Gabby
I stood near the lemon trees, watching the shadows stretch across the courtyard. Rob was laughing with his brother and mine, easy and open, like he belonged in every room he entered. I liked that about him. I liked a lot of things about him.
And that scared me.
Italy was my home. My roots. My rhythm. Missouri was a place I couldn’t picture, except through the stories GreenLee told and the way Rob said “y’all” like it was a love language.
I didn’t hear him approach until he was beside me.
“Hey,” he said, voice low. “You’ve been quiet.”
I nodded. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous habit.”
I smiled, but it didn’t reach my chest.
He leaned against the tree beside me, arms crossed. “Can I ask you something?”
I nodded again.
“What’s going on between us?”
I swallowed. “I don’t know.”
