The way YOU saved ME

chase

3.

*Luisa*

I had Bella tied in a sling in front of my stomach so that I could carry her and hold Remo's hand at the same time.

Mig was walking next to us, he had taken the luggage from me and was now struggling a little with it, but wouldn't say anything. He had far too much pride for that.

I immediately looked for Pippo, who was walking a little further ahead holding his father's hand.

We were a large group of travelers.

Bez, Pecco, Maro, Celle, Franky, Mig, Tino, Matteo, Uccio, Vito, Becca, Enzo, the children and me.

Tino walked at the very back. Mainly because he was constantly being stopped by fans and asked for photos. He loved his fans, but some days it was just too much for him.

Normally I had never walked far away from him and had seen that he did somehow come along. Today I couldn't do the job.

I was so focused on getting the kids to the hotel before a reporter could stick a microphone in one of their faces that I was just trying to find the way to get us into a cab as quickly as possible.

Becca, my best friend, was walking next to me on the other side. She was pushing her suitcase next to her, looking at least as tense as I was.

But I couldn't take that into consideration at the moment either.

There were already reporters at the exit we were heading for. Enzo picked up Pippo and pushed his way through the crowd with him in his arms. Before I could act, however, a cluster of reporters and cameras had already formed around us.

The flashes of the cameras clicked as I held Remo's hand a little tighter.

"I want to get out of here," he sobbed agitatedly.

"I know, sweetheart," I replied, squeezing his hand.

Franky joined us and wordlessly lifted Remo into his arms before grabbing my hand with his free hand and pulling me along.

Just get out of here. Away and quickly to the hotel.

I could hear the reporters following us. Franky pulled me along a little faster.

The sensationalism had been beyond comprehension right after Eli's death.

They had been waiting for us outside the hospital after her death and at the graveyard after the funeral.

It was probably the price we all paid for Enzo's success, but I couldn't understand it. How could you take advantage of other people's grief?

I held Franky's hand as tightly as I could while I gently hugged Bella.

We literally fled outside through one of the doors.

"Here!" I recognized the voice immediately.

Franky just ran with me in that direction.

Alex Marquez was standing next to a cab and waved us over "Marc has driven up in another cab with Enzo and Pippo. They're already checking out the situation at the hotel. I should wait for you," he said a little tensely, while Franky simply pulled me into the cab with him.

The younger of the Marquez brothers got in after us and as soon as the doors were closed and we were driving, the reporters came out of the airport.

It felt like a chase.

My hands started to shake while Remo huddled on Franky's lap crying.

We didn't even have the child seats with us. They were still on one of the luggage trolleys, but at that moment I didn't care.

I just wanted to get the children to the hotel.

Franky pulled Remo firmly onto his lap and held him tight. His eyes were fixed on the back of the driver's seat with a mixture of shock and concern. He stroked Remo, presumably hoping to calm him down somehow.

My hands began to shake uncontrollably and before I could hold it back, I burst into tears. Bella, still in the sheet in front of my stomach, started crying too. And the more I tried to pull myself together, the more bitterly I cried before Alex pulled me to him.

I hadn't actually spoken to him or his brother since I had been called a "Rossi whore" by their father, while Marc had stood by and said nothing.

There had been a time when, through Enzo, I had had more to do with the Marquezes. Especially with Marc.

We had got on well and had wanted to see where it took us. Apart from a few kisses, however, nothing had happened between us, because apart from this truly bottomless insult from his father, there had simply been no spark between Marc and me.

But whether we were made for each other or not, the fact that he hadn't said a word to defend me in front of his father was something I couldn't forgive him for.

And so I had shunned his entire family.

Including Alex, who was now stroking my back reassuringly as I half buried my face on his shoulder. I was just so upset, so shocked by the fact that the reporters had actually run after us, that at that moment I didn't care who was hugging me.

I just needed a hug. A moment in which I could let myself go.

"Hey, everything's fine. You're safe here. And there's no one at the hotel either, Marc has just written. It's all good, Isa." His fingers slowly stroked up the back of my neck into my hair. "It's all good," he promised.

"And you're sure there's no one at the hotel?" Franky grumbled.

"Marc says no," Alex replied calmly, his fingers digging deeper and deeper into my hair.

When he reached my scalp, I sat up almost jerkily and slid more clearly back into the middle seat. I let my head tilt back and closed my eyes.

"Isa? When was the last time you ate? You are very pale." Franky's voice sounded unusually stern. But he had been the one who had been most aware of how I was really feeling over the last few months. He had always noticed straight away when I had a phase where I forgot to eat.

I just took a deep breath. Probably sometime before the flight or something. Maybe even longer before departure?

I had been so stressed that I had simply forgotten.

"Isa?" His voice became a little more stern.

"No idea," I replied without opening my eyes.

I could hear a zipper from Alex's side, then something crackled, "Here. Eat.".

"Thanks, but I don't have any..." I opened my eyes and sat up a little. Before I could finish my sentence, however, I felt such a nasty look from Franky's side that I had no choice but to take the wrapped sandwich now. "Thank you," I repeated.

"It's with tomato mozzarella. You liked that, didn't you?" Alex looked at me almost cautiously from the side.

I was somehow surprised that he had remembered that. We hadn't spoken for ages and it was such an unimportant detail that concerned me that I was really surprised he had remembered it.

"Yeah, I do," I nodded.

He smiled, "Eat. You look really pale.".

I just bit into the sandwich because I could physically feel how angry Franky was with me right now.

He had sat me down more than once and talked to me about how bad it was for my body if I didn't eat. I actually knew it myself, but sometimes I just forgot. Nevertheless, I had to swear to him that I was eating.

I knew he was disappointed now. Although disappointed was probably the wrong word. He was just worried. And I was really grateful for that, because he never lost sight of me.

Just like I had done for him when his father had taken his own life.

I had been there then. Now he was there.

And I didn't want to let him down. But I knew that I had just done it.