Amapola Part 3
“You’re trying to convince me or yourself that you’ve forgotten him, dear? Because I see every day how present he still is here,” he said, touching my forehead, “and especially here.” He placed his hand over my heart.
“Marco’s here.” I heard the sound of a honking horn and kissed his cheek, grateful for being saved from this conversation.
“I need to go.”
“Don’t think you can escape me,” he warned, and I walked past him, smiling.
“I’m not thinking that, papà, and I wouldn’t be able to anyway, would I?” I asked as I reached the door.
The cool breeze hit my face, causing my dress to flutter. I descended the stairs until I approached Marco’s car. He looked stunning—or rather, he was a very handsome and charming man. It was a shame I wasn’t ready to open up to a relationship again because I was sure he would be the ideal man.
“You look beautiful, Amapola,” he said, admiring me. I could see the devotion in his eyes, and I knew he was interested in me; he had made that clear more than once.
“Thank you, you’re not looking bad yourself,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood that lingered after he had kissed my cheek and taken too long inhaling my perfume.
“I had to look worthy of the woman accompanying me,” he replied, smiling, our faces nearly touching.
“Shall we? We can’t be late; after all, we’re the hosts.” I took a step back, attempting to keep the conversation in a safe zone. For a moment, I thought he might kiss me.
“I don’t think anyone would mind if we were five minutes late.”
“I would mind.” I smiled and opened the car door. “We’ll have time to talk later.”
“I’ll hold you to that conversation,” he said, gesturing in mock reverence and finishing the task of opening the door for me to get in. He even extended his hand to help me inside.
I took a deep breath to control my thoughts. Maybe it would be good to try, but on the other hand, I didn’t know if I could. Just before he started the car, I saw one of the curtains in the window close; papà was watching us. In a way, it was good for him to understand that I needed to move on.
And perhaps Marco was the ideal way to do that.
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