“You know I texted and called you endlessly before I left Rome, right?” It’s a rhetorical question. Of course she knows, but I’m starting to gear up now, my anger returning to a bubble. “Endlessly.”
Her smile falters a bit more, and I’d say chagrined is the best way to describe her expression now.
“I even stopped by your flat. Twice.” I hold up two fingers in a peace sign to punctuate my point. “And I’m pretty sure you were home and just chose to leave me standing in your foyer like apathetic idiot.”
The smile slides the rest of the way off her face, and I see her throat move in a nervous swallow.
I jerk a thumb over my shoulder at my building. “I texted and called from here, too. For weeks.Weeks, Marina.”
“I know.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “I—”
But I don’t let her finish. Oh, no, I’m on a roll now, and the words just pour out of me. “Do you know how confused I was? How sad? How fucking hurt? Maybe itwasjust casual, but I thought we were at least friends. I guess I was wrong. The friends I know don’t do that to each other. They don’t leave each other hanging like so much damp laundry for months and then just show back up wanting to talk. No. That’s not okay.”
She looks stricken now, like I’ve slapped her. The blood has drained from her face, leaving her white as the whipped cream on my latte this morning, and I finally stop, feeling a little bloom of guilt in the center of my chest. It’s not huge because I don’t have anything to feel guilty about, but it’s enough to stop my verbal rampage.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I shouldn’t have shown up like this. I shouldn’t have surprised you.”
“No. You shouldn’t have.”
She swallows again, and I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. When she finally meets my gaze, her eyes are wet as she asks, “May I text you? And maybe, when—or if—you’re ready, we can talk?” She has gone from super confident and smiling to incredibly hesitant and blinking a lot, and Idofeel guilty about that. But I’m still mad.
I sigh. Loudly. And I make a show of looking around, up and down the street before I return my gaze to her hopeful one. “Sure, Marina. Text me. Maybe I’ll answer.” I bend down and scoop up Reggie. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date.”
With that parting shot, I turn on my heel and head into mybuilding, hurrying past Teddy, my doorman, and into an open elevator waiting for me. I manage to keep it together until the doors slide shut and I’m sure it’s just me and Reggie in there.
I intend to simply blow out a breath, relieved to be out of that situation, but with the air comes a sob, and it surprises both me and Reggie, who turns his head in my arms to look at my face. I close my eyes and the tears slip out from under my eyelids.
Back in my apartment, I hit the bathroom to fix my makeup. I only have a tiny inkling ofmaybe I’ll skip tonightbefore I shake my head hard and saynoout loud to my reflection.
“You will not let this ruin your night. You’re going.” I point at the reflection, lest she chose not to listen, and fix myself up. I give Reggie a kiss on his head and leave him a couple of treats. I don’t want to run into Marina again, so I leave out the back door of the building and grab a cab, and by the time I’m getting out of it in front of the restaurant, I feel a little better.
“Lily!”
I hear Jessie calling me from up the street, and she picks up her pace as I wait for her. “I forgot your place was nearby,” I say as I hug her.
She holds me at arm’s length and studies me, and I do my best not to squirm or look away. “What’s wrong?” she asks. “Cold feet?”
“No.” I blow out a breath. “I’ll give you three guesses who showed up out of the blue at the front door of my building forty-five minutes ago. And the first two don’t count.”
Jessie squints at my face, and I can almost hear the wheels turning in her head. I know exactly when she comes to the answer because her eyes go hilariously wide and she gasps, “No! Italy?”
“Italy,” I say with a nod.
“What the actual fuck?”
“Exactly my question.”
“Gotta say, Italy showing up in New York unannounced was not on my bingo card.”
“Same, my friend. Same.”
We stand there, shaking our heads in wonder for a moment before Jessie turns serious. “Do you need to bow out?”
There’s no accusation in her voice, and I know that if Ididneed to bow out, Jessie would cover for me. “No. No, I’m good. I want to meet Kya. I’ve been looking forward to this.”
Jessie’s face lights back up, and I know she’s thrilled with my decision. “Excellent. Let’s head in, then. They’re already here.” But then, before we can move toward the door, she stops me with a hand on my arm. “If you start to feel like you need to bail, just say so, okay?”
I nod, surprised and touched by her sensitivity and not understanding how much I needed it from her until I heard it. Because the truth is, I am not myself right now. Emotions I have worked tirelessly for months to keep tamped down or boxed and put away have spilled all over the inside of my head, making a mess I’m not sure how to clean up. And now I need to be “on,” so to speak, while I meet somebody new. Somebody who’s heard about me and wanted to spend an evening and a meal with me. Somebody who is not Marina.
