41. Blake

CHAPTER 41

Blake

“ I don’t understand,” I slur, leaning heavily against an irritated Roman. We’re at Leonidas and he’s been listening to me rant for the past fifteen minutes, or half hour. I don’t know how long we’ve been here, but my head buzzes and my thoughts blur together.

“I am well aware that you don’t understand, Baron, because if you did you wouldn’t be here getting trashed.” He sips his two decade old Macallan. “I warned you about getting involved with Ginevra. Actually, I specifically recall telling you that I wouldn’t be there to pick up the pieces when it all went to shit. I’m usually true to my word.”

“Usually,” I agree. “But I had to call you. Turns out I don’t have many friends.”

“What a surprise.”

I ignore his snarky comment. Deep down, in his recently revitalized heart, I know he cares about me like I do him. We’ve always been there for each other and that’ll never change. Except this time he let me fall flat on my face. Or maybe that’s my own doing and not his fault.

“She tore my heart out with a single sentence.” I shove my phone in Roman’s face and he swats it away. “Who does that?”

“You don’t have a heart, remember?” he quips.

“But I do. Roman, I found it. And this… this crushed it.” I down another shot of bourbon and read the text reply from my wife.

Wife

Fine. I’ll sign the divorce papers.

That’s not the answer I expected when I sent that email. Her reply is cold, aloof. It makes me believe I could drown in this fucking bourbon bottle and she wouldn’t give a shit. Is she still angry with me? I’m at a loss as to what to do. This can’t be the end, can it?

Roman sighs. “Fine. Show me the email you sent to her. Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

I hand him my phone and he reads it, his face impassive. I go over the words again in my head, recalling each and every one of them.

Dear Ginevra,

I know you’ve been angry with me and I hope a month apart has given you the time and space to gain a clearer perspective about us. I know I’ve gained clarity.

I’ve come to the realization that blackmailing you into marrying me was wrong. I whole-heartedly apologize. To right this wrong, I think we must dissolve our agreement, including our marriage. I’ll have the divorce papers drawn up immediately.

I hope you take this in the manner it is intended. That we should both be free to make our own decisions moving forward.

Sincerely,

Blake Baron

“Christ, Baron, what the fuck were you thinking? This makes it sound like you can’t wait to get a divorce.”

My head snaps up. “What? No, that’s not what it says at all. See this line here? I’m being a better man and releasing her from our contract. I’m absolving her of her crime.”

“Who the fuck signs off a personal email with sincerely ?”

“It’s courteous.”

“It’s impersonal.”

“I was trying to be succinct.”

“You managed that all right. This reads like a corporate email.” Roman curses. “And you’re shit at being a better man. What the fuck does that even mean?”

I glare at him. “You know. You made yourself better for Sophia. I’m trying to do the same thing for Gin. I’m setting her free, so she can choose me if she wants me, because…” I swallow hard. Why is it suddenly so hot in here? “I think I love her.”

For a long moment, Roman simply stares at me. It’s unnerving. I haven’t been this shit-faced since college. What does he see?

“You’re serious.” His tone softens, “You really fell in love with Ginevra Pontrelli.”

It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. “Hopelessly. Irrevocably. Devastatingly?—”

“Okay, I get it.” He waves the server over. “Put all of this on my tab.”

“Are we going somewhere?” I lean further against his shoulder, slipping sideways on my bar stool.

“Yes. Home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

He ignores my protest. “You’re going to sleep this off, then you’re going to go see Gin in person and talk to her to clear this up. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about relationships, it’s that communication is key. You suck at it right now, but you’ll get better. Now stand up.”

I slide down from my stool at the bar and my knees give out.

“Christ. You’re a fucking mess.” Roman takes my arm and peels me off the floor. The room spins, and I stumble as he supports most of my weight. “You owe me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? The way I see it, we’re finally even.”

A s soon as Roman opens his front door, we’re greeted by Sophia. “There you are. I was beginning to worry. It’s late.” She kisses Roman and my heart painfully twists. I want what they have—with Gin. With my beautiful, sweet magpie who’s the only person on this planet that I want to be around constantly. All of my being misses her.

“How was your day,” Roman asks his wife as he dumps me on the sofa.

“Great. Gin stopped by this afternoon and we chatted for hours.”

My head snaps up, and I immediately regret the sudden movement. “Gin was here?”

Sophia studies me, a slight frown creases her brow. “Yes. She came to tell me she’s moving to Italy.”

I glance at Roman. “See? She hates me.” My speech is so slurred I barely understand myself. “That’s why she’s moving to another country.”

“Or maybe she decided to move after reading that ridiculous email you sent.” Roman pours himself a scotch and downs it in one go.

“She bought the house before I sent that email.”

Roman and Sophia exchange a loaded glance, but I can’t figure out what it means. Do they think I’m doomed? Did I fuck up that badly? Shit, I did, didn’t I?