Page 32 of (UN)Bounded

“I see we’re starting slow, huh?” Bella chuckles, and it’s not lost on me that she takes a fortifying sip of her wine.

“I’m not sure how much you know about my family, but the reason I moved to Chile for college was because our parents decided to check out of our lives. When Grandpa Bianchi passed, they inherited a lot of money, and they changed. Gio was supposed to start college in the US that summer, but our parents decided to go on vacation for almost three months and only told us right before they left. So he stayed local so he could take care of us.”

I’m speechless. What kind of parents do that? This makes me understand Gio’s quietness on a deeper level. He had to become a responsible adult before he was ready.

“Then, when Luca met Karina, he decided to move to Chile, which would have left me alone in our hometown. I asked if I could move to Santiago. Both my brothers offered for me to move in with them. It was a very tough conversation we had with our parents, but at the end of the day, they chose the money and the life it brought them over us. Ever since I moved to Chile four years ago, they haven’t made an attempt to talk to me or check on how I am doing. I even invited them to my graduation but didn’t hear back from them.” Bella’s beautiful azure eyes fill with emotion, and I bring her to my lap. Those assholes are not her parents; they’re simply the people who made her.

“They don’t deserve your tears, principessa. They lost everything worthy in life the moment they decided to walk away from their kids. I’m even more proud of you now, after knowing that growing up wasn’t easy, that you have a void in your heart, and yet you’re still thriving in life.”

Bella hugs me as her tears flow freely, and I let her—she needs to mourn this loss. I’m not sure if her brothers have let her vent, but I’m incredibly touched that she trusts me enough to bare her heart to me.

“You’re right, they don’t deserve my sadness. But the fear of becoming them is what’s stopping me from being in a relationship.”

I look her in the eyes and wipe the tears away from her face. Her skin is blotchy after crying for a while, but she has never looked more beautiful—raw and exposed to me.

“And what makes you think you’ll become them? You’re nothing like them. You care about your loved ones.”

“I know my fear is irrational, but it’s how I feel.” She shrugs, and I can tell she’s winding down; tiredness is evident on her face.

“Let’s make a deal. We can start dating casually; no need to talk about the future. We’ll focus on the present and see how you feel,” I suggest, fully intending to do everything in my power to make her feel everything I feel for her every single day.

“You got yourself a deal,” she says as she presses her lips against mine, sealing the promise.

Chapter 13

Isabella Bianchi

“Good morning, everyone. I’m Martín López, and I’ll be your instructor this week.” I immediately lift my eyes from my sketchbook—that name doesn’t sound Italian at all.

“I’m Chilean, but have lived in Switzerland for a while now, and last year I started teaching a module of this class.”

Everyone nods, and I grin like an idiot. What are the odds that I would have a Chilean professor in Bologna? I can’t wait to chat with him and ask for advice on getting artists to send their pieces back to Chile with me.

After class, I pack my stuff quickly and make my way to the front of the room to introduce myself to Mr. López.

“Hey there. I noticed you were really focused on your work today. Good job,” he says with an easy smile.

“Thank you, I’m Isabella Bianchi. I went to school at the University of Santiago.” His eyes go wide, and I chuckle.

“Oh wow, I didn't expect to meet a fellow Chilean here. Are you from Santiago?”

“No, I’m actually Argentinian, but moved to Chile for college.”

He stops packing his canvas bag and looks at me from head to toe. His demeanor immediately changes. I frown, confused. He shakes his head quickly, and his easy smile returns.

“Sorry, I just thought you looked familiar for a second.”

Hmm, interesting. I doubt he knows my family, but you never know.

“Any chance you’ve ever been in Alamo Peaks?” I ask him, wanting to know if he knows Luca.

“No, never heard of it. I’m from Valdivia, which is 520 miles south of Santiago,” he says as he starts walking toward the door. His answer is kinda strange, since Alamo Peaks is part of the well-known wine region, but I don’t think he’s lying.

“Oh, I see. Yeah, I’ve never traveled south. It must be beautiful though.” He nods at me as I fall into step next to him.

“Professor López, I have this idea about opening a gallery back in Santiago, and my hope is to be able to provide a space for immigrants to send their art back to their homeland. I was wondering if you know any up-and-coming artists here in Europe?”

We walk in silence for a couple of minutes. He seems deep in thought, and I take the opportunity to look at the people walking around campus, noticing how the golden hour light casts a beautiful glow upon them.

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