Page 94 of 32 Days in May

Liv nods. “You will be.” She reaches over and wipes her wet fingers on my arm. I squirm and grimace at her. “I’m not helping you carry your stuff up.”

“Jeez. Lazy.”

I don’t really have anything to carry upstairs. My purse, a plastic bag filled with medication, and some clothes. I make my way up the old wooden steps that lead to our door and find that, weirdly, it’s ajar. I can see into the apartment and all the lights are off. Soph or Allie must have dropped by.

“Soph?” I call out as I push my way into the apartment. “Allie?”

There’s a shadow, a figure stirring by the kitchen island. My entire body tenses with pure terror. “Hello?”

The shadow shifts and a gasp sticks in my throat. I reach for the doorknob, fumbling with the metal as I try to backtrack. “Liv?” I call out feebly, but it’s too late. She can’t hear me now.

Then, the lights flicker on.

The figure before me is frowning, arms folded over his chest, a gentle tumble of wavy hair swept sweetly behind his ears. Wearing his reading glasses. Looking like he stepped out of an episode of Baywatch.

“Surprise,” he says.

My legs soften and my bags slowly slide from my arms to the floor.

The look on Marco’s face transforms from serious to deep concern in a nanosecond, and he moves swiftly toward me, arms opening wide to catch me if I fall forward. And I just might. He looks nervous—beautiful but nervous, eyebrows tented with anxiety. “Easy,” he says. “Easy.”

I recoil from his open arms, flattening my body against the door. “W-what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Your sister texted me,” he says very precisely. “She said she was dropping you off. She told me to get a key from Soph. I figured she hadn’t told you, but I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh my God . . .” My hands make a shaky grab for my hairline. I’m dizzy. I reach out to steady myself against the wall, but instead my hand finds something soft—Marco’s chest. He’s so close, I can almost hear his ragged breathing.

“Nadia.” His lips. They’re soft and warm and pressed against my temple. Kissing me? “Please sit. You need to sit.”

“No . . .” I try to pry myself away from him, but his fingers find my elbow and guide me to the couch. He keeps guiding me until the fabric meets the backs of my knees, and I’m able to sit. “Y-you’re here. You talked to my sister, and now you’re here?”

Marco nods curtly, settling beside me. “She told me everything and she sort of . . . warned me. Told me it may be a little while before you could reach out. She said you were spooked.”

I clear my throat, but my voice still comes out hoarse. “That’s one way to put it.”

He looks tired.

“Nadia, I wish you’d told me sooner. I wish I’d had time t-to—to be better. I wish I could have—”

“No,” I cut in, my voice hoarse and angry. “No, I didn’t want you to know.”

His eyebrows drop together, his mouth twisting into a tight, sideways frown. “I realize how complicated I made this situation between us. I take responsibility for that. But what if you’d had a seizure in Rome? What . . . what if something worse had happened and I didn’t know how to help you?”

“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you,” I manage through clenched teeth. “It would be all you thought about the whole time. It would have been the only me you saw. There wouldn’t have been room for any other version of Nadia. Just worry and medicine and exhaustion and neediness—”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry—I don’t want to make you upset—”

“See! You just did it, right there.” I’m trying to raise my voice, but it just cracks with the effort of my desperation. “I do not need to be lectured right now,” I continue. “I did what I did because I wanted to, okay? We never promised each other anything. We said we’d date for May and that was that. How was I supposed to know I’d fucking fall head over heels for you?”

Marco can’t argue with that. Instead, he leans forward and presses the palms of his hands together. “I should have never left things with you the way I did. I should have never left you for a stupid work trip. How do you know this isn’t because of the stress I put you under?”

I pull a throw pillow to my chest, and I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. “Because . . . I’ve been this bad before. Maybe . . . maybe not quite this bad. But I’ve been really sick. When I met you, my medicine was working. Finally. And I was working. So, I faked it. I know that makes me selfish—”

“It doesn’t,” he cuts in, leaning forward to lay a hand over my knee. The comfort this gesture brings me is instant.

“Yes, it does,” I say, trying to keep my voice harsh and steady, but I can feel myself being pulled back to him. I don’t want to be harsh. “I don’t care if I’m selfish. I’m happy I did it, and I’d do it again. This month with you has been the best of my life. It fixed me.” I spit this at him like it’s an insult. “No one has ever treated me the way you do. No one. I lied, and I hurt you, just so I could hold on to that. Don’t you think you deserve better? Someone who you can take to Rome without being afraid that they’ll fall apart?”

“Hey.” Marco flexes his fingers, still around my knee, sliding close to me. Hold me, I want to say. Let’s just forget everything for now. “You just said this was the best month of your life—what do you think it was for me, Nadia? Do you think before May fourth I was just living my fucking dream? I’m not perfect—you saw how imperfect I can be. Don’t you deserve someone better?”