Chapter Nineteen
Alexander
The familiar glow of Matteo’s restaurant appeared at the end of the street as evening settled over London.
For fourteen years the place had stood exactly where it was now.
Warm.
Loud.
Alive.
Everything Alexander’s house wasn’t.
He parked across the road and sat behind the wheel for a moment, staring through the windscreen.
The knot in his chest hadn’t eased.
The drive over had done nothing to settle his thoughts.
If anything, it had made them worse.
He could still see Evie’s face in the car park.
The way she’d snapped.
The way she’d apologised almost immediately afterwards.
The way she’d looked exhausted down to her bones.
His hand tightened around the steering wheel.
He shouldn’t care this much.
That was the problem.
Not Evie.
Not the poem.
