Page 87 of Shattered Oath
Before I left the vineyard, Elena had hugged me again at the car.
"I'm sure I'll see you again soon," she'd said, her hands warm on my shoulders. "Take care of yourself, Isabelle. And take care of that heart of yours."
She'd known. Maybe mothers always knew when their sons' hearts were at risk.
Matteo had walked me to the car, kissed me softly—a kiss that tasted like goodbye even though neither of us said the word. He didn't ask me to stay. Didn't beg or plead or pressure.
"Call me," he'd said simply. "When you're ready."
"I will."
"I know you will,Bella. I trust you."
And then I was in the car, and he was getting smaller in the rearview mirror, and I was driving away from something that felt like it could have been everything.
My hotel room in Milan was quiet and impersonal, all clean lines and neutral colors.
I dropped my bag on the bed and stood at the window, looking out at the city. The sun was setting, painting everything in shades of gold and pink.
My phone rang.
Femi.
I stared at his name on the screen, at the photo I still hadn't deleted—him smiling at some event, handsome in a perfectly tailored suit. Let it ring once. Twice.
Then I answered.
"Isabelle." His voice was warm with relief. "I know you're probably still in Tuscany, but I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to hear your voice."
"I'm in Milan, actually. Just got in."
"Oh." A pause. "How was your trip?"
"Good. It was good."
Silence stretched between us, awkward and heavy. I could hear him breathing, could picture him pacing wherever he was, phone pressed to his ear.
"I miss you," he said finally. "I've been thinking about you constantly. About us. About everything."
"Femi—"
"The wedding is coming up soon. We'll both be in Hawaii." He paused,and I could hear the hope threading through his voice. . "Can we talk? Properly? Figure out where we stand?"
I closed my eyes.
Matteo's face swam before me. His patient smile, his gentle hands.I'll be waiting.
And then Femi, the boy I'd loved at seventeen. The man who still held a piece of my heart, whether I wanted him to or not.
"Yes," I said. "We can talk. In Hawaii."
"Really?" Hope flooded his voice.
"I think we need to. Sort things out, one way or another."
"Okay. Yes. Hawaii." He exhaled shakily. "Thank you, Isabelle. For giving me a chance. For not shutting me out completely."
We said goodbye. I hung up and sat on the edge of the bed, my phone heavy in my hands, the weight of my choices pressing down on my shoulders.
