Page 133 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

But the words taste bitter.

Because I don't feel powerful.

I feel lonely.

And deep in my bones, something still feels wrong.

A chill creeps down my spine.

Whoever sent those notes is still out there.

Watching.

31

ALESSIO

This should feel like paradise.

I look around as the sun sinks behind the hills of Tuscany, setting the vineyard ablaze in molten gold.

It just feels like hell.

I sit on the stone wall just beyond the main house, a glass of red wine sweating in my hand.

The vines stretch out, endless and perfect.

A life laid out neatly in rows.

Fake.

All of it feels fake without her.

I tip the glass back, but the wine tastes like ash.

Five fucking days since I left her, since I tore both our hearts in two and convinced myself it was the right thing.

I close my eyes, and it’s there, vivid and brutal. The last night we spent tangled in her sheets, her skin against mine, her heart beating just under my palm.

The way I got up while she slept, needing to breathe, needing to memorize her in the half-light.

How I stood there like a coward, watching her, my chest splitting open, tears stinging my eyes like I hadn't cried in years.

I replay the way she clung to me in the morning, silent, strong, even as I packed my things.

The way her body tensed in my arms while I could see in her eyes how her heart tried so damn hard not to break.

She held it together for me. Tried to be strong when I didn’t deserve it.

And I left anyway.

And somehow, that broke me worse.

The breeze carries the scent of earth and old vines, but it doesn’t touch me.

I glance over at the garage. Rows of gleaming, expensive cars I used to live for. Ferrari. Maserati. Aston Martin. All polished to perfection.

All the things I fought for. All the things I thought I wanted.

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