que Será, Syrah

“In here!” she answers, flashing me a worried look.

And then there he is, flanked by Jake and Jansen (whom they apparently picked up, somewhere along the way). Nico Carvahlo is still as cute and charming as I remember him. I hate him on sight.

“Bellissima!” He smiles in greeting as he approaches me—arms wide, like he thinks I’m going to let him hug me. Please!

“Sfigato!” I sneer in response, basically calling him a loser. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m here as we planned,” he replies. “To join my beautiful wife and assist her in her new endeavors.”

“Save it,” I tell him. “I’ve already told my sisters everything.”

Nico’s smile seems to freeze. “As you know, my English is not always very good,” he protests. “So many voices make for confusion.”

Since we’re the only two speaking, I take that as a hint. I return his smile with an icy one of my own as I say, “Good idea. Let’s go outside.”

“Let’s cut to the chase, Nico,” I say as soon as the front door closes behind us. “What do you want?”

“Only what I’m entitled to under California law.”

“You mean half of my assets? That’s never gonna happen.”

“We’ll see.” He shrugs and says, “But why so cold? When I learned you’d broken off the divorce proceedings, I naturally assumed you had a change of heart.”

“I didn’t ‘break them off’ the court ruled that our marriage was invalid, making a divorce unnecessary.” Not to mention impossible.

“Again; we shall see. It’s true that, in my excitement, I may not have filled out our marriage documents correctly. Perhaps I missed seeing the question about prior relationships? I’m hoping your immigration officers will be more sympathetic. We make a very convincing couple, do we not? Everyone says so. We even argue like we’re married.”

Shame lodges like a stone in my gut. He’s not wrong. Even before the whole will business, our friends used to tease us about our bickering.

“Just go away,” I tell him. “You’re wasting your time. No one wants you here.”

“But that’s not true, is it? Your charming sister has offered to make me dinner.”

“That was before she knew what you were. The only way that’ll happen now is if the recipe were copied straight from the Borgia family cookbook.”

Nico laughs. “Ah, Allegra. I have missed you.”

“Well, I haven’t missed you. So, get the hell out of here, and don’t come back.”

“I understand. You’re overwrought. You’re not thinking clearly. I’ll give you some time to reflect on the situation. Au revoir, bella, I’ll look forward to seeing you again soon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grouse. “And I’ll make sure that you don’t.”

But my threats are empty, and we both know it.

I watch from the porch until he leaves—to make sure that he does. But when I turn back towards the house, I realize there’s no way I can face my family right now. So, I ease open the door, as silently as I can and slip inside. I can hear the murmur of conversation—talking about me, no doubt. But, for once, I don’t want to know what they’re saying.

I find my purse, still hanging from the hook by the door where I left it, and slip back outside.

Once I’m in my car, I plug my phone into the charger so I can send a quick text. “I’m sorry,” I tell my sisters. “I need a little time alone. I’ll be back later.”

At least this time, they can’t accuse me of disappearing without a word.

Clay

This time, I’m really not expecting the knock at my door.

“What do you want, Legs?” I say, even as I pull the door open, and let her in. “This isn’t a good time.”

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