Page 23 of Mine Again (Mafia Bride #2)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Isabella

I pick the café for my second date with Andrea a few days later.

It’s small, tucked beneath the curve of a stone alleyway with vines creeping up the walls and mismatched furniture scattered beneath wide umbrellas. It’s quirky, low-key and has the added benefit of being close to home.

I choose a table near the edge, where I can watch the street. I’m not nervous, exactly, but more excited to see how today’s date is going to go.

The more I replay our first meeting, which, really, was my first real date ever, the more I convince myself that he’s exactly what I need for this next phase of my life.

Someone simple.

Someone easy-going.

Someone whose smile reaches his eyes.

Talking with Andrea was easy, like the banter I share with my sisters. Luca was different. More intense. More beautiful, yes. But more all-consuming.

Andrea is attractive in a more grounded way. Less Greek god, more guy-next-door .

I won’t have to worry about women throwing themselves at him or constantly wonder who he’s texting.

And I loved laughing with him. God, I missed that. I haven’t really laughed like this since Luca.

I check my phone. He’s not late, but he’s not early like last time.

Luca was never late. Never kept me waiting. But maybe that’s not the kind of devotion I need anymore.

I order a cappuccino and an americano for Andrea, and by the time I’ve stirred the sugar into my drink twice, I finally see him.

He’s walking fast, weaving between tables with a distracted energy radiating off him. His smile flashes bright when he spots me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Hmm.

And when he sits down, his eyes barely meet mine.

“Sorry,” he says, a little breathless. “I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

“It’s okay,” I say, studying him. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes.” A pause. “No. I mean… good. It’s good.”

He laughs, but it’s thin and uncertain.

I raise an eyebrow. “Want to try that again?”

He exhales, raking a hand through his hair. The smile settles. This time it’s real, even if it’s trembling at the edges.

“I got promoted this morning.”

I blink. “That’s amazing. Andrea, congratulations!”

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly.

“Thanks. It’s… kind of a big deal. More responsibility. A real team under me. Better pay, obviously.”

He trails off.

“But?” I prompt gently.

He looks at me, and in that moment, I know. Before he even says it.

My smile slips.

Just beneath my ribs, a sharp, unexpected pang makes tears prick my eyes .

I don’t understand why. This was only our second date. But there was potential, and apparently, that’s about to die a quiet, awkward death.

“It’s in Milan.”

The pang sinks into my stomach, heavy and unreasonably hollow.

“That’s…” I force a smile, searching for something safe to say. “That’s amazing. Really. Milan’s huge.”

Andrea nods, but the glow on his face is already fading. “Yeah. It is.”

I glance away, blinking quickly to clear my vision.

Get it together, Isa. This isn’t Luca.

But still…

Is that what this reminds me of?

No, it’s not the same.

But the ache is familiar. Too familiar.

There’s a beat of silence between us, and he picks at the edge of his napkin.

“I hate that I have to cut this short,” he says softly. “I have to be in Milan tomorrow morning. They want me there first thing to meet the regional director before he leaves for the holidays. I’m meant to take over in case of emergencies.”

Emergencies? In accounting? Over Christmas? Come on.

I don’t say it out loud, but I definitely think it.

“Oh.” It escapes before I can catch it.

“But I couldn’t leave without seeing you. I needed to tell you in person. You’ve been… wonderful, Isa. I really looked forward to getting to know you more.”

I nod, even though the words sting.

“It means a lot you came. And I get it. You can’t say no to something like that.”

He reaches across the table and brushes my hand. It’s brief, a flicker of contact, but it lights up a quiet ache all the same.

“If the timing were different…”

I offer a smile, aiming for polite but landing closer to tight .

“It’s okay. Really.”

We sip our drinks in silence, and all I can think is that another man is walking away.

Am I being dramatic? Absolutely.

And I know, logically, Andrea isn’t leaving me.

But it still feels like rejection, and rejection has a way of scraping open old wounds.

The sting sharpens into something sour.

It’s always the timing. The circumstance. The things I have no control over.

Argh!

They keep messing with my life like the universe is playing some cruel joke on me.

I hate being this powerless!

Dread fills me. Now I have to return to that horrible dating app to find someone new.

Dammit .

Andrea was so perfect in that sea of shirtless mirror selfies, unsolicited pet names, and flat-out weirdos. He was the one normal, decent guy in the entire digital dumpster fire. And now he’s moving. Just like that.

What have I done to deserve that, Universe?

Anger rises and fills the space where helplessness sat moments ago.

Good. I can work with anger.