Turning Point||Book 2

23: Romano.

"Take care," one of the nurses said softly, her eyes conveying understanding beyond words.

Xenia, who seemed familiar with the lady, nodded in acknowledgment. "And you too," she said tenderly.

As we left Golden Vale, where I had visited Joanna, I found myself beside Xenia. While I lacked medical expertise, Joanna's unresponsive state suggested little hope for her recovery. However, conveying this to Xenia would lack sensitivity.

In my world, someone in such a state would have little hope and would be spared further suffering, but I empathized with Xenia's predicament and refrained from judgment. Still, I sought to offer support in my own capacity.

After Max and the others counted Angelo's money, it had totaled ninety thousand euros. Knowing that the facility's cost for Joanna's care was around five thousand euros a month, this money would cover expenses for nearly eighteen months. This timeframe would allow Xenia to assess Joanna's condition and decide whether to continue her care even if recovery seemed unlikely.

I couldn't shake the image of Joanna's helpless state from my mind, especially the moment when she seemed so lost. She was thinner now, a former glory of herself, a far cry from her twin, but I was reminded of our last encounters, when she masqueraded as Xenia to safeguard her sister, and when she smoked nonstop in my car.

Joanna wasn't inherently bad, but life wasn't always black and white.

The chill of the morning air seemed to seep into my bones, matching the coldness that had settled in my heart as we walked out into the street.

The sterile smell of the hospital still clung to me, it still made the whole thing nostalgic in some type of way. Regardless of the urge to discuss the experience with Xenia, I refrained, fearing it might reopen the floodgates of tears she had managed to keep at bay.

Holding her reassuringly was out of the equation, as I'd come to dread what that now did to me. Initially, her warmth and our closeness would envelop me, but soon, the specter of Angelo would intrude, extinguishing any desire. It had become an exhausting cycle, and I had resigned myself to its uselessness.

Three days had slipped by since that horribly overwrought moment between Xenia and me, but the memories of her attempt were still as fresh as a recently inflicted wound. I could picture it, you know, the coldness inside her eyes when she realized that I was more bored stiff than enthusiastic about her oral pleasure.

I wished I could retract my reaction, but the lingering tension between us had become so thick that distinguishing between her frustration and my irritation was impossible.

The morning air started swirling around us again like a ghostly whisper. The sky above was a canvas of muted gray.

"Looks like it's going to pour," Xenia commented, pulling her small coat tighter around herself to ward off the cold.

I glanced at her, taking in the weary lines of her face, the tension in her shoulders. Of course the rift between us seemed wider than ever, seemed ready to explode.

Golden Vale faded into the background as we made our way to the car, the sound of our footsteps the loudest noise in the empty street. It was a very stiff morning.

I opened the door for Xenia, silently offering her a small gesture of kindness because I knew she needed it. While I couldn't stand the reminder of her former actions, she personally didn't unnerve me.

Just as I rounded the car, my phone buzzed in my pocket, displaying Katie's name when I pulled it out. Whether it was Xenia's presence or the fact that Katie would only dial me unless it couldn't wait, my heart skipped a beat.