Untangle Me

Chapter 60

Giada

"I told you not to order it! Who even has the audacity to order a steak in a pizzeria?" I snap after the waiter has taken away our plates. Both were perfectly clean, of course, though mine was mostly so because Andrea kept reaching over the table to steal slices of my pizza.

My mouthwatering, warm, cheesy pizza with fresh mushrooms. It was so good I could cry.

Meanwhile, Andrea kept feeding me his fucking steak and fries so he could finish as well. It was fine too but no better than what you get in the US. He's a fool.

"Mine was fine," he insists for the twentieth time. Proud ol' man just can't admit he was wrong.

"So you have no regrets? Why did you eat half of my pizza then, huh?" I challenge him.

"I just knew you never could have finished it by yourself," Andrea retorts though he looks a little wary as soon as the words are off his lips.

"Did you just question my pizza-eating skills?" I ask.

"No!"

"Sounds like a challenge to me," I go on.

"Oddio, please," he mutters while I start smiling.

"I'll do my wallet a favor and not insist on doing it here but as soon as we are home, we're having a contest. You're going down," I declare confidently. And finally, Andrea matches my smile with one of his own.

And dang if it isn't still my favorite view. I would go so far and say it's even better than the white houses down the street in the sunset but it's a close one.

"Any dessert for you guys?" the waiter asks, interrupting yet another moment I wish could've lasted forever. If he didn't seem so adorably clueless, I would've sued him by now.

"I'll definitely take the tiramisu, thanks," I reply quickly.

"Just a limoncello for me," Andrea adds but I stop the waiter before he can zoom off.

"He doesn't mean that. Nope, he'll just eat my food again and I'm not here for it. The lava cake for him, please," I tell the young man. Then, turning to Andrea, "Like that we can share at least."

He simply smiles and nods to himself. We go on, have a nice flow of conversation and plan our day tomorrow a bit more. By the time I finally get a chance to excuse myself to the bathroom, I'm nearly peeing my pants.

What? I didn't want to kill the mood by leaving the table but I need to do this before dessert arrives. Lava cakes need to be eaten while they're warm, everyone knows that.

So I make sure to do my deed quickly but on my way back to the table, I stop short and stare out of the open doors of the restaurant. There, on the other side of the street I could have sworn I just saw-

And there it is again. Behind a group of passing people is the woman I saw from the balcony of our hotel room earlier today. The one that looks like my mother. She's speaking to an old man who's standing on the stairs to what I assume is his home. They look familiar and the scene is so achingly normal that my thoughts seem bizarre.

What am I thinking? This can't be my mother. People don't come back from the dead.

And yet, when the lady waves at the man and turns so I can see the side of her face, my heart freezes. It's her. It looks just like her.

With each step she takes down the road and further away from me, the panic in my chest blooms. So when she's about to round the corner I do the only reasonable thing. I follow her without another second of hesitation.

I need to see her more clearly. Even if I'm wrong. I need proof so I don't lose my mind.

My breaths are coming in fast rasps as I speed-walk after the lady. It's not the exercise though. Not only, at least. Nope, I'm actively panicking now because I'm snaking my way through fairly dark alleys in a foreign country, alone.

I wish Andrea was with me but there's no time to turn back. If I lose her trail now I might never see her again and I don't think I could live with myself if I did that.

I'm mental. Totally mental. Fuck, this is completely batshit but I can't get myself to stop. Even as the alleys become smaller and the light more scarce. Even when I can't see the woman but only follow the sound of her footsteps.

With a start, I realize she must think I'm a serial killer trying to murder her. Oh god, what if she's a serial killer? What if I'm hallucinating and walking right into my death.

This was a bad idea. Such a stupid and impulsive plan built on a foolish hope and some mindfuck. And probably the major lack of sleep.

I pat down my pants, walking absently as I look for my phone only to realize I don't have it on me. Fuck, I left it at the table. I can't call Andrea. I don't have google maps to guide me back to the restaurant. All the alleys look the same, how the hell am I supposed to find my way around?

I'm about to start hyperventilating when the sound of my name rips me out of it. I stop in my tracks, chills rushing over every inch of my skin as if I'd been dunked into cold water. Because I recognize that voice.

And it shouldn't be saying my name. Shouldn't say anything. Ever again.

It's a voice I heard last about nine months ago.

I raise my head slowly, my eyes wide as they meet ones the same color as mine. Then I look to his right to see the woman I've been chasing.

Both are staring at me.

Two ghosts.

And I know now that I've lost my mind.

Because I'm staring at my parents. Both of them.

And they should be dead.

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Hey Siri, play suspenseful music lmao

Hope y'all like this chapter and can't wait for the next one:)) see you tmrr

Have a good night<3