Page 22 of My Ghost

Lily’s probably right, I should lie low for a bit.

I log out with a frustrated groan, shut the laptop and turn on the TV to flip through channels until I land on something mindless enough to keep me company.I let the white noise fill the room as I sink deeper into the cushions, eyes fluttering shut long before the credits roll.

The rest of the week goes by the same way, uneventful and blessedly draining.Then Friday arrives, and with it, dinner at the new restaurant Chiara’s been raving about.She invited the whole group.And by the whole group, I meanhim, too.

I know that he might be there.But I’ve had a whole week to put myself back together, to remember who I am.And now I’m ready to face him with a clear mind and a steady smile.I’m more than ready to prove, if only to myself, that I’m not the girl who breaks simply because someone didn’t choose her.I am in control.

The restaurant is luxurious without being too ostentatious.It is located in a quiet corner of the waterfront and I already know that the view alone will be worth the while.I arrive right on time, dressed in a breezy dress the color of lavender and black heeled ankle boots.

Chiara spots me first and waves me over to the table by the window.

They are all already there.Damiano and Lucas are deep in their usual brotherly banter, or rather, Lucas banters while Damiano hides his amusement behind a scowl.Lucas is gesturing wildly with a breadstick while Chiara rolls her eyes fondly.Lily catches my eye and offers a soft smile and a small wave.She looks serene, glowing even, one hand resting unconsciously on the curve of her belly.

Then there’s him.

Matteo.

He’s at the far end of the table, half-turned, in conversation with Damiano and Lucas, one hand casually draped over the back of the empty chair next to him.He’s in a black suit, no tie, shirt collar open just enough to show the swirls of dark ink creeping up his neck, and my stomach clenches in spite of myself.His dark hair is swept back, jaw shadowed in that permanent five-o’clock

stubble I swear I can still feel scraping over my skin.He doesn’t look up.

Thank God.

But I feel him, the awareness of him crackles like static before lightning, coiling around my belly to travel south to my—Stop, Erin!

I plant a radiant smile on my face, hug Lily and Chiara, and wave a general greeting around, the same way I always do.Then I drag a chair from a neighboring table and place it beside Lily.When I slide into the plush seat, I am the same cheery self as usual.If anything, I sparkle harder, letting my energy bubble to the surface.I glide into the conversation effortlessly, teasing, joking, smiling wide enough to convince even myself.I talk to everyone, I make Lucas laugh so hard he nearly snorts water.I compliment Chiara’s earrings.I even offer Damiano a mock-innocent grin when he raises a brow at something snarky I say.

I’m my usual sunshine and sass, radiating nothing but light.

But I never once look at Matteo.

Not when I glimpse his fingers brushing the rim of his glass like he is thinking too hard.Not when his low voice rumbles something I don’t quite catch.Not even when I feel his gaze on me, heavy and scorching, leaving my skin tingling and my stomach roiling.

He doesn’t exist tonight.

Because I’ve already been broken once, and it has cost me to build myself up again.This mask of joy, this bright armor is my way forward.My way of sayingyou don’t get to break me.

So I talk and I laugh, and I make everyone feel like they’re the only person at the table when I speak to them.

Except him.I don’t speak to him once.

Chapter Fourteen

Matteo

She didn’t talk to me once.She didn’t even fucking look at me once.

When she walked in she was the same sunny and confident woman as always, laughing as she hugged Lily and Chiara.Then she moved a goddamn chair and sat down on the other side of the table, ignoring the free seat right next to me.

When she attracted every gaze in the room without even trying, when I saw the admiring looks men threw her way, I wanted to punch something so badly that my hands shook.

She is her usual self—warmth, charm and blinding light.

And I sit there, frozen in my chair, watching her light up the room with her presence.Hell, I thought she’d at least look at me.Let me see a flicker of something real.Hurt, maybe even resentment.But no, nothing.She doesn’t even spare me a polite acknowledgment.She doesn’t glance my way once.

Apparently, she’s over it.And I should be relieved.I should be grateful she’s making this easy.So why the hell does this feel worse?Why do I feel like she just…stood up and walked away from a wreckage I’m still sitting in?

Now, she’s bantering with Luc again and they’re both laughing so hard they have to wipe away tears of mirth.I’ve never wanted to strangle that fucker so badly more than I do right now.Bile creeps up in my throat, acid like old coffee.I take a slow sip of wine to cover the fact that I’m clenching my jaw so tightly it hurts.