The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,50
to her knees.
“This is all my fault,” she says dully. “I suspected something was wrong twenty-four hours ago. I shouldn’t have listened to her. I could have prevented this.”
“You don’t know that,” I say, clearing a space next to her on the floor. “Plus, it seemed like she was getting better. I thought she was over the worst of it when I saw her at dinner. How were you to know something like this would happen?”
“I shouldn’t have let her get another injection,” she continues, through gritted teeth. “Maybe she was getting better, but the second shot is what did it.”
“This isn’t your fault.” I rest my hand on her arm. “You didn’t create the RRB, and you didn’t force her to take it. You tried to get her help and she refused. As someone who knows a thing or two about guilt . . .” I take a deep breath. “You have to let it go.”
She is quiet for a moment. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Her eyes roam back to Suki’s empty bed. “There’s no way I’m going to sleep tonight.”
“I can . . . stay here with you. For as long as you want.”
She smiles slightly. “Thank you. I really don’t want to be alone right now.”
I smile back, something stirring in my chest as I look at her.
“I need a distraction.” Naomi sighs, leaning her head back against the bed. She glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “You know where I always wanted to go, before the floods?”
“Where?”
“Italy,” she says. “I had this dream folder at home, where I’d store photos and articles of places I wanted to go, things I wanted to do. I pictured taking this victory trip with my brother one day, when he was all better. The plan was to spend three weeks going between Venice, Florence, Rome, and the Amalfi Coast, seeing all the landmarks and tasting all the regional dishes along the way.” Her smile fades. “It would have been amazing.”
“I wish you could have seen it too,” I say quietly. “Maybe, if things had been different . . . we would have met there instead.”
“Yeah.” She is silent for a moment, and then she asks, “Will you tell me about it? Rome?”
A fist closes around my heart. It’s been so long since I’ve let myself remember what it was really like—when the Colosseum and the Spanish Steps stood on dry land. When my family was alive. But the images are already rushing to my mind, and I hear myself start to speak.
“Maybe everyone thinks their city is the center of the world, but Rome really was. We had history right in our backyard—the Gladiators’ stadium, Vatican City. We had Michelangelo, Fellini. But even with all the history, somehow it never felt old. The city was filled with loud, pulsing life. Everywhere you went, there were people of all ages in cafés and restaurants, out in the nightclubs, cheering in the streets for the football teams on game day. I loved the noise.”
“Sounds awesome,” Naomi says, closing her eyes. I can tell her body is relaxing, her tight shoulders loosening, and I continue.
“Even though it was technically a big city, there was a closeness among the locals. My neighbors were all involved in each other’s lives. If I went out with a girl once, Mrs. Conti next door would ask about her for weeks afterward.” I laugh. “My family’s pensione hosted a regular Sunday lunch for the locals and hotel guests. We stuffed ourselves with six courses of food, and then my mother would sit at the piano and everyone would sing the classic Italian songs—the songs we all knew by heart. Sometimes we’d be there for hours. Angelica had an amazing voice. The rest of us were just loud, but she could really sing.”
Naomi shifts a little closer to me, as I feel some part of myself leaving this room—returning home, bringing my family back to life. I look down at the Danieli signet ring on my finger, tracing the cursive letter D with my thumb.
“It was paradise. And . . . I guess I’m lucky I got to experience it, before it was all gone.”
“It sounds like heaven.” Naomi rests her head on my shoulder. We stay like that for minutes or hours—time seems to disappear—until the sound of her soft breathing lets me know she’s managed to fall asleep.
As gently as I can, I lift her into my arms and onto the bed.