I need my fucking phone to charge before I go anywhere.
Dad gives me a look of warning. “Don’t make me come get you.”
I let out a chuckle and watch as he walks back up the path.
Patting Luna’s head, I say, “Come, girl.” She follows me up the stairs but goes to Rosalie’s bedroom.
When I glance inside, my heart constricts painfully.
Jesus, I can still smell her scent.
I walk into the bedroom, and sitting down on the bed, I slump back and stare up at the ceiling.
Luna comes to lie next to me and lets out a whining sound.
“I miss her too,” I whisper, rubbing a hand over the aching space in my chest where my heart is.
Come back to me, Rosalie.
Chapter 21
Rosalie
Arriving at the Parisi mansion, I pay the cab driver and climb out.
Staring at the house and beautiful gardens where I spent a lot of time growing up, a smile curves my mouth.
God, I haven’t been here in ages. It still looks the same, though.
The mansion was built in a Mediterranean style. Trellises with vines cover the walls, reminding me of Romeo and Juliet.
Alissa and I used to climb down the trellises and pretend we were on a secret mission as we sneaked through the vast gardens, trying to see how far we could get before a guard spotted us.
Seeing something from my past that hasn’t changed is comforting.
I walk through the massive iron gates and smile at the guard. “I’m here for Alissa’s party.”
“Name,” he grumbles, eyeing me up and down.
“Rosalie Manno.”
His eyes narrow on me, then he nods to a golf cart. “Alessandro! Take the girl up to the mansion.”
“Thank you.”
I climb onto the golf cart and smile at Alessandro, but he doesn’t bother acknowledging me.
I glance at the flower beds and trimmed hedges as we drive to the front door. Mr. Parisi steps out onto the porch and watches as we come to a stop at the foot of the steps.
A wide smile spreads over my face as I climb off. “Hi, Mr. Parisi.”
His eyes sweep over me. “Rosalie. I was surprised when I heard you’re back in New York.”
I take the steps up. “I only got back last week.”
We lean in and kiss each other’s cheeks, then Mr. Parisi says, “Follow me.”
“Everything still looks the same,” I mention as we walk into the house.