Page 112

And with my parents on either side of me, that was what we did.

We were back to a semblance of what was familiar, and I should’ve been content, but deep down was a gnawing ache of something missing.

Or someone.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

Bianca

It was three a.m. and I couldn’t sleep. I looked around the bedroom I had grown up in. Boxes remained unopened. Mom hadn’t touched anything. My vanity, the bed, what I’d left on them. All untouched. It was as if she was saying that I would always have a place to come home to.

I reached for my new phone and texted Sandro.

I can’t sleep.

His reply was almost instantaneous.

Sandro

Me neither.

How are you?

Fine.

I miss you.

There was no response.

I shifted on the bed and texted again.

I wish you were here.

Again, no response.

He must be busy. Disappointed, I put the phone down. Then it lit up.

Sandro

I’m outside.

What?

Street corner of your house.

I’ll let you in.

You better.

I jumped off the bed. My feet must have sprouted wings at how quickly I exited the bedroom. I had the sense to open and close the door quietly. My bedroom was on the fifth floor of my parents’ row house and it was a wonder I didn’t trip down the stairs in my race to the bottom…

Where I ran into Mom.

She had a glass of water in her hand and her hair was disheveled.

Hmm…