My Italian Doctor

Chapter Twenty Nine

I woke up later than usual the next day. All the travelling and then jumping straight back into work had exhausted me. I hadn't even had the chance to unpack my suitcase. I wasn't due to work until the afternoon shift and I took the opportunity to delve into my bag. Swinging it up onto the bed with a thud and unzipping it.

Thanks to Mamma, nearly everything in the bag was clean. I started hanging up outfit after outfit. Reminiscing on the ones I had bought in Verona or the ones I had worn for my dates with George. I hadn't expected it to feel quite so gut-wrenching going through my own things, but it was. I really had gotten to the point where I wished I had never met him. It would have been so much easier that way.

Even hating him would have been easier. The trouble was I didn't hate him. I was angry with him for lying to me, for making me the other woman, but I couldn't hate him. Instead, I was left with a mixture of pining and resentment. I still hadn't heard a word from Rylie since she left the vineyard that day and I resented her too. The two people I cared most about in the world had both left me feeling like s**t.

It was awful and I so badly wanted to put it all behind me. Ugly feelings like resentment weren't healthy and I knew they would continue to eat me up inside, but I had no idea how to dispatch them. How could I move on when all I had done was move backwards? Back to England, back to the job I hated and back to being alone.

The more I thought about Italy, the more I resented George. It felt like he had forced my hand, that it was only really him that prevented me from being there instead of staring out of my window and watching the rain fall. For the first time in my life, everything about England seemed to piss me off.

As if she knew it was the worst possible time to be interacting with me, my phone pinged with a message from Rylie. It had only taken her several days to even consider contacting me. She was very apologetic for not having messaged me sooner and for making me worry, but I was in too much of a mood to take pity on her. I only responded because she said she was worried about me.

Emily: I’m not talking to you. I’m perfectly safe and well. I wouldn’t want to make you worry because it’s not very nice, is it?

It wasn't even true because I was anything but safe and well. I was miserable, but despite being annoyed with her, I still didn't want to saddle her with worrying about me, especially when there was nothing she could do about it.

Rylie: Em, I said I was sorry. I didn’t think, but I was never in any danger.

Emily: Well, I didn’t know that, did I?

Rylie: Sorry.

I didn't reply, I didn't have the energy for an argument, but I also wasn't ready to let her off the hook either. I wanted her to understand she had hurt me. It wasn't even that I had been worried about her, it was that she hadn't even considered me before she left. I would have gone with her if she had asked. It was the fact that she didn't ask that hurt the most.

I pottered around the flat for the rest of the morning, doing boring jobs like dealing with three weeks' worth of dust. Continuously pining for all the things I couldn't have while working myself up more and more.

By the time I had to leave for work, I was seething. I dreaded having to walk through those double doors because I knew the first person to remotely annoy me was going to get every ounce of stress and pent-up emotions heading right for them without warning. I felt like I needed a warning sign to stop people from even considering approaching me.

I headed straight for the stockroom and started taking inventory. I needed to put orders in during my shift and it would be easier if I knew exactly what we had in there. Not to mention that it was a convenient excuse to avoid another living soul for the time being at least.

I managed to stay in the stockroom for most of the day and even made the orders from there just to avoid everyone. The only interaction I had all day was when Julian came in to speak with me.

"Any news on a sous chef?"

"No, but strictly speaking, it's not in my remit. Carlson should be dealing with it, but I will have a word with him when he's here tomorrow."

"He can't expect me to keep running the kitchen with nothing but a boy who knows next to nothing to help."

"I know Julian, I do. I will try and get it sorted."

"Sorry Em, I do know it isn't down to you. It's just really starting to take the piss now." I liked Julian, he was a good bloke. It was quite amusing that it wasn't so long ago that Luca was complaining about Julian's skills. I was really quite happy to deal with the issue but there was only so much I could do. I didn't have the authority to hire staff. The most I could do was organise the job advert and at a push organise the interviews.

When I finally walked out of the restaurant that night, I was relieved to be putting it behind me. It used to be the place I was happiest, but no longer. I knew I needed to find something more but I had no idea what it would be. I checked my phone and found a message from Rylie letting me know that they had arrived in Germany and were staying over for the night. I knew she was trying and I softened a little, but not enough to forgive her.

Under her message was a string of messages from George. I wanted to ignore him completely and not waste my energy reading the messages, but I couldn't stop myself. The problem was, as much as I didn't want to hear from him, I was also desperate to hear from him.

George: I've decided that you can't just cut me out of your life. It's not fair to either of us. So, I refuse to accept whatever dumping you think you did. What's between us is too special and magical to just leave in the past. I will be messaging you every single day until you forgive me and believe me.

His words were enough to shake my resolve. I wasn't sure I could keep him at a distance if he kept messaging me. I was already too conflicted even without him saying things like that.

George: The hospital has been busy. Amiee has gone to her mother's (because we're not together) and it has left me alone in the house. If you were here, I would be whisking you out on the town or something. Can you at least let me know you're alive? Miss you.

George: I feel like I am descending into stalker territory, but I can't seem to put my phone down. Please will you message me back and put me out of my misery?

Emily: I'm alive, but that's all you are getting out of me.

George: How are things over there? Have you gone back to work yet? I love you.

Emily: Things are fine. Yes, I'm back at work. Save those sorts of sentiments for your wife.

George: I would, but I stopped loving her years ago when she cheated on me. She's my wife in name only.

Emily: Given that you are highly religious, she is hardly your wife in name only. What is the plan exactly? Are you two just going to stay married forever? How many years have you been apart? Yet no divorce from either of you and she still cares enough to tell me. Your version of the truth just makes no sense, George.

George: You might be right, but it is the truth regardless.

I wished I had never responded to him. I should have continued ignoring his messages. It would have been so much safer. I considered blocking his number but I couldn't, I just wasn't ready to cut him off completely. Although it probably would have served me much better if I had.

I couldn't seem to get through a second of the day without thinking about him, it was torture. The memories of our time together played on a loop in my mind so vividly. The truth was that I didn't know how to put him behind me, I didn't know how to cut him off and I really had no idea how to stop loving him. What I did know was that I needed someone to help me work through it and I knew the exact woman for the job.