Between Loyalty and You

Chapter 15 (Elena's POV)

On the morning of the twenty-sixth, I packed before breakfast.

Two nights.

That was what I had promised myself.

I folded my clothes, wrapped the photograph of my mother in a cardigan, and checked my train ticket. The car would arrive at one.

Everything was arranged.

Then I found Luca alone in the dining room.

His gaze moved to the coat over my arm.

“Leaving already?”

“After lunch. I’m trying to avoid packing in a hurry.”

He nodded.

I waited for him to say something else.

From the kitchen came the sound of Rosa’s replacement gathering the breakfast dishes. My father was upstairs, searching for glasses he had left beside the coffee pot.

Luca stepped closer.

“Walk with me.”

I glanced toward the stairs.

“Now?”

“Before you go.”

Frost edged the lawn.

We followed the path toward the lake, our shoes crunching over the gravel. Luca kept his hands in his pockets.

“When does the workshop reopen?”

“The fourth.”

“So you have another week.”

I looked at him.

“Papa has already made that argument.”

“I’m not asking for him.”

We stopped beneath the bare branches of the fig tree.

“Stay with me.”

For a moment, I heard nothing beyond the water moving against the shore.

“At your house?”

“Yes.”

“Luca.”

“Three days. Longer, if you want.”

I looked back toward the house.

He waited until I faced him again.

“Rosa and the household staff are away until after New Year. We’d have the house to ourselves.”

“And Papa?”

The pause was small.

It mattered.

“He would think you were in Florence.”

I folded my arms.

“So I leave here, wave goodbye, and go home with you.”

“Yes.”

I appreciated that he didn’t try to make it sound prettier.

That didn’t make agreeing simple.

“No one could know,” I said.

“I understand.”

“Not Rosa. Not Marco.”

“They won’t.”

“What about the men at the gate?”

“There’s a separate entrance to the garage. I can drive us in without going through the staffed gate. Security stays outside the house.”

I watched his face.

“You’ve thought about this.”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Since before breakfast.”

Something in his expression made me almost smile.

Then I remembered my suitcase.

The changed ticket I would need.

The goodbye I would give my father.

“I don’t want another week of wondering when you’ll decide you’ve made a mistake.”

“You won’t be there as someone I’m supposed to look after.”

“That didn’t stop you wanting me last time.”

“No,” he said quietly. “It didn’t.”

We stood with that.

Finally, I asked, “What happens when the staff come back?”

“You go home whenever you choose. We don’t have to decide anything beyond these few days.”

“But eventually we do.”

“Yes.”

“This doesn’t mean I’ve agreed to be your secret forever.”

“I know.”

I needed more than those words. We both knew it.

But I also wanted a morning beside him that didn’t end when someone opened the door.

I wanted to find out whether we could share an ordinary day.

“Three nights,” I said.

His shoulders eased.

“And I keep my own room.”

“Of course.”

“If you need to work, tell me. Don’t disappear.”

“I will.”

I looked down at the path.

“I’m still angry with you.”

“I hadn’t forgotten.”

“Good.”

He held out his hand.

I glanced toward the windows before taking it.

That small movement told me exactly what we were choosing.

We arranged it beside the lake in low voices.

My booked car would take me to the station as planned. Luca would leave first and meet me in the short-stay car park after the driver had gone.

I would keep my suitcase with me.

He would bring his own car.

No Marco.

No explanation to anyone.

Listening to the practical details made my decision feel more real than his invitation had.

“You can still say no,” he told me.

“I know.”

“I mean at the station, too.”

I looked at him.

“If you’ve changed your mind, take the train. I’ll understand.”

“Will you?”

“I won’t enjoy it.”

That earned him a small smile.

He brushed his thumb over my hand, then released it before we turned toward the house.

Papa tried once more over lunch.

“Stay until tomorrow. The roads will be quieter.”

“I’m taking a train.”

“The trains, then.”

I looked at my plate.

“I’ve made my arrangements.”

Luca sat opposite me.

He didn’t interfere.

Somehow, that made the lie feel entirely mine.

Papa sighed and asked whether I had enough food at the apartment.

“Yes.”

“Your heating?”

“Working.”

“Your landlord?”

“Still an idiot.”

He laughed.

I managed to join him.

When the conversation moved on, I caught Luca watching me.

There was no triumph in his expression.

I was grateful for that.

Luca left while I was upstairs getting my bag.

I heard him saying goodbye through the open bedroom door.

My father asked whether he would come back before New Year.

“Probably,” Luca said.

“We’ll have dinner.”

“I’ll call you.”

Then the front door closed.

I sat on the bed and opened my train booking.

For a moment, I did nothing.

I could still go home.

The knowledge steadied me.

I changed the ticket to the twenty-ninth.

Then I sent Marta a message.

My plans have shifted. I won’t be back today. Please don’t worry—I’m well. I’ll call you tomorrow.

Her reply arrived while I was fastening my suitcase.

All right. Enjoy your time off for once.

I put the phone away.

Papa walked me to the car.

He checked that my suitcase had been loaded, then kissed my forehead.

“Message when you arrive.”

“I will.”

His hand rested briefly against my cheek.

“It was good having you home.”

I hugged him.

For one terrible second, I considered telling him everything.

That I wasn’t going to Florence.

That the man he trusted most was waiting for me.

That I wanted to go badly enough to stand here lying to him.

Instead, I kissed his cheek.

“I’ll call tomorrow.”

He stayed on the steps until the car turned through the gates.

I watched him disappear through the rear window.

At the station, the driver carried my suitcase beneath the departures board.

“Would you like help to the platform?”

“No, thank you. I’m early.”

He wished me a pleasant journey.

I waited until he had gone before moving.

People hurried around me with shopping bags, children, half-finished coffees. A train announcement echoed overhead.

I stood beside my suitcase and checked my phone.

One message.

I’m here. Take your time.

I could picture him sitting in the car, waiting without knowing whether I would come.

I stayed where I was for another minute.

Then I walked toward the car park.

Luca stepped out when he saw me.

He took my suitcase without reaching for anything else.

“All right?”

“I feel awful.”

He went still.

“Do you want me to take you back?”

I shook my head.

“I hated lying to him.”

“So did I.”

“We’re doing it anyway.”

“Yes.”

There was no comfort in the answer.

Only the relief of not having to pretend.

He opened the passenger door.

I got in.

We drove for several minutes without speaking.

Once we had left the station behind, Luca glanced toward me.

“Would you rather go somewhere else?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. A hotel. Another town.”

I thought about it.

Strange rooms. More arrangements. The temptation to imagine we could leave the difficult parts of ourselves somewhere down the road.

“No. Your house.”

“All right.”

I watched the buildings give way to trees.

At a red light, I put my hand on the console between us.

He looked down.

Then he took it.

He released me when the light changed.

For the rest of the drive, my palm stayed warm.

He turned into a narrow lane before the main gates.

A second entrance opened onto a drive that curved behind the house. We passed the dark kitchen windows and stopped inside the garage.

The door closed behind us.

No one came to meet the car.

For a moment, we sat listening to the engine cool.

“We’re here,” Luca said.

“Yes.”

He looked at me.

I leaned across and kissed him.

He answered gently, one hand settling against my cheek.

When I drew back, I was smiling despite everything.

“Hello,” I whispered.

His forehead touched mine.

“Hello.”

Inside, the house was quiet enough to hear the refrigerator start in the kitchen.

Luca carried my suitcase to the garden room.

The bed was made. The wardrobe stood empty. Fresh towels waited on the chair.

He set down the bag and remained in the doorway.

“I’ll make coffee.”

“Luca.”

He turned.

“Don’t spend the next three days being so careful that you hardly come near me.”

A small smile changed his face.

“I’m trying to get this right.”

“Then come here.”

He did.

This kiss lasted longer.

I held his sweater and let myself feel the simple pleasure of having asked for him and being answered.

Then my phone sounded from inside my handbag.

Papa.

Home yet?

Luca saw my expression change.

I took out the phone.

For a long moment, I stared at the question.

Then I typed:

Arrived safely. I’ll call tomorrow. Love you.

I set the phone face down on the bedside table.

Luca hadn’t moved.

I reached for his hand again, and we went to make coffee in the empty house.