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Chapter Thirty-Three

"I can't believe it," Veronica whispers, handing Hugh the rather large wine glass. I stare at the ceiling, completely dazed, unable to form a coherent thought.

"I know. You're back on the market after leaving your musician boyfriend. You turned down the sexy Maestro. Girl, you have more excitement in a day than I've had my whole thirty-three years of being alive," Hugh states, blowing out a breath. I nod, wishing they'd leave.

Veronica insisted on coming after I called. However, it's been hours and they're still here. I think they are trying to provide support and just don't know how to say goodbye.

"Want some wine?" Hugh asks and I shake my head, silently. I can't even look at alcohol. There's a knock on the door and I sit up, freezing in place. Veronica's and Hugh's eyes bulge from their sockets. I look around the apartment and stand, gaping, unsure of what to do. I pull down on Matteo's oversized t-shirt that I took from his house and couldn't return.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," Matteo says, gently. I close my eyes, pointing at both of them.

"I'll be right there."

"If this is a bad time, I can-"

"No, no," I grab the door and open it, quickly as Hugh and Veronica clean up their mess. He's dressed in a long-sleeved cream colored sweater and jeans, dark ones. I place my hand on the door awkwardly, chuckling as he observes my attire.

"Liked that one, did you?"

I smile, nervously. "I was going to return it."

"You don't have to," he replies, removing his hands from his pockets. He looks inside my apartment at the noise. I turn, finding both of my friends staring between us, curiously.

"They were just leaving," I say, sternly and Veronica rolls her eyes, grabbing Hugh.

"Fine." She stalks forward. "Hi and bye, Matteo."

"Bye," he whispers, uncomfortably. I gesture him inside, taking a deep breath.

"Can I get you water or-?"

"No, thank you," he replies, shutting the door. "I didn't even know if you still lived here. I was hoping."

"I won't be for long. I've begun packing the bedroom."

"You're moving?" he asks.

"Only uptown but yeah. I move at the end of this month."

"Uptown?"

"Park Avenue," I reply with a sly smile and his brows go up.

"That new job must be something."

"It is. It's so much better than what I was doing... I guess I have you to thank for that."

"I don't think I'm to take credit for that," he argues gently, glancing around. I notice his eyes are extremely red, bloodshot.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," he says, nodding. "Like shit but better."

I take a seat on the couch, pulling down on the shirt over my thighs. "I know... I know we probably need to talk-"

"You were right," he states, cutting me off. I blink, gaping unsurely. He sits down beside me, taking my hand. "About us, about what we do to each other. About taking you for granted. I know I did... and do still."

I stare at him as he breathes in, nervously. "I'm going to London, Emma."

My heart falls into a deep corner of my stomach. "London? For the shows?"