THIRTY-FIVE.

I stand from the table and I follow him.

“Alessandro, Alessandro, wait.”

He comes to an abrupt halt, but he doesn't bother to turn around and face me or utter a single word.

I stop a few feet behind him. “I’m sorry,” I apologise quietly. “It was insensitive of me, and I’ll admit when I’m in the wrong.”

His shoulders rise and fall with every breath he takes, and I can sense his anguish slowly spiralling out of control.

He snarls, running his hand through his freshly showered hair.

“It’s fine.” He tilts his head upwards, blowing air out of his nose.

I reach out and place my hand on his shoulder, gingerly. “I truly am sorry. It's… When Savannah indicated that she wanted to cook lasagna for you, I was sceptical until she mentioned Rose, who used to make it for you regularly. Although I was a child at the time, I do recall being in the car with Mum when she dropped Rose off at your old villa. I followed Rose to the same villa when our father threw her out onto the street.” My voice qu