I’d spent over two years trying to forget about one week. Nothing Melvin said, or was going to say, would help me move on. Clearly, he liked her, respected her. Fine.
Stop talking about her.
“Mona is real good at chess though, never have beat her at that game. But she—”
Enough.
“Hey, I’ll move up here and get this taken care of. Why don’t you get the bags?”
Melvin’s perspective on Mona confused me, unsettled my mind. The man might talk all night about her if I let him, and part of me wanted to let him. But that would’ve been counterproductive.
Stop thinking about her.
I didn’t want to like Mona, nor did I appreciate this urge I’d carried with me, this wanting to know her, the real her, all about her, sketch an accurate likeness of her character. What was the point?
She’d lied to me. She’d pretended to be someone else. Knowing Mona DaVinci better wasn’t going to change that.
Melvin paused his shoveling at my abrupt suggestion, but then he chuckled. “Getting cold?”
Stop wanting her.
I forced a quick, tight smile and nodded. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Melvin took me around to the side door of the house, which was much closer than the path Leo and I had shoveled earlier to the main entrance. We both removed our jackets, boots, gloves, and snow pants and hung them up in the mudroom closet.
“Here, I’ll take the luggage up. Go get warm by the fire in the big room, go see your friends.”
I hesitated, glancing at the small stairway behind him that led to the upper floors, struggling with the desire to seek her out. Bringing her luggage up would be a perfect excuse. Then again, not taking advantage of the opportunity to see her was an opportunity in and of itself.
Stop thinking about her.
“While you’re there, do you mind checking on the fire? Might need more wood,” Melvin called over his shoulder, already on the fifth stair.
Curling my hands into tight fists, I nodded and stepped back, removing myself from the temptation of the suitcases. Watching Melvin disappear up the flight of stairs felt both good—like I’d finally been successful in flexing that self-control muscle—and not good. I stared at the roller case he’d left behind, a hollow, restlessness in my stomach.
Turning toward the faint sound of a piano, I walked out of the mudroom and toward the music, not looking at the remaining bag despite feeling a pull to return, pick up the case, and take it to the third floor where Mona and her friend were staying.
Earlier, when I’d left the house under the guise of helping Leo and Melvin with the snow, the crowd Leo had gathered were in high spirits. I knew most of them, but not all. Leo had this magical superpower of bringing talented people together and making valuable connections within the community he’d built.