Page 41 of Come Back to Me

Tearing my gaze from my protruding belly, I can’t stop my eyes from watering when I look up at Nettie. “Honest, Michael is great. He’s sweet, he’s attentive, and he provides for us. But…”

“He’s not Leo?” she whispers, brows raised.

My lips quiver. I can’t bring myself to say the words aloud.

“You’re right. Michael is all those things. And it’s annoyinghow much that guy loves you.” She rolls her eyes playfully and takes my hand. “But…it’s okay to still miss Leo.”

I nod and wipe at the traitorous tears fallen across my cheeks.

After the party, I drive us home. Michael had a few beers while watching the game with Pete and the other dads. Our home is situated in the middle of town. The cabin sits empty most of the year. We only use it as a vacation home now.

Michael gets frisky after even a smidge of alcohol, but I’m not feeling it tonight. Not after the mention of Leo and being triggered by my past. While I love Michael, it’s different. I could never love anyone the same way I loved Leo.

I tell Michael I’m not in the mood, that the baby is doing somersaults, and maybe we can put off being intimate until next weekend. After he passes out in the bed next to me, I slip out from underneath his arm and dress in a sweater and pair of elastic waisted pants.

Because Michael is a worrier, I leave him a note:

Michael,

Couldn’t sleep. Took a drive to the cabin to check on it.

Gigi

The last thing I want to do is make my husband question my commitment to him. He already had his reservations about dating me, never mind marrying me. Pete met Michael Milano through mutual friends and introduced us without any intentions. Knowing I might still be healing from the loss of my first love, Michael took a chance on me. In return, I took a chance on him.

But really, I was taking a chance on living again.

The drive to the cabin is peaceful. It’s a clear night, and the stars guide my way. Sometimes I feel like I could stare up at the sky and keep driving and I’d still make it to the cabin. It’s as familiar to me as my skin.

When the cabin comes into view, warmth covers me. It’s a sight that never seems to disappoint in comforting me. Michael doesn’t feel as fondly about it as I do. He knows when I come here, it’s usually because I’m missing Leo.

I climb out of the car and grab mail from the box before taking the steps on the porch. Before going inside, I can’t resist taking a detour by the porch swing. Running my hands over the wood, along the chain, gets my heart thrumming in my chest.

Unlocking the door, I use a flashlight to guide me to the candles and matches I leave in the kitchen. We stopped paying for electricity year round since we only use the cabin two or three times a year.

I light a few candles and go through the mail. Doing the math in my head, I realize by the thick stack how long it’s been since I’ve snuck out here. It’s mostly junk mail. Michael doesn’t see the point in us receiving mail here at all.

But disclosing my reason for it somehow feels as if I’m being disloyal to my husband.

An envelope in the stack catches my eye. The return address is from Texas. Jones Family Ranch.

My heart stalls in my chest.

A metallic taste pools in my mouth, and my throat thickens.

Blackness tunnels my vision as my stomach churns. Before I allow myself to pass out, I collapse into a chair next to a candle’s flickering light.

I trace a trembling finger over my maiden name—Russo. While the hand lettering is familiar, I sniff and force my watering eyes to blink back tears. It’s probably from Marco. Or Sara.

Slowly, I flip the envelope over, feeling the weight of it in my hand, and slip my finger inside to tear it open. At first, my eyes quickly scan the letter, my pulse picking up speed. When I see the signature at the bottom, my heart slides up my throat, and I burst into sobs.

Dear Giana,

I debated sending you a letter at all. Maybe thinking I was dead would be better. But I couldn’t do that. I know you, and you would never give up hope I was still alive.

Sara told me about your marriage. About the baby. While I can’t lie and say I’m not devastated over it, I do understand. Sara says you held onto hope long after my family buried an empty box. So, for that, I thank you. I thank you for much more.

If it wasn’t for you, your letters, and your love, I never would’ve made it out alive.

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