Page 90 of Vicious Intentions
But why say such a thing to me, of all people? Was it meant to get some kind of reaction out of me? To make me ask if he loved this unknown woman back? Or was it just to hurt me? What was the point of any of it?
For a second, I hesitate over whether or not to reply, but before common sense can intervene, my fingers hit the send button.
Me:What are you sorry for?
Caro Mio:I’m just sorry.
Not good enough. Instead of answering again, I slide the phone back into its hiding place. I scoop up my purse and coat next, and I walk out the door.
If only all my problems were as easy to leave behind.
Fun was exactly what the rest of the day turned into. Not once did Raffaele or that God-awful phone call cross my mind. Instead, I spent the time enjoying my siblings.
Stella, Frankie, Isobel, and I ended up at a 90s movie double feature appropriately titledGirls Who Ruled the Decade.First up was10 Things I Hate About You, followed byShe’s All That. The movies were predictable, a little cheesy, and absolutely perfect for lifting my spirits.
Our girls’ afternoon got cut short when Lucky, Kirill, and Marcello stopped by the theater, insisting on taking us out for ice cream at the parlor where I work part-time after school. Being there with my coworkers and siblings made everything feel warm and familiar. The rest of the afternoon slipped by in laughter and light teasing.
The fun didn’t stop there. Dinner back at the mansion included my parents, Enzo, and Alejandro, followed by a heated game of Monopoly that stretched well into the early hours of the morning. By two in the morning, my eyelids refused to cooperate, so I dramatically sold every last property I owned to Alejandro, who had been losing spectacularly, for a single dollar.
The only thing I managed to do when I got to my bedroom was brush my teeth and change into pajamas. The second my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light.
Sometime in the middle of the night, a vibration hums beneath my cheek. I blink awake, confused for a moment before remembering the phone tucked inside my pillowcase. Still half asleep, I slide it out and squint at the screen, only to find a flood of texts from…Caro Mio.
That’s the name I’ve chosen to go with when dealing with the after-midnight version of Raffaele.
I only have to skim his texts to see he’s back to being the friend I’ve given so much of myself to these last months.
Caro Mio:You’re upset, and you have every right to be.
Caro Mio:That wasn’t me earlier. I promise you, that it wasn’t.
Caro Mio:The real me would never have treated you so poorly.
Caro Mio:I’m so sorry, Anna. That was not the version of the friend you deserve.
Caro Mio:We are still friends, aren’t we?
Caro Mio:I’m starting to think that call was a bad idea. Why aren’t you texting me back, Anna?
Caro Mio:I can’t sleep without talking to you anymore. Do you know that? Do you know the best part of my day is those few stolen moments where I get to be myself with you?
Caro Mio:Anna, sweetheart, are you there?
Caro Mio:I’m worried now. Please tell me you’re okay. Please.
The anxiety in that last text pulls at me, and to my own annoyance, I send a reply.
Me:I’m here. I’m okay.
His response is immediate.
Caro Mio:Thank Christ. I was starting to panic. Why didn’t you answer me earlier?
When no answer comes, another text follows.
Caro Mio:Silent treatment? I guess I deserve that.
Caro Mio:You’re right in being upset with me. But I promise you, that idiot who talked to you on the phone this morning wasn’t me.
