Page 54 of Hate Mail

Naomi

“Come hide away with me,” Penny recited through gritted teeth. She continued to berate me for having the letters, but I wasn’t listening to her anymore. I was angry as hell, and all I could see was red.

“You hid this from me?” I asked.

“I should have burned it,” she said. “I should have burned all of them. In fact.” She turned out of the room, headed for the kitchen. I followed. She opened a couple of drawers and then, finding a candle lighter, she smiled even wider and held it up. “Time to say goodbye to Naomi.”

I snatched the lighter from her hand before she could do something stupid with it. I threw it to the floor and smashed it with my shoe. Then I stormed back into the living room and began to pick up all of the letters she had dropped onto the couch and the floor around it. I shoved them all back into the box, not caring that they weren’t in order anymore. I could fix that later. I just needed to get out of here. I needed to get away from her.

“The wedding’s off, Penny.”

“You can’t just call it off,” she said. “You owe me for half of everything.”

“I never agreed to marry you. You made all of these plans without my consent.”

She scoffed. “Right. Like you didn’t know we were getting married. I guess it was just convenient for you to live in this house for free, right? Meanwhile you let me keep thinking we had a future together. You’re sick, Luca.”

I finished gathering up all the letters, then straightened to face her. Her eyes were red, her cheeks streaked with tears. Even though I was angry with her, and nothing about this engagement was my idea, I knew that I couldn’t leave her without a proper goodbye and an explanation. I didn’t want to be like my father. I took a deep breath to calm myself down, and then I held out my right hand, offering it to her. She took it hesitantly with her left.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner that I didn’t want to get married. I was caught off guard when you started planning our wedding. If I’m being honest, I went along with it because I didn’t know what else to do. This is what people do when they reach a certain point in their relationship, right? Get married, start a family. I thought that I was just afraid to make that commitment. That you were just giving me the push I needed to do what was expected of me. What society expected of me. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize that I was making a mistake. It wasn’t only my life that was affected by my lack of action. Yours was too. It was never my intention to hurt you. I just think that the person I marry should be someone I’m in love with. And I’m sorry that’s not you.”

With her left hand in mine, I slid the ring off her finger. She cried out in shock. I stuffed the ring into my pocket, then picked up the box of letters.

“I’m going to pack now,” I said. “I’m taking my car, my clothes and my letters. You can keep everything else.”

ChapterSeventeen

THE HOMEWRECKER

Naomi

“Ican’t believe you talked me into flying to Dallas.”

Anne and I are standing in front of a house that would probably cost a couple million in Miami. It’s a beautiful property, and definitely an upgrade from the small blue beach house Luca started out in. The house stands proudly in a cookie-cutter neighborhood where all the other houses are equally as magnificent and with meticulously trimmed lawns.

Now that we’re here, I’m afraid to go up to the door. I guess I’m afraid that Luca will open it, and then I’ll know that he’s still married.

“Come on,” Anne says. She grabs me by the arm and pulls me across the lawn to the front door. Before I have a chance to back out, she hits the doorbell.

A moment later, a woman opens the front door. She’s about our age, and has dark eyes and black hair. She smiles. “Hi. Can I help you?”

Anne elbows me in the ribs.

“You must be Penelope,” I say.

She maintains her smile. “I am. Can I help you?” she repeats.

“We’re trying to find Luca Pichler. Is he around?”

As soon as I mention his name, Penelope drops the smile. “Are you kidding? You’re looking for Luca?”

“I was told that he lives here. Aren’t you his wife?”

She makes a show of rolling her eyes, then the smile returns to her face, and she giggles. “Why don’t you come on in?” she offers. “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

I exchange a glance with Anne. She gives a small nod. We both know that if we want answers, we’ll have to play along. We step into a grand foyer. A staircase with mahogany railing wraps around one side of the marble-floored room. A glass chandelier hangs above us. I wouldn’t want to be standing here in the event of an earthquake.

We follow Penelope through the next room into the kitchen. Each room is more elegant than the last. She pours us each a glass of iced tea. I’m a little afraid to drink mine, but Anne sips hers and she seems fine. There’s something about Penelope that puts me on edge. I can’t quite place it.

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