I've always admired people like that. Not because I want to be them. But because I find it fascinating.
The complete inability to recognize that not everyone sees them the way they see themselves.
Camilla probably walked into this room thinking Bruno would still want her. Still need her. That his marriage was just an obstacle. A temporary inconvenience.
She never considered that she might not matter to him at all.
"She's gone."
Bruno's voice pulls me back.
I look down at him. His face is still tight. But some of the tension has drained from his shoulders.
"Old friend?" I ask.
"No." The word is sharp. Final.
I don't push. Whatever history exists between Bruno and Camilla, it's not my business. Not really.
Bruno is quiet for a moment. His eyes scan the room. Then they return to me.
"How did you know?"
I frown. "Know what?"
"That I needed to get away." He gestures vaguely toward the spot where we were standing before. Where the woman with her brave and strong had cornered him. "You appeared out of nowhere. Made an excuse. Got me out."
I consider the question.
The truth is, I don't have an answer.
I was talking to someone. A woman whose name I've already forgotten. Nodding along to a conversation about summer homes in Lake Como.
And then I looked across the room.
Saw Bruno's face.
And I just... knew.
"I don't know," I admit. "I just... sensed it."
Bruno stares at me. His dark eyes search my face like he's looking for a lie.
He won't find one.
"You sensed it," he repeats.
"Yes."
"No one senses anything about me." His voice is flat. "I don't let them."
I shrug. "Maybe you're not as unreadable as you think."
Bruno doesn't respond.
The party continues around us. Laughter. Conversation. The clink of glasses.
But here, by the windows, it feels like we're in our own bubble. Separate from everything else.