Lorenzo: A Grumpy/ Sunshine, Dark mafia Romance (Chicago Ruthless Book 3)
Lorenzo: Chapter 33

ONE MONTH LATER

My fingers glide over the keys of the piano, playing the final notes of the song. It only took me a week to master, and now I can play it from memory. I guess Van Morrison isn’t as difficult to learn as Tchaikovsky—or maybe that damn melody is just permanently etched in my mind. Her sunshine song, she called it. She hummed it all the goddamn time, and after she left, I couldn’t get the fucking tune out of my brain. Who the fuck has a sunshine song anyway?

With a heavy heart, I close the lid. I should have learned this while Mia was still here and played it for her. I should have done a lot of things while she was here. Like never let her fucking leave.

I take my phone out of my pocket and, like I do every single day, check it, hoping for a message or a call from her. And just like every day that’s passed, there’s nothing. Of course there isn’t. She’s living her life and moving on without me.

She hasn’t met a guy yet. I know that because I keep tabs on her via her cell phone and the security guard who works near her job. I don’t know what I’ll do when she does. Probably have him taken out by a sniper so nobody knows who’s responsible. And then I won’t be forced to admit that the idea of Mia being with anyone else fills me with jealousy that burns me from the inside out.

I scroll through my contacts and bring up her number. My heart races in my chest at the thought of pressing that green circle on the screen and hearing her voice. As it turns out, I still have a heart after all. It seems Mia Stone put it back together so quietly and carefully that I didn’t even notice until I felt it break all over again.

I lock the screen and slip it back into my pocket. She made it clear when I saw her last that she didn’t want to hear from me. Not that I blame her. I went there to tell her how much I missed her and that I wanted her to return to Chicago, but once again I let my doubts—guilt over Anya and fear of fucking Mia’s life up more than I already have—stop me from saying any of that.

I need to delete her number. Need to stop checking up on her, other than to make sure she’s safe from her prick of an ex-husband. I need to let Mia Stone go. She was never mine to begin with.