know.
“I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Why are you not sure?”
He laughs and then playfully nudges me with
his foot. “So many questions.”
I keep my gaze fixed on him, letting him
know that I’m awaiting his answer.
He sighs loudly. “Do you know what entitled
means?”
I furrow my brow, telling him that I do not
understand the meaning.
“It’s like when you expect things to happen
for you, just because of who you are.”
I nod my head, yes.
“Well, that was Sofia. She was always so
entitled. She expected everything to happen for her just because of who she
was.”
It’s the first time I’ve heard her name and
I repeat it in my mind. Sofia . Such a
beautiful name and I find myself jealous of a woman I’ve never met.
“Do you miss her?” I hold my breath,
waiting in anticipation for his response. I don’t know why, but his answer
means something to me.
“I don’t know. I haven’t given her much
thought, so if that’s any indication then no. I guess I don’t miss her.”
He clears his throat before continuing. “At
the time, I thought she was what I needed, but in the end she was the opposite
of what I wanted. One day I woke up and realized my heart wasn’t in it, so I
ended things.”
I place my hand between us. I want to cover
his hand with mine, but my courage wavers and I pull my hand back to my own
lap.
“She was upset, no?”
He cocks his head to the side and looks at
me for a long moment. “She was, but she will be okay.”
I wonder what this Italian girlfriend looks
like. If she’s tall like Callum and if she has beautiful blue
eyes to match his.
“My father isn’t happy that we broke up. He
liked her.” He shakes his head. “He liked her family.”
“Her family?”
“Her father was a powerful man in Italy.”
“A bad man?” I ask.
Callum chuckles. “He’s a politician, so I
guess he could be considered a bad man. Her mother was nice though.”
“What about your mother,” I question. “Was
she a good woman?”
He nods his head, but he doesn’t comment.
“I want to ask you, and I understand if you
don’t want to tell me, but where is your mother?”
I watch multiple expressions cross his
face. Surprise. Sadness. Anguish. I don’t mean to dampen his mood, but it’s
something I’ve wondered about for all these years. Who was Emmy and where did
she go?
“She had cancer,” he croaks out.
“I’m sorry.”
He offers me a somber smile. “It was quick,
she didn’t suffer long.”
“You miss her, no?”
He nods his head. “I do.”
He looks sad for a moment, his eyes meeting
mine. “In the same way your mother misses you.”
“You think my mother still thinks about me? ” I ask.
“Every day,” he answers softly.
“She would have given up on me.”
“Never.” His fingertips graze my arm in a
completely innocent gesture, but goose bumps still rise on my skin in response.
“I’m sure she knows you’re alive. She can feel it.”
I don’t think about home often, it hurts
too much remembering. The memories trigger an ache deep inside my chest.
“What was your mother like?” I ask. “Was
she kind like you?”
He looks at my face, his lips turning down
at the sides. Maybe my question was too much, too personal, but then he starts
talking again.
“She was a good mom, but a better wife. She
was married to the town too.” He swallows, his eyes focus on a piece of lint
he’s been rolling between his fingers. “She liked that my father needed her,
but there was always something missing, some sadness that I sensed.”
“Do you think your father used to… ” I can’t finish the sentence.
“I don’t think so.” His eyes meet mine. “I
don’t think she would have stuck around.”
He is silent for a long moment, as if he’s
really thinking about things, analyzing the past few years of his mother’s
life.
“But who knows, Leila. I wouldn’t have
thought my father would lock a woman in the basement and
“I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Why are you not sure?”
He laughs and then playfully nudges me with
his foot. “So many questions.”
I keep my gaze fixed on him, letting him
know that I’m awaiting his answer.
He sighs loudly. “Do you know what entitled
means?”
I furrow my brow, telling him that I do not
understand the meaning.
“It’s like when you expect things to happen
for you, just because of who you are.”
I nod my head, yes.
“Well, that was Sofia. She was always so
entitled. She expected everything to happen for her just because of who she
was.”
It’s the first time I’ve heard her name and
I repeat it in my mind. Sofia . Such a
beautiful name and I find myself jealous of a woman I’ve never met.
“Do you miss her?” I hold my breath,
waiting in anticipation for his response. I don’t know why, but his answer
means something to me.
“I don’t know. I haven’t given her much
thought, so if that’s any indication then no. I guess I don’t miss her.”
He clears his throat before continuing. “At
the time, I thought she was what I needed, but in the end she was the opposite
of what I wanted. One day I woke up and realized my heart wasn’t in it, so I
ended things.”
I place my hand between us. I want to cover
his hand with mine, but my courage wavers and I pull my hand back to my own
lap.
“She was upset, no?”
He cocks his head to the side and looks at
me for a long moment. “She was, but she will be okay.”
I wonder what this Italian girlfriend looks
like. If she’s tall like Callum and if she has beautiful blue
eyes to match his.
“My father isn’t happy that we broke up. He
liked her.” He shakes his head. “He liked her family.”
“Her family?”
“Her father was a powerful man in Italy.”
“A bad man?” I ask.
Callum chuckles. “He’s a politician, so I
guess he could be considered a bad man. Her mother was nice though.”
“What about your mother,” I question. “Was
she a good woman?”
He nods his head, but he doesn’t comment.
“I want to ask you, and I understand if you
don’t want to tell me, but where is your mother?”
I watch multiple expressions cross his
face. Surprise. Sadness. Anguish. I don’t mean to dampen his mood, but it’s
something I’ve wondered about for all these years. Who was Emmy and where did
she go?
“She had cancer,” he croaks out.
“I’m sorry.”
He offers me a somber smile. “It was quick,
she didn’t suffer long.”
“You miss her, no?”
He nods his head. “I do.”
He looks sad for a moment, his eyes meeting
mine. “In the same way your mother misses you.”
“You think my mother still thinks about me? ” I ask.
“Every day,” he answers softly.
“She would have given up on me.”
“Never.” His fingertips graze my arm in a
completely innocent gesture, but goose bumps still rise on my skin in response.
“I’m sure she knows you’re alive. She can feel it.”
I don’t think about home often, it hurts
too much remembering. The memories trigger an ache deep inside my chest.
“What was your mother like?” I ask. “Was
she kind like you?”
He looks at my face, his lips turning down
at the sides. Maybe my question was too much, too personal, but then he starts
talking again.
“She was a good mom, but a better wife. She
was married to the town too.” He swallows, his eyes focus on a piece of lint
he’s been rolling between his fingers. “She liked that my father needed her,
but there was always something missing, some sadness that I sensed.”
“Do you think your father used to… ” I can’t finish the sentence.
“I don’t think so.” His eyes meet mine. “I
don’t think she would have stuck around.”
He is silent for a long moment, as if he’s
really thinking about things, analyzing the past few years of his mother’s
life.
“But who knows, Leila. I wouldn’t have
thought my father would lock a woman in the basement and
Similar Books
