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I continue to play my role as Pilar's memorial service begins, and I take my place on the front pew with people I should see as my family.

But I don't.

My parents were my family, but they're dead.

The Marchettis are my family, but I'm the one who's been avoiding their calls...because they remind me of the one that matters the most.

And of course that person is him.

He's my home. My owner. My everything.

But Cesare is acting like he no longer knows me.

THROWING UP HAS BEENmy favorite hobby lately. And honestly, it's also the only thing that's made me feel alive, ever since I woke up to a world where Cesare and I are suddenly leading separate lives.

I threw up when Massimo told me about Cesare's arrest. Threw up when I accidentally saw photos of Pilar's corpse. I threw up before writing my first and only letter to Cesare, and I threw upyet again when Massimo grimly says he can no longer help me write another letter to his brother.

I threw up when I saw Cesare on the 6:00 news, threw up before attending Pilar's service, and I threw up again afterwards, with my mind strangely taking delight in torturing me with nightmares where my grandmother has been buried alive by mistake, and she's screaming that it's all my fault, for loving the man who killed her.

I KNOW IT'S NOT TODAY, God.

But it no longer feels right to continue living in Cesare's apartment and sleeping in his bed and eating food bought by his money—-when the owner of all these things seem hell-bent on getting rid of me.

The son of Pilar's attorney, who's also a lawyer himself, has arranged for funds to be deposited to my account. I've also supposedly inherited a couple of properties, but for now I think I just need a place of my own, and one that's completely free of any memories.

I know it's not today, God.

But I'm terrified that I'll start to forget what really matters, and I think that's what will inevitably happen, if I spend another night in his home. Everywhere I look, I remember him. I remember us. I remember how we used to be, and it hurts. It hurts to remember all those things...and not have an idea if I can ever have any of it back.

I know it's not today, God.

I know I said that while Cesare stills breathe, I have reason to hope. I know I said what matters most is that he's alive. I remember everything I said. And it's because I still believe in all of those things that I need to leave.

I need to go away even just for a while, I need to be somewhere I can find myself...because it's also getting harder and harder to pretend that my mind is still glued to my body, even when it isn't.

Each day seems to bring more pain lately, that I feel like I've turned into this stupid, little balloon floating around aimlessly, just waiting for someone to either puncture my fragile grasp on life so I can finally expire—-or someone to grab on to me so that I'll remember what it means to be anchored.

IT'S MY FIRST NIGHTback in New York, and Greg is already waiting for me in Rufino's when I arrive at the restaurant. Ever the perfect gentleman, the son of Pilar's legal counsel comes to his feet as soon as he sees me, and I absently notice how he's attractive enough to draw other women's gazes.

"So..." A friendly grin curves over his lips. "We finally meet."

I'm secretly surprised when I manage to return his smile without having to force it. "Yup." Greg and I have only been talking to each other on Zoom before this, and another surprise is how he's much taller than I imagined.

"Well, just to make things official..." He pulls his wallet out of his pocket, but something else falls out, and I blink in surprise as he bends down to swipe a black-colored die with unusual markings from the floor before shoving it back into his pocket.

"Is it some kind of charm?" I can't help asking curiously.

"Something like that," he acknowledges wryly.

"Is it a lawyer thing or afamigliathing?"

"A little bit of both...just like this is." It's a perfectly executed segue, and I can only smile as he offers me his business card with both hands.

"Thank you." The card looks and feels fancy, with gold lettering printed on a textured black surface.

Gregorio Buffon

Anatra Law Group LLC