touch, it almost feels good. Then the fucker hugs me.
I’m not into hugging, so I close my eyes and try to will it to be over quickly. I feel grateful when he pulls away.
“Let’s have some donuts,” he says, opening the bag. “You’re not eating donuts yet.”
“I’m not even hungry.”
“You know we got that shit settled last night once and for all—with Aren’s old crew. I ran into some of them out at the pool hall. We did some coke—I was buying—and that young one said they’re getting out of half the stuff that Aren had his nose in. They don’t want more trouble with us.”
I nod.
“You know how I know you’re not good?” He laughs. “You didn’t even ask, just now. You didn’t ask what it is they’re getting out of. You don’t even give a shit. You know that’s weird, right?”
“Don’t tell me what’s weird, Alesso. I don’t think you want that going both ways.” I feel a swell of irritation rising up beyond the ice block in my chest.
“You know how I found out about the baby? Your baby? Jace told Max that she resigned.”
“What?”
He nods. “She said she’s having complications with her pregnancy, but she’s not. Max told me she’s packing up to move to Italy. Guess you’ll never see them now.”
I stand up. “Enough.” I point to the door. Alesso blinks. “Get out.” He frowns then starts to open his mouth. “I’m not fucking kidding, Aless. Come back later, but right now, you need to get the fuck out.” When he doesn’t stand, I pluck up the bag of donuts. “Take these with you. And go.”
He gives me a look like he’s surprised, and I feel a barb of guilt.
“You can keep them.” He hands the bag to me as he goes. I watch him walk out to his car with his head down. I watch him pull out of my driveway. Then I throw on some clothes, grab my keys, and go.
Epilogue
Elise
My rented car is different than I thought it would be—toy-sized and bright blue—but at least the steering wheel is situated on the normal side, so it’s not hard to drive. Even so, by the time I park it in the grass in front of my new, seaside cottage. I guess that’s what I get for moving abroad when I’m within weeks of giving birth.
I park the car near the stone porch and glance at my bags in the backseat. I didn’t bring much. I’ll do all my shopping for the baby now that I’m here. It’s a little radical, I know, but my cousin who lives half an hour away is a doctor—an obstetrician. So it’s workable, if weird.
I get out slowly, still jet-lagged and feeling kind of like I’m living in a dream. The grass around the house whips in a breeze that’s blowing in over slate gray ocean waves. The sun is setting, so the sky is bright pink. It looks like a dream, that’s for sure. It’s beautiful enough to make my throat knot up.
It’s beautiful, but no one’s here to see it with me.
You are not crying about that right now.
I used to think I was a crier, but lately I’ve been doing better. It’s been weeks since I heard from Luca. One day, he just stopped texting. I kept waiting for him to get back in touch, but when he didn’t…how could I be surprised? As devastating as it’s been, I’m really not. I know him so well. I can picture every single thing his saboteur brain is throwing at him.
When I went to his house to tell him I was moving here, I couldn’t find him. No one I asked knew where he was. So I flew out last night without the closure I had wanted. No tears. Naturally, I get here and see the sunset, and this is when I want to break down.
I breathe deeply as I walk slowly to the front door: a thick, heavy-looking slab of dark wood that’s curved at the top. I check the instructions in my pocket and lift a terracotta flower pot by the braided doormat, beneath which I find a key. I slide it into the keyhole, turn slightly, and push the door slowly open.
As the home’s living room is revealed—pale and airy, just the way it looked in the pictures—I force a smile onto my face. My little bean and I will be so happy here. It’s what I’m projecting. I’m going to make it happen.
I