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Chapter Twenty-Five

I stand in Matteo's dark apartment, glancing around the space. It's been hours now, he hasn't been here. He hasn't shown up. I run my hands through my knotted hair, shaking my head. The sun is beginning to rise.

Has he hurt himself?

Stepped in front of a car?

I feel the emotions within me bubbling up and I press my hand to my trembling lips. I can't lose him. I can't let him go through this alone. There has to be a way to get through to him.

This can't be over.

I can't be without him anymore.

I don't care that he doesn't want me here. I don't care if he screams at me. He needs to know I'm here. That I'm willing to fight for us, even if he isn't.

                                                * * * *

My eyes flicker to the door as it opens, well past eight AM.

I press my index finger to my lips, holding it there as Matteo shuts the door, throwing his keys onto the table. He stops in his tracks, turning, finding me on the couch, my knees to my chin. I stare into his eyes, calm. His eyes are swollen and a sickly kind of color.

"I'm not going to let you push me away," I utter low as he sticks his hands into his pockets.

He breathes in, deeply and I catch his eyes flicker upward, to try and conceal the emotions he seems to be no longer able to hide. "What you are doing, Emma, is... I appreciate your persistence to want to help me but I don't want it."

"But I know you don't mean that."

"Actually, I do," he replies, frustratingly. "I really do. I'm going to go back to my work, back to what I know, back to what I can handle." He looks at me then, resignedly. "And I want you to try and forget you ever knew me. I want you to find someone else, someone that can give you the security and affection you deserve."

I stand up, dazedly. This is actually happening. He's breaking up with me.

"Forget I ever knew you? Honestly, what kind of bullshit is that? You made me fall in love with you in just a matter of fucking weeks. I've never felt anything remotely as good as this and now, you're just throwing me away? Writing me off without so much as a little fight? Do I mean that little to you?"

He shakes his head to himself, silently, looking down, unable to meet my fiery gaze.

"You're a coward," I breathe, grabbing my coat and purse off the couch. I don't bother taking the time to put it on. I walk to the door and pull it open, knowing he's not going to talk to me. Not now at least.

                                             * * * *

I don't even last a day. I cave, having not heard from him. Needing to hear his voice. I call his number, waiting. It goes straight to voicemail after one ring. He denied my call. He denied... I drop my face into my hands, feeling physically sick.

                                           * * * *

"You need to move," Veronica says, running her hand through my greasy hair. "Em, you've been like this for days."

"And I'm content here," I utter, hugging my couch pillow tighter. My clothing and laptop I had at Matteo's house that Harold dropped off two hours ago are sitting in a brown box beside the couch. There was no note.

"I'm sure you are but your life is quickly falling to shit and I have a solution."

"You have nothing-"