“The harm,” Nico snaps, “beyond the obvious, is that you and Violetta had a date tonight, Chris. She was waiting for you, and then she got pissed. I couldn’t tell her where you were because I didn’t know, and even if I did I probably wouldn’t have!” He glances at me now, his habitual frown on his fa

“Iris isn’t going anywhere,” Christian murmurs, sitting back on the couch and shaking his head, clearly thinking this through. “I want the Romano family out of this scott free – no blame touching us, even through a bartender. Marino’s enough on the edge right now that any bad blood with the Romano’s

“That’s not what Romano thinks,” I point out. “True,” Frankie says, turning his eyes to me. “But Romano thinks you’re fucking Christian.” “What!?” I breathe, because I! I did not know that! And then I realize that if Romano thinks that…then… “Oh, ew!” “Wait,” Nico murmurs, watching me closely.

Because what else could I take that to mean? If he was done with her – If he had really decided to…to admit to me that I’m the one he cares about... Wouldn’t he have just let the call go to voicemail, and…I don’t know, do literally anything besides answer it? I sigh, and slump onto my bed. B

And I wonder, passively, what he means by that. If, perhaps, he’s not talking about Violetta and our current reality at all. If what he’s saying goes far, far further back. Back to a boy, and a girl, sitting on a rooftop in the early summer. And him calling her Daisy. And her staring at him in the