The One He Left Became The One He Couldn’t Have Chapter 13
“Is something wrong?”
Matteo’s voice broke through my thoughts.
I looked up.
My gaze crashed straight into his deep-set eyes.
The emotion churning inside me was unbearable.
I didn’t want to hide it.
But the distance still between us made the words impossible.
“No.”
I shook my head in the end.
Made a mental note that even if I had to get Mr. Valentino involved.
That brooch was coming back.
Once I’d made the decision, the tension in my shoulders eased.
“It’s nothing, really. Just a small thing with the Valentinos.”
I forced lightness into my voice and smiled at Matteo.
“I can handle it.”
Matteo didn’t press.
He just nodded. “Alright. But if something gets complicated, Gianna.”
“You can always come to me.”
“After all, you’re my fiancée now.”
He used my name the way Aunt Mariana did. So naturally.
It wasn’t the first time.
But my ears still flushed.
Especially when he said the word fiancée.
Heat spread all the way down the back of my neck.
I was engaged.
In two weeks, I’d be his wife.
A tangled ache and something like hope stirred together in my chest.
I didn’t dare meet his eyes.
Just stole a glance at him, nodded, and murmured a quiet yes.
Matteo didn’t say anything more.
The car pulled up to the Ricci house.
The door opened. He stepped out first.
Then turned back to help me.
I noticed the engagement ring on his finger.
He hadn’t taken it off once since he put it on.
Matteo helped me out of the car.
And once I was out, he didn’t let go.
Instead, his hand closed around mine, warm and natural.
At first, it felt unfamiliar.
But his palm was dry and steady.
His fingers wrapped around mine with easy strength.
And my heart settled, just like that.
Like this was exactly how it was supposed to be.
From a distance, Aunt Mariana saw us walking hand in hand.
Her smile bloomed with relief.
She didn’t even wait for us to reach her.
She rushed forward.
And folded me into a fierce hug. Tears streaming.
“Gianna. You look just like your mother did when she was young.”
My tears broke instantly.
She smelled so good.
The same scent as my mother, in the blurred edges of my memory.
Matteo stood to the side, shaking his head with a rueful look.
He handed us tissues.
“Mama Mariana, you and Gianna clinging to each other crying like this.”
“Anyone who didn’t know better would think my father and I have been tormenting you.”
Aunt Mariana had married Matteo’s father when she was thirty-eight.
She’d never had children of her own.
She treated these stepchildren like her own flesh and blood.
Matteo had always been respectful toward her.
I’d known all this.
Which was why I’d never understood.
Why Matteo agreed to this verbal marriage arrangement.
The whole thing had nothing to do with him.
But Aunt Mariana only told me not to worry.
Said I’d understand the reason in time.
I stopped asking.
Aunt Mariana laughed through her tears at his words. She wiped my face.
Then gripped my hand tightly. “Gianna. Come home with me.”
I looked instinctively at Matteo.
He was looking back at me.
Behind him, green trees shaded the view, lush and vivid.
When our eyes met, Matteo’s gaze warmed.
He reached his hand out to me.
“Gianna. Let’s go home.”