Page 106 of Someone Exactly Like Me (Wounded Hearts 1)
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Nicco
Another restless night as Destiny dominates my every thought. More powerful than my physical desire are the emotions pulsing through me. She’s wrong. I don’t want her just because she won’t let me have her. I want her because she makes me see the world differently. She makes me see myself differently. She has a way of bringing out the beauty in everything and everyone around her. She’s fucking addicting.
And she’s leaving. Worse than that, I can’t make her stay. I have no right to think I could.
The air between us is polite, tense, as we eat breakfast. After we clean up the kitchen, we meet in the living room, bags packed. I drive us to where we’re meeting Marco with his boat to bring us over to Ponza. She’s uncomfortably quiet. I went too far last night. Resisting her is growing increasingly difficult. But I have to. I told her I’d always respect her wishes.
When we board, Marco and I take our bags below deck and Destiny sits on one side of the cockpit. As we get underway, I sit next to Marco, giving her some space. He and I chat as he drives while she looks over the water, her beautiful face etched with sadness. About an hour in, I can’t take the ache in my heart.
Sitting next to her, I take her hand in mine, expecting her to withdraw it. She doesn’t.
“I’m sorry.” I turn my body toward her, putting my other hand on top of hers. “I sometimes find it hard to control myself around you.” I look briefly down at our hands and chuckle softly, returning my eyes to hers. “You don’t make it easy on me.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t need to apologize.” The sweetest smile lifts her mouth. “Let’s enjoy the next few days.”
I smile and nod. “We’ll be there soon.” I lean in and kiss her forehead.
When we arrive at their house, Angelina has lunch prepared for us and invites Destiny for an afternoon of shopping after they drop Franco at her sister’s house for a sleepover. Once they’re gone, Marco and I pour ourselves some wine and play a game of pool.
“So, what’s going on with you two?” he asks, cracking the cue ball into the two-ball, knocking it into the corner pocket.
I groan. “It’s so fucked up.”
“Fucked up how?” He takes a drag of his cigarette. “Seems like things are good with the hand-holding I’ve seen. What’s the last few days been like?”
“She’s unbelievable, this woman. I told you, I’ve never met anyone like her.”
“You do have a track record for dating gorgeous but nasty women who treat you like shit.”
“Don’t I know it.” I get out a cigarette and light it. “You know what she told me?”
“What?”
“She told me I’m good with kids.”
He snaps up his head from his bent over position to line up his shot. “I could’ve told you that because you’re great with Franco, but I know after Ana, you didn’t believe it.” He takes a drag.
“Bro, I fucking know. I ended up telling her about Ana and showing her the letter.”
“Holy fuck.” He straightens himself then sits on the edge of the pool table, scratching his forehead with the thumb of his hand holding his cigarette, staring at me. “What happened?”
“It just came out of me and then yesterday, I took her to the beach and she had me do some kind of burning ceremony thing and I burned the fucking letter.” I hold an imaginary piece of paper in my hand and flick my lighter beneath it. “She had me say some phrases and I almost lost my fucking shit. It’s gone.” I shake my head. “I’ve never felt anything so powerful.” I suck in my gray death. “Her dad is going to try to find Ana and my child. He has connections from his job.”
“No way. That’s amazing.”
“I know. I can’t believe it. And last night, we painted together. I never painted with anyone before. I liked it.”
“What’s happening to you?” He chuckles, getting up from the edge of the table. “Seriously, it’s great to hear you like this, man. I’m happy for you.” He goes back to lining up his shot.
“Don’t be too happy. It all ends when she leaves.” My heart pinches as I say the words.
With one smooth stroke, the cue ball tips the three-ball into the side pocket. “Why?”
“Because it does. It has to. That’s what she wants. It’s what I’m supposed to want. But I don’t.”
“Then tell her.”
