Page 143 of Legacy
Now that I’m here and angry and in need of fucking explanations… he’s done?
He ignores me.
Out late every night, probably sleeping with other women because he sure as hell isn’t ever getting it from me.
Fuck it.
I’m texting him.
I’m done.
I can’t do this anymore.
I pick up my phone again and there it is, a message.
A photo.
The loft.
‘Just in case you change your mind, I cleaned it up, fresh paint, new furniture. Just in case, Adriana.’
My heart stutters in my chest. I look at the photo again. That’s the loft, but it kind of matches our living room here. Black with deep red accents and white walls. In the kitchen on the windowsill,
My breath hitches.
The mug with“World’s best Chef”on it.
I look at his last messages. Before his silence the one message I read over and over.
‘I don’t need an open door invitation. Just crack a window. Let me in, even if it’s just for a breath.’
I toss the blanket off me and slip out of bed.
I’ve made my choice.
Chapter 27
Angelo
She doesn't text back.
I wasn’t expecting her to.
But fuck, I wish she did.
The screen of my phone is dim. Time passes. No message. No relief.
Santo told me he saw her at Exile tonight.
Enzo let me know she was home safe soon after.
I sit in the dim loft, jaw tight, lungs aching like breathing is an inconvenience.
I’m trying. God knows I am. But it feels like clawing at smoke. Like there’s a future right there,inchesfrom me, but I can’t touch it.
Every night, if I’m not beating the shit out of Armenians or intercepting shipments—I’m at the loft. Fixing it up. Repainting walls. Replacing furniture. Leaving pieces of her there like breadcrumbs in case she decides to follow them.
Or maybe I’m just haunting myself with a life I don’t deserve.
