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“No key,” she fires back, poking me. “You knock like a normal person.”

“Fine. No key.” I lean in, voice dropping. “But I’ll still climb through your window when I want you.”

“Try it. I’ll shove you out.”

“Deal.” I fish my phone out, dialing Ralph while she watches, smug. “Ralph, yeah, it’s me. Penelope’s door’s fucked. I kicked it in. Get a new one, heavy-duty, and slap a security system on her place. Cameras, locks, the full deal. Today, asshole, not next week. She’s stubborn as hell, thinks she can keep me out.” I hang up, catching her glare. “Happy now?”

“Thrilled,” she says, voice dripping sarcasm, but her lips twitch, and I know she’s mine, door or not.

We don’t speak for a while, the silence filled with things we want to say but aren’t ready to.

“I have not been here in weeks, not since you,” I say.

She grunts, distracted, sliding her handbag onto her shoulder as she rises. “I figured stepping foot in this place again would gut me, leave me feeling like absolute shit.”

Penelope spins to face me, her eyes locking onto mine. Instantly, I’m flung back to that first spark at Gianna’s wedding and her in that short dress, me pretending I did not want her. So much has twisted since then. She’s still a goddamn vision, carvedlike the world bends just for her. Traces linger of that shy girl who tried schooling me on lust versus obsession, but now? Now she’s a puzzle I cannot crack, edges sharpened by pain I helped carve.

Her floral dress clings short, sleeves barely hiding the tan of her arms. That’s when I spot it—a tattoo peeking from the fabric, ink bleeding into view. “You got a tattoo?”

Shock glints across her face before she masks it with a scowl, stammering, “Yeah, I did, but it’s nothing. Anyway, I need to go.”

“Can I see it?”

She jerks her arm back, twisting it out of sight. “It’s not a big deal. It’s not ugly, just…”

“Show me.”

She hesitates, jaw tight like she might snap at me again, but then relents. Lifting her arm, she lets me grab her wrist. I turn it slow, fingers brushing her skin, and there it is—my name, Adriano, etched in black.

“Fuck, Pen—”

She pulls her hand free, eyes flashing. “You’re gonna call it stupid, right? Go ahead. Maybe it is, but do not think I did it because I’m in love or pining for you.”

“Were you not?” I step closer, voice dropping. “Thinking about me?”

“It was a drunk fuck up, Adriano. After the incident with Theo. I thought I’d get a sick memento of what I’ve let myself become.”

Her stare turns icy, hardened by years of bullshit—some mine, some not. I see it now: I’ve torn her open, left scars she cannot hide. She’s got my heart in a chokehold, and letting her slip away might kill me.

“It’s not stupid,” I admit. “It’s the most anyone’s ever given me, Sweetheart. I sure as hell do not deserve it—not from you.”

She nods, lips pressing tight, silence swallowing us. Then, snapping back to the moment, she asks, “So, how do you feel being here now?”

I tear my eyes from her, scanning the sea of tombstones stretching out like silent judges. Beyond, to the east, trees carve a path to my parked car. Wind slices through the branches, rustling them wild, and I shut my eyes, sucking in the crisp, earthy air—moss, dew, a whisper of peace. “I cannot pin it down,” I say, exhaling. “But it’s not guilt anymore. You?”

She turns, her sandals crunching the cobblestone as she heads toward the trees. I trail her, my hand brushing the handgun tucked in my waistband. We pass two women kneeling at a grave, their prayers a low hum, and Penelope’s voice breaks the quiet.

“Back then, I could not face this place. It crushed me—her being my best friend, gone like that. Now, though? Like you said, guilt’s faded, replaced with hatred for myself. But I miss her. God, I miss her so fucking much.”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “More than I can ever say.”

We start approaching the gated entrance after a few minutes. Once we reach the edge, she stops, wrapping her arms around me. The height difference between us has never really registered in my head until today. With her arms around me, I suddenly feel at peace. The smell of nature, of green moss and dew and sunlight filter through my subconscious but all that fully registers is the sweet smell of her honey-tinged perfume.

“I’ve missed you like hell,” I rasp, pressing a kiss to her head, my lips grazing her hair. “Every damn day, you’re in my head. I cannot keep pretending I’m fine without you.”

“Adriano, I… I cannot do this anymore.”

She pulls back, leaving me hollow. I rake a hand through my hair, biting my lip to cage the flood inside, but it spills out anyway. “Why not, Pen?”

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