“Come in,” she muttered sarcastically, as she leaned against the door. He spun around to face her, his chest moving now with the force of his breathing.
“I told myself I wouldn’t come here.”
“You didn’t listen to yourself, evidently.” She had no idea how she was managing to sound sonormalwhen her insides were sparking like crazy.
“Just…don’t say anything,” he said, holding a hand up to silence her, which incensed Willow even more than his presence alone had.
“What the actual fuck? Are you seriously coming to my house and telling me not to talk?”
He closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he drew in then pushed out a deep breath.
“Are you seeing him again?”
Willow felt the world shift beneath her. She hadn’t even thought that Francesco might have seen the photos.
“You told me it was over.”
“It was over,” she said, and when Francesco opened his eyes and looked at her, she felt a wall of feelings ram against her.
“But now?”
She hesitated. For some reason, she felt like she needed to keep some kind of protective cloak in place, and maybe Tom was that? But she couldn’t lie to Francesco. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t know,” he said, after a long, stretched pause. “But I do.”
Something like hope burst in her heart but she forced herself to ignore it. To wall it off.
She knew Francesco well enough to know that being jealous wasn’t the same thing as being ready to put aside your innerwounds and move on with your life. And ironically, it was thanks to Francesco that she really knew she’d never settle for less than total commitment. At one time, she’d thought maybe just taking the breadcrumbs he offered would be enough, but she knew better now.
She opened the door and held it wide, looking at him pointedly. “Well, thanks for sharing. Is that all?”
His expression tightened. “I’ll go,” he said, lifting a hand placatingly now. “Just tell me if you’re involved with him. Though I don’t know why I’m even asking, the pictures made it pretty clear.”
“You should know better than anyone that just because two people look like a couple, it doesn’t mean they are.”
He moved closer, eyes probing hers. “What does that mean?”
Her heart throttled in her throat. “I don’t know why I’m even answering this,” she sniffed. “You hardly deserve an explanation.”
“Please, Willow.”
It was the ‘please’ that did it. She felt all the fight leave her body and almost had to slump against the door. “We were giving each other’s stuff back. It was a goodbye, Francesco, nothing more.”
He stared at her, his jaw clenched, body taut, and nodded slowly. “Okay, then.”
“Okay,” she repeated, nodding, her throat stinging suddenly. She blinked quickly. “Can you go, now?”
“Do you want me to go?”
This was so cruel. She dug her fingernails into her palm, staring at him for a long beat. “I think you need to.” Because otherwise, she might do something stupid and beg him to stay. Not just for today, but longer. Forever?
“Please,” she whispered, holding the door even wider.
He looked beyond it, onto the street, like it was a portal through which he was reluctant to travel, but then, he walked towards it, pausing as he passed to glance down at her, then walking outside.
Willow expelled a long sigh as she closed it and leaned against it for the physical support she’d badly needed.
Which meant she startled when a minute later, he thumped against the wood of the door.