He stared at his hands. ‘You’re just doing this because you’re upset, because of the recipe.’
‘And what’s wrong with that? You seemed perfectly happy to go along with it five seconds ago.’ She could tell him he was wrong. That she’d been acting on real feelings, on real emotion that had been stirring long before they’d made the discovery on Isola San Giulio. But then she’d have to admit she was exactly as stupid as he thought she was.
Naïve.
Still a little girl. The spoiled, rich little girl he worked for. He’d never actually take her seriously. She’d made too many mistakes around Jett – he’d seen her at her absolute, most humiliating worst. You couldn’t come back from that. He would never see her as anything more than the selfish, annoying kid he drove around. She could see it in his eyes now as he looked at her in the dull light from a streetlamp.
Her father had been right. Maybe she should have listened to him. Maybe he’d known more than he’d let on about Nonno Emilio and the wine recipe. Maybe his anger at her independence was rooted in his fear that he’d have one less soldier standing in front of him when the La Marcas fired this inevitable bullet.
There was a dark little voice in her head that had been whispering ever since she’d entered the yellow house on Isola San Giulio.
Would it really be so bad if it all went away? If we lost the case? Then I wouldn’t need my challenges, no more screening people for fakeness or ulterior motives. We’d all be mortal once again. I could live a normal life.
The voice had winged eyeliner and a desire for expensive cigarettes it didn’t like but smoked anyway. It was her back in her uni days, when pissing off Giovanni was the subject she majored in.
She could run away. She could say it now. She could go with him. They could run together. Maybe then he’d finally be able to get rid of his tattoo. He’d see what she saw when she looked at him. He’d see that he wasn’t just someone who could fade away without leaving a mark. A scar.
If she asked to go with him, what would he say?
‘You’ll regret it.’ He passed over her shirt, their eyes not meeting. ‘You might not see it now, but you will.’
‘You mean when you’re gone and I’m alone again?’ Visions of their silhouettes darting like thieves into the night evaporated as reality slid back over her skin along with cool cotton.
‘You’ll never be alone – you’ve got your family. You’ve got Eliza, Daisy, Ian, Pearl.’
‘They don’t ...’ She caught herself; she could not humiliate herself any more than she already had.They don’t know me. They don’t see me. Not completely.
‘Your family needs you now.’
‘Save me the Ted Talk. You don’t have to make up some bullshit, altruistic excuse. If you don’t want—’
‘It’s not an excuse, Nella, I—’
‘You what? You don’t want to be my friend because of this ... thing between us? You don’t want to fuck me because you’ll feel guilty for taking advantage when you’re leaving anyway? It’s all about what you’re doing to me –taking advantage, you’ll regret it. What about what I want?’
‘Whatdoyou want?’
Nella threw up a hand. ‘I want to be your friend! I don’t want you to think of the past fifteen years as some random job you had in another lifetime. I want you to miss us. I want you to come back and visit. I want you to ...Iwant to matter!’
She was beyond feeling shame as fresh tears spilled out with the wail in her voice.
‘Of course you matter.’ He was the calm voice of reason to her squalling hysteria. ‘But I meant what I said when you asked me years ago. It’s impossible for me to be your friend in any real sense of the word.’
‘So you’re leaving.’
‘It’s complicated ... I can’t ... Nella.’ He pulled her close to him so that her head rested on his chest and pressed his lips into her hair.
This thing between them wasn’t enough to get him to stay. If anything, it was pushing him away. Whatever misguided feelings of attraction he’d just admitted to would pass. All they had to do was forget about this, forget this feeling, and then she could change his mind. They could be friends. Because the thought of not having Jett in her life was like cutting out an organ. She could be his friend, of course she could.
This was it, wasn’t it? The catch? Her privilege tax. She had so much she didn’t need, didn’t want – and not ever being able to have Jett completely was her price to pay.
Friends.
It had to be enough.
Her vision blurred as her heart ticked away in time to the flashing blue light of the dash cam.
It’s only for people who care about their cars.
