Twenty Five

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The bar hummed with the familiar energy of a Friday night in the Village. The kind of place where you could lose yourself in the noise and chaos, where people were free to drown their thoughts in drinks and laughter. Laia and I had been using this place as our personal escape for weeks, ever since I'd started dodging both Ricci brothers.

I had kept myself busy—work, friends, and martinis. And it had worked, mostly. But now, after two weeks of radio silence from both Luca and Giancarlo, I felt like I was holding onto a secret so big that it was threatening to burst from me.

Laia was the perfect distraction, though. We'd been sitting here for hours, complaining about fashion, men, and everything in between. She was on her third drink, giving the bartender a silent nod as she double-fisted two new martinis while I tried to get through my second.

"Whoever permitted these bitches to start wearing Little House on the Prairie skirts again deserves the death penalty. No appeal," She hissed, narrowing her eyes at the group of girls floating down the sidewalk like a choreographed display of bohemian horror.

Laia nearly snorted her drink, then wiped her mouth, shaking her head at me. "You hate to see it until you remember this was you just a few short years ago."

"Please," she rasped, "for the love of all things holy, do not remind me of the days when I wore bralettes as shirts."

"No bra, miss double D," I shot back, watching as she visibly shuddered at the memory of her more daring days.

"Let's not reflect on poor mistakes. We learn, we grow," she declared, raising her empty glass. She caught the bartender's attention with a simple circle of her finger, her way of asking for more without needing to utter a word. Within two minutes, the bartender had returned, grinning as he placed two more drinks in front of us.

Laia graciously accepted them, proudly holding both glasses as she took alternating sips. "I think you have a drinking problem," I teased, unable to suppress a laugh as I watched her juggle the martinis.

"Thankfully, drinking has never had a problem with me," she deadpanned, her expression perfectly neutral.

I couldn't help but chuckle again, downing the rest of my drink in solidarity before ordering another. I hadn't planned on talking about it tonight—hadn't even planned on thinking about it—but with the drinks flowing and Laia in her usual no-judgment mode, I felt the weight of the past few weeks pressing down on me, urging me to finally let it out.

And before I knew it, I was doing just that.

"I need to tell you something," I blurted, surprising myself with the suddenness of my confession.

Laia's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't interrupt. She simply leaned back in her chair, giving me her full attention as I took a deep breath and started to talk.

I told her everything. From the moment Luca first walked into my office to the unexpected reunion with Giancarlo. How I had gotten tangled up in their world, caught between the two brothers who couldn't be more different. I told her about the intense moments, the tension, the longing, and the confusion that had consumed me for weeks. How I had ignored their texts, their calls, trying to give myself space to figure things out. And most of all, how conflicted I had felt about the entire situation.

At some point during my rambling, Laia's mouth had fallen open, and she hadn't closed it since. Her usual quick wit had been silenced as I spilled every last secret, divesting myself of the burden I had been carrying for too long.

When I finally stopped, drained from the effort of telling her everything, Laia blinked. "So... they both want you?"

Her voice was calm, but her eyes were wide with disbelief, as if she were trying to process what I had just unloaded on her. I could feel her gaze boring into me as I stared down at my drink, swirling the liquid around the edges of the glass in a desperate attempt to avoid answering.

My eyes drifted before I responded, "I guess so."

Laia let out a long, exaggerated breath, shaking her head slowly as she leaned back in her chair, staring at me like I had just revealed the plot of some scandalous soap opera. "Girl, you are in some deep shit."

"Tell me about it," I muttered, finally meeting her gaze.

She raised one eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk. "And you're telling me you don't want either of them?"

I paused, my thoughts swirling around the complicated truth of it all. "It's not that simple, Laia. I can't have one without the other constantly in the picture. I don't want to be in this never-ending push and pull. And... maybe I don't really want either."

Laia's smirk softened, her expression turning more serious. "You're sure?"

I nodded slowly. "I've been thinking about it a lot. There's something between both of them, something that draws me in, but it's not what I need. It's like... I can't get close to one without feeling like I'm betraying myself."

Laia studied me for a long moment, taking a slow sip of her drink before setting the glass down with a quiet clink. "You know, for what it's worth, I think you're making the right call. You've been through a lot with these two, and it sounds like you've got enough going on without their drama hanging over your head."

I sighed, grateful for her support. "I just don't know how to get out of it. They're both so... intense. It feels like no matter what I do, one of them is going to get hurt."

Laia gave me a sympathetic look. "Yeah, probably. But you've got to do what's best for you, Cat. And if that means stepping away from both of them, then that's what you need to do. They'll get over it."

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