Chapter 2

MELISSA

I don't have many friends, but the few I acquired at the Prep School boarding school, in the interior of England, where Auntie sent me so that I could have a more complete education, their words not mine, call me daily since they learned of Aunt Solange's death. Yesterday the number of calls dramatically tripled when Cynthia found out I was leaving school. It was hurting me to be away too however it was what was best for my family under the current circumstances and honestly the girl always made a bigger scene than necessary but that was her and her penchant for drama talking. They held a videoconference to try to find a solution, however, there was no problem with that and I closed the matter.

Today marks a month since the funeral and my routine is reduced to having breakfast with Lorenzo, watching him leave for the restaurant and waiting for him to return, this is the worst part, because he always arrives when I'm already going to bed and it's frustrating as fuck! I feel it's purposeful, like my company is too much for him to bear.

“Good morning, Mel.”

“Good morning, Lorenzo.” I emphasize his name and he stops the coffee pot halfway through. I put the half-eaten toast and jam back on my plate and pretend to get up from my chair.

“ What did I do this time?” he asks, grabbing my arm to stop me from leaving the table.

"Why do you think you did something?" I inquire as I settle back into my seat and cut myself a slice of carrot cake.

“You called me Lorenzo.” Explains and I shrug, pretending not to understand his point.

“And your name.” He crosses his arms and turns his entire torso toward me in one motion.

"You only call me that when you're upset, what did I do?"

“Nothing.” I continue to eat as I feel his eyes burn into me.

“I have all the time in the world, Melissa.” My blood boils at your words.

“Since when?” I turn towards him and look at his surprised expression.

“What happened to you?” he asks, stunned by my reaction.

“What happened to me?” I repeat your question, my head hurts and I suddenly want to point out to you all the reasons for my irritation.

“You.” Summary.

His lips tighten and his eyes check every part of my face, seeking some clarification.

“I did nothing.” He defends himself when he realizes that I won't say anything more.

“That's right, as I said before, nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm the teenager here. I who should create situations. However, the one who is locking yourself in the office and ignoring people is you.”

He snorts.

I snort back.

“I didn't want to talk to anyone.” Defend yourself.

He looks exhausted. Well, there are two of us.

“Not with me?” I murmur hurt. Her arms cradle me and suddenly we're both standing entwined.

“I always want to talk to you.” Bring the tips of your fingers on my back making small circles. The hairs on my neck stand on end at her touch.

“You excluded me.” I mutter, sounding sappy and needy.

“It was not my intention.” Her breath blows the loose, wispy strands of my hair. Our embrace intensifies, I feel nostalgic and sensitive.

“I felt alone.” I'm sniffling against her chest, I didn't even notice that I started to cry.

“I'm here now. I will always be. Promise.”

I slide my arms around his neck and wrap them around his waist, pulling him closer to me. He lets out a weak laugh and ruffles a few strands of my hair.

"You really missed me, huh." Plays and pushes him away, elbowing his rib lightly.

"Wow! You're getting really strong.”

I shrug.

“You are going to work?” I ask. His eyes staring at me.

"Yes, but I'll be back soon." I'll even make you dinner. He blinks and stares at him in surprise.

“You never cooked again.” I comment excitedly and he smiles in the corner, making sure he won me over with his promise.

"Then it will be something special." Put on a nice outfit.

I feel like jumping up and down with such joy, but I stop myself and give him another tight hug.

"Don't you miss cooking?" I question, going back to my breakfast.

Hunger had returned.

“I've had my time as a cook, but I like the way things have gone. I have my restaurant branches and I can manage everything from my office, along with my new ventures. "I wonder if you still got the hang of it?" His face looks at me in an offended way.

“Wait until tonight, little girl. Wait and see.” He says convinced.

“Just don't kill me. I blink in his direction and he seems to consider the suggestion.

"You've been very forward, little girl." You will smear yourself with my food.

"It's better not to have too many expectations, Uncle."

He stares at me in a different way.

“Very sassy.” He smiles again and lets out a wink.

“ I'll dismiss Olga, I'll bring you news today. See you later, Mel.”

"See you later, Uncle Enzo."

I close the breakfastand body to the bedroom, I remove the largest amount of clothes from my closet and try to choose some. I smile as I look at the gray dress, a gift from him to match my eyes, blue that sometimes could be mistaken for silver.

I fidgeted on the sofa, already impatient for its delay, I had been tidy and anxious for a good twenty minutes. My phone beeps and I check his message, it's coming. I take one last look in the living room mirror and am satisfied with the result.

A noise outside catches my attention and I run back to the couch, not wanting to get too excited.

“Hey Princess.” he says smiling.

He looks happy. I like that.

“Hey Lorenzo.” He looks at me with annoyance. I raise my hands up in surrender. “I'm not angry.” I say.

“Well, I'll prepare our dinner.” He walks into the kitchen without excitement. He leaves his briefcase on the counter and walks over to wash both hands in the sink.

I watch your every move. I take a seat at the bench, I feel like I'm in a VIP box. Totally exclusive.

“You are hungry?” he asks, checking me over his shoulder.

I nod, yearning for more words.

“Hungry, to be honest.”

“Excellent.” It says.

Parsley, peppers, tomatoes, onions and various other ingredients are placed on a small table. I don't know the dish that will be made, nor can I guess because I'm a complete ignoramus in the subject of cooking. I just appreciate the agility of your hands as you chop each ingredient.

"That smell is making me salivate." Her shoulders move up and I hear a low chuckle.

“Almost done,” he says.