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“Wow,” I whisper.
“You like it.” It’s not a question. “Sit. I promise the view won’t change, only your comfort.”
I hadn’t noticed the round table with two woven-back chairs before. I was too enamored by the incredible view. “You’re lucky.”
Konstantin stiffens at that, and I wonder if I said something wrong.
In the glow of the sharp moon, his eyes are less ice-blue, and more silver. Slipping his arm over the back of his chair, he brings his wine to his lips. His glass is mostly full, unlike mine, but he’s brought the bottle.
I pick it up to refill mine and he grabs my hand.
“Let me.”
I don’t let go of the bottle. I can’t, or I don’t want to. I’m frozen with his fingers wrapped around mine, our eyes locked, my heart trying to escape from my mouth.
He pulls slightly, the bottle lifting away. My hand dangles in the air for a moment before I yank it into my lap. I’m flushed all the way across my chest. I can’t fucking help it.
Unsure how to act normal, I pick up my sandwich and sink my teeth into it. The explosion of savory caprese and salty ham, followed by the mouthy feel of olive oil and butter leaves me dazed.
“Oh my God!” I’m speaking through a mouthful of food. “This is delicious.”
“It’s nothing special,” he says. “Just some spare ingredients that was lying around.”
“Well, it’sincredibleto me!”
His lips drop open. He seems surprised at my reaction, but the way he starts to smile, I’m sure he’s pleased. “I’ll have to remember the recipe for next time.”
“Do you say that to all the other girls?” I tease.
He stares straight at me. “I meant next time with you, Kitty Cat.”
I drink some wine to keep myself from choking on the next bite of sandwich. This guy is smooth—it’s almost too much. A thorny branch winds through my guts.
“I wish I could stay in Italy forever.”
“Just convince your friend to have her wedding here too,” he says.
“Nadia’s already set that stuff in stone. She’s been planning her wedding since she was a kid.”
“I get it,” he chuckles. “You have a whole life back in America waiting for you. I don’t actually expect you to uproot yourself and stay here.”
A whole life back in America …
He’s trying to console me, but he doesn’t know the first damn thing about me. How can you comfort someone when you don’t know what’s caused them harm?
“If I could, I would.” I drain the last of my wine. “But I don’t want to go home.”
“Why? What’s back there?”
The sky is tinting red where it kisses the sea. Dawn pries apart the sky with rosy fingers. But the moon hasn’t yet fled from the approaching sunrise. I hold my glass up until the silvery sliver is inside of it.
“Reality.”
I hear his chair scrape on the patio as he moves closer. “The reality of what, Kitty Cat?”
I grab the bottle, refilling my glass. “Nothing. Forget about it.”
“Did someone hurt you?”
