me.” He squeezed Jane’s hand, and it was clear what he meant. “But I’m sorry I left you behind. We were close once. I hope we can be again, you know.”
I remained quiet for a long time, trying and failing to process everything he had said. I didn’t know what to make of any of this. Not Eric’s apology. Not his revelations before that.
“Thank you,” I said numbly, keeping my eyes trained on the fire as my mind swam with confusion.
“It’s not too late for you, coz. Not if you really want.”
The conversation died, and for a moment, I could feel the other three pairs of eyes fixed on me—all of whom, it was clear, were eager to help me however they could.
Would they still feel that way, I wondered, if they knew all I had done to help Calvin?
It must have been clear I wasn’t going to say anything, because after a moment, Jane turned to Eric and whispered something in his ear. My cousin’s expression, which was generally unreadable, assumed a peculiar heat that I also wasn’t used to seeing in my family, but which I knew somehow, his wife managed to produce regularly. It might have made me uncomfortable if I wasn’t so happy for him.
And so very riddled with envy.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Eric said as he stood up to follow Jane. “We’re, ah, tired. I need to put Jane to bed.”
And without waiting for any response, they left Matthew and me to watch the final flickers of the dying fire. And each other.
Chapter Thirty-One
“What are you thinking?” Matthew asked after Jane and Eric escaped to the house.
I was hypnotized by the embers left from the once-crackling fire. I wanted to watch the flames grow high again. Maybe throw myself into them.
But the embers just glowered with a soft, slow burn.
“What am I thinking?” I repeated as if in a trance.
The tips of Matthew’s black sneakers shone on the other side of the fire, and like a magnet, my vision was drawn up his long legs, past the belt around his taut waist, past the chest just bared through a few undone buttons, and to his face, with those sooty eyes always cast with desire. The kind that echoed so deep in my bones, I could hardly breathe for want.
And then my reality came roaring back.
It wasn’t Celeste’s fault that Penny died.
Eric’s voice was another echo, but instead of fading away, it only grew louder and louder. Along with another thought in the back of my mind.
If she didn’t kill Penny…maybe she didn’t kill Peppe either.
Suddenly, it wasn’t just a thought, but a full-blown certainty. And the force of it broke me.
“What am I thinking?” I said again, now unable to keep the shaking from my voice. “I’m thinking…you really don’t want to know what I’m thinking, Matthew.”
“Yes, I do.” His voice was strangely calm, almost choked. “Don’t hide from me, doll. I want to know it all.”
“Why?” I swallowed, feeling like a massive lump was stuck in my throat. Everything felt wrong. My skin was starting to crawl.
She didn’t kill them. Oh, God. Was it really true?
“Because,” Matthew said. “You need to spit it out, baby. I’m here. I’ll listen.”
“I’m thinking I’ve been the greatest, biggest fool on the planet.” I choked, the words like fire in my mouth. “I’m thinking that all the reasons I gave up my entire life for ten whole years didn’t exist.”
“You mean what Eric said about Penny?”
I nodded miserably. “I thought…God, I can’t believe I ever thought this. But I swear, Matthew, when I came home from Florence, pregnant with Olivia, I truly believed there was a chance that my grandmother would do something terrible to me. And then, a year later, when I was just thinking of leaving Calvin and going back to Italy…he was dead.”
“Who?” Matthew leaned forward, tense with interest. “Who was dead, Nina?”
I hiccupped back a dry sob. “P-Peppe. Giuseppe. My—Olivia’s father.”
“You thought she killed him?”
“I don’t know what I thought anymore.”
I rubbed my face hard. Everything seemed to be stuck. I felt like I had been living inside of a house of mirrors that had just been smashed, but I was still buried under the shards.
“She didn’t do it,” I whimpered into my hands. “Oh God, she didn’t do it. None of it was ever necessary. Not my marriage. Not any of it!”
“It’s still not,” Matthew said gently. “Or it won’t be. Hopefully soon.”
“As if that matters now,” I said bitterly. “Look at me.