The Last Time You Chose Her novel · Chapter 10 of 24

Chapter 10: The Long One

Pietro's POV

Irene chose the restaurant, a hotel dining room in Newark with white tablecloths and a pianist.

She picked the table in the corner, with the banquette that put us side by side.

I let her.

I had let her do everything for nineteen days.

I couldn't stop thinking about the kitchen.

Her coffee going cold in her hand, and her voice saying "no heart" as if she were reading it off a stone.

I had written those words to save her.

I hadn't known how to tell her that before she walked out of the room.

"You're thinking about her," Irene said.

I looked up.

She was turning her wineglass by the stem, and her eyes were big and wet and kind.

"It's all right," she said. "I think about her all the time. We all do."

"Yes."

"Mamma hasn't slept. I sit up with her. Nobody else can." She laid her hand on my sleeve, the way she had at the dinner, and this time I did not move it. "I know I can't replace her. I'd never try."

"Of course not."

"I only want to look after you. You've been so alone."

I smiled at her.

My father had taught me how to smile at an enemy across a table, and it comes easily.

"That's kind," I said.

"Is there anything you want to know? About that day?" She said it softly, as if she were offering me a glass of water. "I haven't talked about it. But I'd tell you."

I picked up my fork.

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