go back there without me.” He pressed his lips together in thought. “Technically, I’m no more Italian than Olivia. A mutt, just like she is. And I’ve only visited once, plus the time I was stationed in Sicily.”
“You’re pretty Italian to me,” I said. “Given how you grew up. You speak the language and everything.”
“I speak a bastardized version, just like every other kid on my block,” he said. “I just…” And then he frowned. “Promise you won’t go to Italy without me?”
I smiled, like he was making a joke. “Okay, I promise.”
“No, really, doll. Promise. I can’t really explain it, but I don’t want you or Olivia there unless I can see it for myself.”
My smile dropped. “Okay. I promise.”
This time, I was the sad one because I had to lie. But then again, his smile was just as sad. Because I think he knew it too.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The rest of the day passed in relative peace as Matthew accompanied me first around Wellesley to register for my classes, then to meet with a real estate agent to look at a few houses for rent in the northwestern suburbs of Boston. When he wasn’t purposefully trying to rile me up, Matthew was a delight. And so we continued, and I tried not to think about the fact that eventually this day would end, and we would be back to our normal of trying (and, it seemed failing) to associate with one another out of pure survival.
“It’s not funny,” I protested as we drove away from the realtor’s office in Brookline.
I had turned down the four properties she offered. She had promised to come up with a fresh list within a few days, but I didn’t have my hopes up. I was going to have to buy again, I knew it, which meant I likely wouldn’t be able to move for a month at the earliest.
“It is funny. I’ve never seen you shop before. You’re like the Queen of fuckin’ England, tapping around with your pointed finger.”
Matthew giggled. The man actually giggled, somehow made it look attractive, and it was at my expense. He propped up his hat, stuck out his nose and flopped his hand forward in the most irritating fashion as he continued his imitation.
“Tell me,” he said in a fake British accent that didn’t sound a thing like me, “are you really trying to convince me these floors are original oak when they are clearly laminate?”
“It was a perfectly fair question,” I protested. “I won’t be taken advantage of like that.”
“Come on, doll. You were a little hard on her.”
“Let me tell you something, Mr. Zola,” I returned. “People see this, and they don’t always see someone worth reckoning with. They see the pretty face and the blonde hair, and they assume I haven’t got anything but air between my ears. And then they see the big ring and the designer purse and assume I also have a lot to take. I have to act like that and ask abhorrent questions that way. If I don’t, I’m not given one iota of respect.”
“All right, all right.” Matthew patted me on the leg again—he’d been doing that a lot, I noticed—and offered a rueful grin. “I apologize, baby. But you do realize it only makes you that much more of a duchess, don’t you?”
I shrugged as I turned down Chestnut Lane. “As long as it’s not a princess, I can accept that. Besides…” I pulled to a stop in front of my sweet dilapidated white house. “How can I sign a lease when I have the perfect home right here already? It might be full of vagrants at the moment, but it’s mine.”
Matthew didn’t answer. He was no longer relaxed, but sitting forward on the edge of his seat while he peered at the house, seeming to take in all of its elements and flaws.
“This is your perfect home?” he asked, clearly aghast.
“Well, it was ten years ago. But I could bring her back to life, I’m sure of it. God, look at that awful van.” I noted the large brown thing taking up most of the driveway. “That wasn’t there yesterday.”
“It wasn’t?” Matthew pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.
“No,” I said. “So what do we do now? Call the police, do you think? Skylar checked last night. There is no lease on record for this property—”
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Matthew cut in. “Most landlords don’t record leases anyway. In most states, no one is