FIFTY-ONE |

the room I buried my face in a pillow and took a deep breath. So much had happened in the last twenty four hours, too much for me to process. Not to mention the fact that my mind still felt groggy from whatever drugs the man at the bar had spiked my drink with. I wasn't ready to deal with any of this, I just wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep.

Back in the real world, somebody cleared their throat trying to get my attention. Slowly I removed the pillow from my head and met Arturo's gaze. He was holding a tan duffel bag which he set down on a chair.

"I got Marco to bring you some clothes from home and some toiletries," he explained.

"Thank you."

Arturo nodded, he looked so out of place in the small hospital room. "Your favourite trainers are in there too, I know your feet are probably sore after wearing heels."

"Thanks," I repeated.

The silence that followed was awkward, clearly neither of us knew what to say or do. Which was unusual for Arturo, he rarely faltered in any situation. Now he seemed at a loss.

"They're going to discharge you tomorrow morning."

"Oh." I fiddled with the bedsheets for something to do.

"They would have let you go tonight but I thought you'd want some time to decide where you want to go. I asked them to delay."

I nodded, still not meeting Arturo's gaze.

"I'm sorry that I put you through this," he said after a while. "I didn't intend for things to work out like this."

"It wasn't your fault. Not really."

"Of course it was."

I didn't have the energy to argue any more so I simply let it go. Arturo was stood with his hands in his pockets, tie unfastened and hanging loosely around his neck. His hair was messed up, it was probably the most dishevelled I had ever seen him. Most of all, he looked tired.

"Are you going to sit down?" I wondered.

He seemed surprised by my question but quickly moved the duffel bag off the chair, taking a seat. "I didn't know if you'd want me to stay."

"There are things we need to talk about."

"Yes."

My concentration was directed at my hands, I kept wringing them in my lap and twisting the sheets around them. I knew that Arturo and I needed to talk but that was as far as my brain had got. I still didn't know what to think or feel; I wished there was someone to tell me.

Arturo let out a deep breath. From the corner of my eye, I could see the hands on his expensive wristwatch ticking.

"Can you just tell me what to do so this can all be over?" I sighed, wishing I could bury my head under a pillow again.

"Florence I'm not going to tell you what to think. If you want to leave me after this, it's your decision. I'll even help you, get you a house anywhere you want, enough money to set you up."

I stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the lump in my throat. "You...want that?"

"Of course not."

"Then why would you say it?" I hated that I couldn't hide the hurt in my voice.

"Damn it," Arturo sighed.

"What?"

"My whole life is about ordering people to do things, forcing them into things they might not want or agree with."

"You've never had a problem with it before!"

"I was wrong. With you."

I shook my head, wagging my finger in Arturo's direction. I probably looked like a mad woman. "Now is not the time to change who you are!" I yelled. "Just tell me what to do already!"

"No."

"What do you mean no!" Arturo tried to reach over to calm me down but I shoved at his chest. "Tell me what to do! Tell me!"

As tears threatened to spill down my cheeks, Arturo cupped them in his hands while I thrashed under his hold. "Florence," he hissed as I continued fighting, "Florence."

"What!" I cried.

"Breathe. Take a deep breath and think."

Gradually my chest stopped heaving and I caught my breath. "Think what?" I hiccuped.

"In a logical way, preferably."

Satisfied that I was going to behave myself, Arturo released me and sat back in the chair. "Tell me what you're feeling," he suggested.

"I'm feeling...angry."

"You should be."

"And confused."

"Tell me why."

I chewed on my lip, thinking of how best to explain. "I don't understand why you didn't just tell me about your history with Cece when I first asked. I don't understand why you didn't tell me about what happened with Leila, if nothing happened why couldn't you just say? You never tell me about what goes on in your life when I'm not there. It's like...it's like you live two separate lives, one I'm not a part of."

Arturo nodded. "That is...fair."

"But why?"

"If I told you then you might not have helped me save Cecelia. I couldn't have done it without you."

I wanted to argue that he shouldn't have assumed how I would act but a part of me deep down knew that he was right. I couldn't imagine jumping at the opportunity to save my boyfriend's ex-fiancée, no matter how long ago their history may have been.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "And Leila?"

Arturo rubbed the stubble along his jaw, he seemed exhausted. "I honestly never thought about her. She was an inconvenience, it didn't seem like the sort of thing you'd be interested in knowing." When I raised my eyebrows, he amended, "Obviously I was wrong."

"Obviously."

"So where do we go from here?"

It was a valid question, one that I still didn't have an answer to. I chewed on my lip, lost in thought. "Last time you lied to me I told you I wouldn't give you another chance."

"I remember."

"What does that say about me, if I forgive you again? Or if I don't, even though I love you?"

Arturo picked up one of the get well soon cards off my bedside table. He flicked it open and glanced at the writing inside before putting it down. "I can't tell you what to do," he said. "But whatever decision you make doesn't change who you are or how people see you. People love you, Florence. I love you. And I'm sorry that I hurt you."

I nodded silently, moving my eyes from the ceiling to my lap. I could feel the threat of tears building in my throat, a dull ache.

"When you leave tomorrow, you can go anywhere," Arturo said after a long silence.

"What do you mean?" I frowned.

"If you choose to leave me, like I promised, I'll let you go. Tell Marco where and he'll take you."

"So you think I should run away from this."

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it." I narrowed my eyes.

"It is the last thing I want on this earth," Arturo sighed. When he next spoke he sounded defeated. "But for once what I want doesn't matter."

"You'd really let me go?"

"Cross my heart." He drew a line over his chest for emphasis, a sad smile on his face.

"I...uh...need some time to think."

"Of course."

Arturo gave me one last glance before walking over to the door. I spoke before it closed behind him. "What about Cecelia?"

"She is gone."

And so was he. Just like that, the door closed and I was alone.

**

That night, I didn't sleep at all. I tossed and turned in bed, replaying my conversation with Arturo as if the thousandth time I heard it I would somehow know what to do. No answer came, and as the hours passed by, I only became more confused.

Arturo and I had been in this situation so many times before. One of us messed up, did something wrong, hurt the other. We'd always forgiven each other in the end, but at what point did it stop? Would we go on like this forever, hurting each other? And what was the alternative, a life of what ifs?

By the time dawn came creeping through the shuttered window pane, I felt about ready to scream. Golden-orange light fell in slats on the floor, stretching across the room as time dragged on. They reached the table at the end of my bed, illuminating the gifts and cards there. A vase of red tulips hugged the warmth against them, their petals open like hungry mouths. They were the exact colour of Arturo's family crest, the same as all the dresses he had put me in when we first met.

Beside the flowers, cards with well-wishing sentiments stood to attention, bars of chocolates and sweets accompanying them. I was surprised people had made such a big effort, it wasn't like I'd made it through some dangerous operation. I didn't even need to be in hospital anymore, I was only here so I could decide what the hell I was going to do with my life. But it was still kind of touching to see that people cared.

I picked up each card in turn, reading them quietly to myself. There was one from Amber, Sofia, Marco...even Dina had sent one. These people were like my family, I realised. The choice to leave Arturo meant leaving them behind, too. It would essentially be like starting over.

As I put the final card back, I saw the time on the clock across the room. It was almost six in the morning, soon enough a nurse would be coming in to discharge me. I picked up the duffel bag that Arturo had brought and put it down on the bed, unzipping it with a yawn.

On top of a neatly folded set of clothes was a small note and a chocolate bar, my favourite brand. My stomach growled at the sight and I ripped the wrapper open, shoving the delicious chocolatey goodness into my mouth. I'd barely eaten anything in the last twenty four hours, I couldn't stand the taste of hospital food.

Once my sweet tooth had been satisfied, I opened the note, feeling nerves twist inside my chest. I recognised the cursive writing instantly, I had seen it so many times before.

I know I hurt you, and a note will never undo that damage. Whether or not you come back to me, know that my love and protection will be with you always, no matter where you are.

Arturo.

I closed my eyes and tipped my head back, breathing deeply. He would be with me forever, he was right, no matter where I went he'd always be there. Not in person maybe, but he'd never be far away. In my mind. He could be anywhere in the world but I knew he'd always be watching over me.

Knocking me from my thoughts, the door into my hospital room opened and Marco came in. He was holding two cups of coffee and a set of car keys. When he saw me, he smiled.

"Morning, fiore." He handed me one of the coffees and took a seat. "Excited to be getting out of here?"

(Flower)

"Hardly," I said, taking a sip of the bitter liquid. "I still haven't decided what to do."

Marco leaned back in the chair, he looked like he was settling in for the long run. His eyes half closed and he shrugged. "The decision is all yours. Of course, if you were to leave us, you would be missed."

"I'd miss you too." Already I could feel the ache in my chest.

We lapsed into silence for several minutes, I almost thought Marco had fallen asleep. Then all of a sudden, his eyes opened and he dug his hand into his pocket. "You know how I always make tough decisions?"

"How?"

"I flip a coin." He pulled a euro out of his pocket and held it up to the light.

"You mean I should decide the rest of my life based on chance?" It didn't sound like a smart idea.

Marco placed the coin in my hand and closed my fingers around it. "That's the beauty of it. If you're disappointed by the decision, you know it's the wrong one."

"That actually...makes sense," I said, surprised.

"I do have one or two good ideas now and then. But Florence?"

I looked up from the coin, Marco's voice had just got serious. "Yeah?"

"Whatever the outcome of this, you have to mean it. All in or all out, for good."

"I know." I took a deep breath and span the coin between my fingers. "Heads, I stay with Arturo and we go back to New York. Tails, I go back to England and Amber comes with me."

I threw the coin up into the air, we both watched it spin around and around. It came down and I caught it on my palm, flipping it over onto the back of my opposite hand. "Ready?"

Marco nodded. "I could get plane tickets within a couple of hours if needed, obviously you and Amber would need time to pack, and you couldn't leave without saying goodbye to Arturo."

Holding my breath, I uncovered the coin.

There was a beat of silence.

"Tails."