Page 19 of When Forever Falls Apart

The words hang in the air, and I nearly sputter my gin. I study Matteo’s face closely, searching for a hint of jest. His dark brown, almost black hair, falls over his eyes. Anxiously, he combs it back with his fingers as I question, “No, wait, is this for real?”

“Yes, it’s for real. My mother is beside herself because we’re not married, and in the Catholic church, this is a sin. She’s been doubling up on confession, according to my sister,” he says, shaking his head with a desperate kind of humor.

I raise my glass. It’s hard to rein in my shock, but for my friend’s sake, I try to stay calm. “I guess congratulations are in order?”

“Let me make this clear in case you’re not reading the room. I’m going to be a father. To a woman I broke up with,” he clarifies, his expression serious.

My hand immediately falls until the glass I’m holding sits once again on the bar. “So, are you together now? I don’t understand.”

“I promised we would try again. I mean, it’s a kid. My parents have been married for forty-two years,” he explains, the weight of his words lingering between us.

“It was a different time back then. Besides, marriage isn’t the answer to everything,” I counter, trying to find solace in my own convictions. Just as I say it, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I reach into my jeans and pull it out to see the name I have been avoiding at all costs.

Nicole

I miss you. Paris isn’t the same without you here. I know you’re scared, Elliot, but we need to talk. Call me, please.

It wasn’t long ago when we spent the night celebrating a friend’s thirtieth birthday at Les Etoiles. We drank and danced the night away, to crawl home at dawn.

We spent all day in bed, ignoring life outside the four walls of the bedroom. Our conversations were heavy on the night’s hilarious shenanigans, but then, rather quickly, the subject shifted to our future. It was easy to get lost in the moment, fill our future dreams with plans to be together.

We both wanted to live in Paris for the foreseeable future, and Nicole’s friend had a fantastic apartment available a few blocks from my restaurant.

But the next day, Nicole brought it up again, and I soon learned it wasn’t just a mindless conversation.

She said she wanted it all, and I so foolishly agreed.

The following week, I found myself withdrawing and making excuses not to see her. Nicole is an intelligent woman, and she called me out on my behavior. There was no fight, no argument of any sort, but a mutual agreement for space.

Nicole nodded through tears, her pain palpable. As much as it shattered me to see her hurt, I couldn’t ignore my instincts. Eva’s call for me to return came at the perfect time, though I’ll never admit that to her. I packed my bags and left, giving us both space where we can’t possibly cross paths.

I am a fucking coward.

And the damage is done.

“Hey, it’s my sister, Valentina,” Matteo interrupts, nudging me in the direction of the entrance.

I turn my gaze toward a woman who bears an uncanny resemblance to Matteo, waving from across the room. Beside her stands another woman, in a tight black dress that hugs her curves and accentuates her gorgeous figure. Her long golden curls cascade down her back, and as she approaches, our eyes lock.

She’s just the distraction I need.

The two of them stroll over. When they reach the already crowded bar, Matteo introduces his sister. Valentina kisses both my cheeks. Then, as Valentina’s friend, Stassi, introduces herself, she follows with a double kiss, lingering just a bit longer.

“Nice helmet,” she says playfully, raising her voice over the noise in the bar. “You ride?”

“Depends,” I reply with a smirk, my curiosity piqued. “Do you like to ride?”

Her lips curl into a mischievous smile. “Yeah, I love it.”

Matteo orders us a round of Sambuca shots, and suddenly the night is alive. The potent taste doesn’t take long to work its way into my system. There’s no fucking chance I can ride home tonight. I could crash at Aston and Eva’s, or I can take Stassi back to her place, which will be much more fun.

As if she can read my mind, Eva sends a text message.

Eva

You coming? Maddy is here, and I’d really like you to officially meet her.

I slide my cell back into my pocket and ignore my sister. The music swells with a mix of RnB and pop, drawing the crowd into a collective sway. Stassi hands me another shot, her lingering gaze dancing with mischief as she raises her glass to clink with mine.