Chapter Sixteen

 

“I can’t explain it, Mir. Not exactly. All I know is that I’ve got a really bad feeling the end is in sight. No, it’s nothing he’s said or done. It’s just that he’s been really moody lately, quiet. Yes, I’ve asked him what’s wrong, and he just says it’s work related, that he’s been really busy, yada yada yada. And last weekend he came this close to refusing sex. No, we wound up screwing like rabbits, but only after I opened with a BJ. No, he’s never not wanted sex before. Oh, God, he’s getting ready to break up with me, isn’t he?” wailed Cara.

Mirai heaved a sigh of mingled irritation and frustration. “Are you finished with the babbling for a minute or two?” she asked on the other end of the line. “Because if you don’t get a grip on yourself, I’m going to come over there and do it for you. Calm down, okay?”

But following her BFF’s advice was easier said than done, especially since Cara had been worrying and imagining the worst ever since last Saturday night. It was Thursday now, and she’d just walked in the door of her apartment less than ten minutes ago after her evening class. And even though she was exhausted as usual by the end of the day, she badly needed to hear her friend’s reassuring voice.

Since Dante had left her apartment on Saturday, she hadn’t heard a word from him. That in itself was hardly unusual, given his general lack of communication in between their Friday night dates. And ever since one of her short-lived college boyfriends had called her an insecure, needy pest for texting and calling him too often, Cara had been scrupulously careful not to repeat her actions - even though in her opinion she really hadn’t contacted the jerk as frequently as he’d claimed. With Dante in particular, she’d sensed he wouldn’t appreciate receiving messages from her on a regular basis, so she only got in touch with him when it was absolutely necessary.

But she’d been sorely tempted every single day this past week to call him or send him a quick text just to see if everything was okay. It wasn’t like him at all to be as quiet and moody as he’d been last weekend, and Cara was skeptical that work related issues were really to blame. And maybe it was just her various insecurities - God knew she had too many of those to count! - or her tendency to overreact at times, but she had this horrible, sinking feeling that Dante was growing bored with her, and was ready to move on. He’d warned her, after all, from the very beginning of their relationship, that he couldn’t make her any promises or guarantees about how long this would last between them.

“I’ve been trying to stay calm for the last five days,” she told Mirai now. “But nothing’s working. You know, come to think of it, Dante’s been a little off ever since he went to that wedding a few weeks ago - moody, uncommunicative, like he’s got something big on his mind.”

“How’s the sex life been?” inquired Mirai, never one to shy away from asking personal questions.

“Well, this is Dante we’re talking about, after all, so of course any sort of sex is fantastic,” replied Cara. “I mean, he could just sort of lay there and let me do all the work and I’d still get off every single time. But one thing I have noticed the last few times he’s been over - now, this is going to sound really greedy or like I’m some sort of nympho or something - but we only do it one time.”

“Uh, and how many times do you usually - as you so succinctly put it - do it?” asked Mirai, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

“At least twice. Usually three. And there were a few times when he was really horny and I think I counted four. And that doesn’t count the extra times he gets me off - you know, with his hand or his mouth. Did I ever mention that he’s really, really good at oral?” sighed Cara, a little mortified to realize she was getting wet just thinking about Dante going down on her.

Mirai made a sound that resembled a snarl. “Yes, damn you, you have definitely mentioned it! Usually right after I had another dud of a date who could barely keep it up long enough to finish the job. Do you know how difficult it is to find a guy who really knows his way around a girl’s vajayjay? So stop rubbing it in, okay? And you were right the first time - you do sound like a greedy, selfish twat for expecting more than one fantastic orgasm at a time. Some of us have gone without one of those elusive O’s for longer than they care to admit.”

Cara chuckled in spite of herself, and was glad she’d taken a few extra minutes to call up the best friend who could always make her smile and feel better no matter what the circumstances.

“Look, stop overthinking everything for once in your life, okay?” said Mirai soothingly. “And for God’s sake, be grateful that you’ve at least got a sex life! Now get some sleep. Don’t you have to wake up at some ungodly hour of the morning?”

But despite the lateness of the hour, Cara wasn’t able to fall asleep easily that night. And in spite of Mirai’s so-called pep talk, she didn’t feel a whole lot better about the current state of her relationship with Dante. If one could actually call what they had a relationship, that is. For more than four months now, nothing had really changed, and it certainly hadn’t moved forward. She would wait for him in the lobby of his office building each Friday after work, despite her repeated offers to meet him up in his office. Cara just assumed he didn’t want his co-workers, especially his business partner Howie, to see the two of them together. Just like she had yet to meet any of his friends or family members.

They would have dinner out, always at a place in an outlying neighborhood or even slightly out of the city limits. Last Friday, for example, he’d taken her to a seafood restaurant in Half Moon Bay, a small coastal town about thirty miles south of San Francisco. The fact that the food had been delicious, and the ocean view breathtaking hadn’t helped to diminish her growing dismay that he seemed to be going out of his way to keep their relationship a closely guarded secret.

After dinner, they’d return to her tiny hole of an apartment and have sex before Dante would kiss her good-bye and head back to his place. He’d return on Saturday evening when she would cook him dinner before they would wind up in bed again.

That pretty much summed up their relationship, thought Cara with a sigh. Dante had never once suggested seeing her during the week, whether it was for coffee or lunch, and rarely contacted her. Mirai had decreed that Cara was pretty much just his fuck buddy, willing and available whenever he needed to get his rocks off, with a free dinner thrown in once a week for good measure. Cara would just laugh it off when her friend made those sort of observations, insisting time after time that being fuck buddies with a guy was all she had time for these days, and that given her crazy schedule she would make the very worst sort of girlfriend right now. But no matter how many times she kept telling that to Mirai - and to herself - she never really believed it.

If she wasn’t careful, she scolded herself, she was going to turn into her mother - a willing doormat for the handsome, charming man she was crazy in love with, who made all manner of excuses for his behavior, and clung to him desperately for fear that he would leave her one day.

Though Dante, of course, was nothing at all like her useless father. He was kind and considerate and generous, always offering to buy her things. Unlike Mark, who’d been too busy to talk the last several times she had called him, or who hadn’t returned her emails or texts in almost two months. His new wife and two young children were his family now, with Cara always an afterthought, a nuisance that he probably wished would just go away.

She wondered sadly if perhaps Dante thought of her that way, too - if he’d be relieved if she suggested they go their separate ways so that he could find someone he deemed worthy of meeting his family and friends. And if she was the one to end things, it could be on her terms, and save her pride in the process. And if it broke her heart to do so - well, that was going to happen sooner than later anyway, wasn’t it?

But as she tossed and turned, still unable to fall asleep despite her exhaustion, Cara knew that she would never voluntarily walk away from Dante, no matter how much it was going to hurt when he inevitably did the same to her.

 

 

 

September – Labor Day Weekend

 

Cara couldn’t remember when she’d felt quite this miserable - stuffy nose, sore throat, queasy tummy, and overall fatigue. Summer colds were officially the worst, she thought, even though there were only three weeks of the season officially remaining. And the foggy, drizzly, and windy weather in San Francisco this afternoon was anything but summery. It would have been an ideal day to curl up under the covers, drink a cup of hot tea, and binge watch as many movies as possible before falling asleep from the cold medicine she’d been taking religiously every few hours.

The problems with that delightful scenario were plentiful. For one, she didn’t actually own a DVD player or any current movies. She could have easily borrowed the latter from Mirai, who probably owned a few thousand movies and TV series on DVD. But while Cara’s laptop had more or less been fixed, it was still temperamental, and she could almost guarantee that any DVD would freeze up halfway through the movie, and possibly cause something else to go awry with the ancient computer. The laptop had been a hand-me-down from Sharon, given to Cara when she’d started high school. The new laptop that Sharon had bought for herself after scrimping and saving for more than a year had been one of the things Mark had taken for himself when the house had been sold. And when he’d replaced that particular device with a brand new one a year later, Holly had taken it upon herself to give Sharon’s computer to her younger sister instead of returning it to Cara.

But aside from the issue with watching a movie, today was officially laundry day, and no matter how crappy she felt Cara had been obliged to make the tedious trek to the laundromat. Fortunately, she’d just tossed everything into the dryer, so she could get out of here in less than an hour and head home to get some much needed sleep. Tomorrow was Labor Day, so the office was closed, and she could use the time to study and hopefully get over her cold.

To make matters worse, she hadn’t seen Dante at all this weekend. He had driven up to Healdsburg on Friday morning, with plans to spend the holiday weekend with his family. He’d mentioned a co-ed baby shower for his sister, who was due to deliver around the end of the month, as well as some sort of informal reunion with several of his old high school buddies.

But it was just as well, thought Cara as she blew her nose, that Dante wasn’t around right now to see her like this. Without glancing into a mirror, she knew how awful she must look - puffy eyes, reddened nose, pale skin, ratty hair. She’d dressed for warmth and comfort rather than style today - not that going to the laundromat was any sort of reason to get dressed up. Her navy sweatpants had holes in both knees, while her UC Berkeley sweatshirt had been washed so many times that several of the letters had been worn off. The fake Ugg boots she wore were warm but otherwise - well, they looked exactly like what they were - a cheap imitation of the real thing. Mirai would have shrieked in horror if she could see her BFF right now, thought Cara, so it was just as well that her parents were both in town and keeping her occupied with shopping excursions, brunches and dinners out, and concert tickets.

Everyone she knew, in fact, seemed to have plans for this holiday weekend, thought Cara glumly. In addition to Dante and Mirai, her co-workers were all off somewhere fun and relaxing and warm - Angela and Nick were on a ten day vacation to Fiji; Leah and Tyler were visiting her parents in Newport Beach; and even Deepak, the avowed workaholic, had been convinced to go away for the long weekend to Las Vegas with some college friends. Her father was most likely enjoying himself with his new family at their beachfront home in Florida, and wouldn’t be able to find the time to reply to her latest email for at least a week, if at all.

Forcing herself to put an abrupt halt to this private pity party, Cara checked how many minutes remained on the dryer cycle, then tried to figure out when she was due to take more cold medicine. Realizing she was almost a half hour overdue for the next dose, she was fumbling through her backpack for the packet of gel capsules when her phone buzzed with an incoming call. Figuring it had to be Mirai calling to check up on her, she was startled to see Dante’s name on the caller ID instead.

“Hey, I thought you were supposed to be watching your sister opening up all of the baby gifts,” she joked. “Or is it already time for cake?”

Dante’s voice sounded somber in reply. “The shower was yesterday. I’m actually back in San Francisco right now. And - are you sick or something? You don’t sound very good.”

“Just a cold is all, nothing serious,” she assured him, then proved herself to be a liar when she began to cough hoarsely.

“That sounds pretty serious to me,” he replied. “Have you seen a doctor?”

She didn’t dare tell him that due to the thousand dollar deductible on her health insurance she couldn’t afford to see a doctor, especially for something as relatively minor as a cold. Knowing Dante, he’d drag her to the nearest urgent care clinic and insist on paying the bill.

“Honestly, it’s just a garden variety cold. And I’ve only had it a few days so it needs to run its course. I don’t need to see a doctor at this point.”

“Hmm.” He sounded anything but convinced, but didn’t press her further on the matter. “And where are you exactly? It sounds pretty noisy in the background, like machinery or something.”

“Laundromat. Sunday is wash day.”

“Why are you doing laundry at a laundromat?” he asked incredulously. “Not,” he added hastily, “that you’d be doing anything else at a laundromat. What I meant to ask was why aren’t you using the washer and dryer where you live?”

“The rental agreement doesn’t include laundry privileges,” she explained. “Something about a previous tenant breaking the dryer after overloading it. And another one who literally did two or three loads every single day and ran the utility bills sky high. So by the time I came along, my landlord decided not to take that sort of risk again.”

“I guess I never realized that,” mused Dante. “Look, I know this is short notice, but I was hoping to see you this afternoon for a little while. How much longer do you expect to be there?”

“Let me check.” She walked over to the dryer. “My stuff will be dry in less than fifteen minutes. And the next bus will come by about ten minutes after that. Which would get me to my place in approximately forty five minutes.”

“Forget about taking the bus. I’ll pick you up. What address is the laundromat at?”

She told him and waited while he plugged the information into the navigational system of whatever car he was driving today. “Dante, you don’t need to come all the way out here to get me,” she protested. “I take the bus all the time, it’s no big deal.”

There was a brief pause before he replied. “Cara, for once please don’t argue with me, okay? According to the GPS I should be there in fifteen minutes. Is it easy to find parking in the area?”

“Not really. I’ll just wait for you outside, that’ll be easier. See you in a few.”

As she ended the call, Cara frantically began to rummage through her pack, though not for the cold medicine this time. She realized with a sense of doom that there was very little she could do at this point about her bedraggled appearance, but she had to do something. A glance in her little pocket mirror made her shudder in revulsion, and she wished that she’d followed Mirai’s oft-given advice about packing a makeup kit with her. She managed to rake a brush through her tangled, semi-greasy hair - having been too lethargic this morning to wash the overlong tresses - before hastily scrabbling it into a thick braid. From the depths of her well worn backpack she unearthed a nearly empty tube of nude lip gloss, and managed to scrounge enough to coat her dry, chapped lips. Without any other makeup on hand, she resorted to the old fashioned tactic of pinching her cheeks to get some color in them.

Unfortunately, there weren’t any tactics she was familiar with that would make her holey sweatpants and baggy sweatshirt look any more appealing. If she had a sewing kit on her - another must-have, according to Mirai - then she could quickly repair the visible holes over each knee. But there was nothing she could do at this late notice to get rid of the marinara sauce stains splattered across the front of her sweatshirt. She would just have to keep her fingers crossed that Dante wouldn’t notice.

As she stuffed her dry clothes into a duffle bag, Cara was faced with a new worry and tried really, really hard not to jump to conclusions about why Dante wanted to see her so unexpectedly. They never saw each other on Sundays, since those were the times he typically spent with his family. But, she reasoned as she walked out to the curb to wait for him, he had seen his family the last couple of days.

Did he want sex? A home cooked meal? For once, she wasn’t in the mood for either, given how lousy she felt. And she was wearing her oldest, rattiest set of underwear right now, a pair of panties and a bra that she would positively cringe at having him see her in. No, as much as she’d missed him, as much as she wanted to be with him, she was going to have to find a way to curb his passions, because hell would freeze over before she’d willingly allow him to see her wearing such tattered undies.

Or did he want to see her unannounced on a Sunday afternoon for some other reason - a reason that she dreaded to even think about. Cara shook her head fiercely, scolding herself for once again overthinking everything. Dante probably just felt bad that he’d been a little out of it lately, or felt guilty that she had been alone all weekend while he’d been having fun with his family. He was kind and considerate in that way, after all, and she felt better instantly at that realization.

He pulled up in the loading zone just outside of the laundromat, driving his BMW this afternoon. He emerged from the car before she could protest, and her heart made that funny little jump it always seemed to do when he was nearby. He looked tanned and buff and extremely fit, dressed in his usual weekend garb of jeans and a fitted T-shirt, this one in a light gray. And while the sight of him in one of his designer suits, crisp white dress shirts, and silk ties always made her go weak at the knees, she actually preferred him dressed like he was right now. The casual look seemed more natural for a big, tough guy like Dante, and it made her less self conscious about her own rather pathetic wardrobe.

“Here. Let me toss that in the back seat,” he offered, taking the duffle bag from her, then frowned as he realized how heavy it was. “Don’t tell me you were going to lug this thing home on the bus? And your backpack as well.”

Cara shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal over what for her was simply part of her weekly routine. “I’m stronger than I look,” she joked. “Instead of lifting weights I lift laundry bags.”

But Dante didn’t seem to find her attempt at humor the least bit amusing as he helped her inside the car. Nor, apparently, did he appear to be thrilled with the neighborhood they were presently driving through.

“Is this seriously the closest laundromat to your place?” he asked, shaking his head in disgust as he took in the numerous corner bars, liquor stores, boarded up buildings, and mostly unsavory looking pedestrians. “This area isn’t someplace you ought to be hanging out in, even if it’s just to do your laundry.”

She nodded. “There was one closer but it went out of business last year. And this place isn’t all that bad, not really. The neighborhood is quieter on Sunday afternoons than it is say on Friday evenings.”

Dante shook his head in disbelief. “Please do not tell me that you used to take the bus to and from this area on a Friday night.”

“Just a few times,” she assured him hastily. “I switched my laundry day to Sundays after that.”

He muttered something beneath his breath that she couldn’t quite catch, but she knew without having to ask that it wasn’t anything she wanted him to repeat.

“How was the baby shower?” she inquired brightly, anxious to change the subject.

Dante grimaced. “Well, I’ve got nothing to compare it to, but let’s just say watching my sister open up boxes of baby clothes and diaper bags and stuffed toys wasn’t the most fun I’ve ever had. But Talia certainly enjoyed it, so I guess that’s one of the sacrifices you make for your family.”

Cara patted him on the arm. “You’re a good brother. I’m sure your sisters think so, too.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

She continued to keep up a cheerful patter of conversation during the short drive to her apartment, forcing herself to remain calm and upbeat when his replies were mostly monosyllabic and seemed forced. But when her constant chatter provoked a coughing spell, and earned her a reproving look from Dante, she fished a cough drop from her backpack and kept silent for the duration of the drive.

He insisted on carrying both the laundry bag and her backpack inside, and she cringed anew as she unlocked the door, recalling now that she’d been too tired and sick this morning to do much tidying up. The bedcovers were rumpled, the dishes unwashed, and she’d forgotten to take the trash out. But Dante didn’t seem to care, or even notice, that her usually neat little apartment looked as unkempt as she did today.

“Can I get you anything?” she offered. “Coffee, water, I think I have some beer around. Oh, and there’s half a bottle of wine left from the last time you were here. Do you think it’s still any good? I didn’t want to throw it away since it was so expensive but if…”

Dante placed a finger over her lips. “Hush. You always tell me to warn you if you start to babble too much. Consider this your warning. And no, I don’t want anything to drink. We - I need to talk to you about something, Cara. Let’s sit over here, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Reluctantly, almost fearfully, she allowed him to guide her over to the futon where she hastily attempted to straighten out the bedcovers until he placed a gentle hand on her arm.

“Leave it,” he urged. “I don’t give a damn if the bed is made, especially not when it’s obvious you feel like shit.”

Cara nodded and plopped down beside him. His hands were clasped on his lap, and his gaze was directed on the opposite wall as he visibly struggled with what he wanted to tell her. And for once in her life she had never felt less like talking, wanted to beg him not to say anything, but to simply hold her instead. Hold her in his arms and never, ever let her go.

Instead, he spoke the words she had dreaded he would say, the words she had foolishly hoped she would never hear from his lips.

“Cara. This - this isn’t easy for me to tell you,” he began carefully, almost woodenly. “These past few months spending time with you, going out with you, have been wonderful. You’ve been wonderful. But I told you from the very beginning that I couldn’t make you any promises, that I wasn’t offering you any sort of commitment. And we also promised each other that when the time came for us to move on, that it would be without regrets. I hope that you still feel that way, because - ”

She shut her eyes tightly, already feeling the tears welling up. “Because you’re breaking up with me,” she finished hollowly. “Because we won’t be seeing each other anymore.”

He took her hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly. “Yes,” he replied quietly. “We had a lot of good times together, Cara, and you made me laugh, made me happy. But it’s time for us both to move on now, to go back to just being friends. At least, I hope you’ll still want to be my friend.”

“Friends.” She repeated the word. “Just friends.”

“Yes. I care about you, Cara, about your wellbeing. It isn’t right that you’re on your own this way, that your father isn’t doing more to help you. So I want you to know that you can always count on me to be there if you need something. I want to continue being a good friend to you. If that’s what you want, of course.”

Cara kept her eyes closed, having little to no faith in her ability to stop from bursting into tears otherwise. “I - I guess so, yeah. I mean, you’re still Nick’s client so we’ll have to see each other in the office once in awhile. I just - well, I know we agreed that things between us were casual and all, but, well, what went wrong? Like you said, we had a good time together. Did I say something, do something, to make you mad? I’ve tried so hard not to be clingy or needy or ask you for stuff and..”

Her voice cracked a little then, whether it was from the unshed tears she was battling to hold back or her cold. Dante slid his hand over her knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“No, honey,” he told her tenderly. “God, I’m not sure you have it in you to make anyone angry or upset. And you’re the least clingy female I’ve ever met, not to mention stubborn as hell about accepting gifts. You’re kind and sweet and generous, and one of these days you’ll meet a guy who can appreciate all of those qualities, and hopefully be deserving of a girl like you.”

She sniffled, a loud, decidedly unfeminine sound, but at this point she was beyond caring. “Why can’t you be that guy?” she whispered brokenly, feeling what small bit of control she still possessed swiftly starting to disintegrate. “You and I get along really well, we have a lot in common. Why can’t we just keep seeing each other the way we’ve been doing? I’ve never asked you for anything, Dante, especially a commitment. So if you aren’t upset with me about something, and you still like being with me, then why end it this way?”

Dante hesitated, and as she glanced over in his direction she noticed that he was visibly uncomfortable with the way this conversation was going. “Because - well, it isn’t fair to you,” he answered haltingly. “You deserve someone who can make that sort of commitment to you, who can be the man you need. You and I are just at different points in our life right now, Cara. I’ve already finished college and started a business and traveled all over, whereas you haven’t done any of that. What if you get a great job offer in another part of the country and have to move away?”

She shrugged. “So what? I’ll be through with school in another year, and will see what my job options are at that point. Why can’t we just keep seeing each other until then? I’m in no hurry at all to settle down and get married and stuff, and it honestly doesn’t matter to me if things stay the way they’ve been between us. Unless - oh. Oh, God. There’s someone else, isn’t there? You’ve met someone new and you think it could be serious with her and that’s why - oh, geez, what an idiot I’ve been!”

The shocked expression on his face gave her all the answers she needed. The real reason he was breaking things off with her - and likely why he’d been so distant as of late - was because there was another woman in the picture now. Dante had met someone new, no doubt someone beautiful and poised and sophisticated, someone worthy of him and of being introduced to his family and friends. It should have been so obvious, so clear, and yet the thought hadn’t even occurred to her until just now.

“It’s not what you think,” Dante insisted. “And it’s not someone new. Not exactly. I - well, at my cousin’s wedding back in July I ran into my ex-girlfriend there. Katie. And we talked for a little while, mostly to clear the air between us, and..”

“And you realized you still had feelings for her,” Cara commented numbly. “Have you been seeing her all this time, then?”

“No!” He was adamant in his denial, shaking his head emphatically. “Not in the way you think, anyway. I’ve never been a cheater, Cara, or a two-timer. When I’m with a woman I’m only with her, one hundred percent of the way. I haven’t been sleeping with Katie, haven’t even kissed her. But we have met a few times for coffee or lunch. She’s living back in the area again, gave up her acting career for good this time, and wants to go back to school or find a new profession. So I’ve been giving her some advice, discussing ideas, that sort of thing. And in the process - well, you hit the nail on the head. I realized I still had feelings for her, that I wanted to give our relationship another try.”

Cara scoffed. “This is the same woman who chose her career over you, isn’t it? The one who turned you down cold so she could become an actress. And now that things haven’t worked out so well for her, she’s come running back. I thought you were smarter than that, Dante. I guess I was wrong.”

“It’s not like that,” he protested. “And believe me, I know exactly what I’m getting into. Things will be different this time around.”

She shrugged, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her suddenly weary head on bent knees. “Whatever. It’s got nothing to do with me, does it? And if Katie is the one who makes you happy, then you should be with her. Thanks for being honest with me, and at least telling me in person.”

Dante reached out to stroke her bent head soothingly. “What? You think I would have told you something like this over the phone?” he asked in disbelief.

Cara jerked away from his touch, not caring when he looked dismayed at this rejection. “It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened to me,” she muttered. “Or via a text message. Anyway, there really isn’t a whole lot more to say, is there? I’d suggest you get your stuff and leave, but since you never left any of your things here - since you never once spent the night - that’s sort of a moot point.”

“I don’t blame you for being angry with me,” he commiserated. “I haven’t exactly been the ideal boyfriend these past few months. But I meant what I said earlier, Cara - I really enjoyed our time together, enjoyed being with you. You made me feel good about myself again, helped me through a rough patch.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “A rough patch caused by the same woman you’re going back to now. Jesus.”

“I know it sounds stupid. And I don’t expect you to understand or approve. But Katie and I have a history together, Cara. I was going to ask her to marry me earlier this year. And seeing her again made me realize that I still had feelings for her. Feelings that didn’t entirely go away just because I was angry with her. And, yes, we have some issues to work through, some things we need to resolve, but I know I at least need to try.”

Hearing him admit that he still cared for the woman who’d broken his heart made her own heart crumble into tiny pieces. And unleashed the floodgate of tears she’d been struggling so hard to keep at bay. The tears ran unchecked down her cheeks, and she brushed them away impatiently, only to find more of them streaming uncontrollably from her eyes. She reached for a wad of tissues that she’d left on the small table next to the futon, and tried without success to stem the tide of her weeping.

“Cara.” Dante’s voice was reproving. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her against him despite her protests. He brushed a kiss tenderly against her temple, and smoothed back several untamed curls that had long ago escaped from her messy braid. And because it felt so good to be held against his big, strong body, even though he’d just broken her heart, she clung to him, burrowing her face against his neck as she sobbed uncontrollably.

“Hey,” he chided gently. “What happened to our agreement, hmm? No regrets, no accusations. And you promised not to tell all your friends that I’m lousy in bed.”

In reply, she just cried harder, realizing that it was really and truly over, that there would be no more dinners out together, or evenings spent talking over a home cooked meal and a great bottle of wine. And there would definitely not be any more hours-long, mind-blowing, amazing lovemaking sessions. That particular privilege, among numerous others, would now belong to his no-longer ex-girlfriend Katie.

“Shh. Shh.” He tried almost desperately now to soothe her, to get her to stop crying and calm down. “Come on, Cara. You promised me that you could handle a relationship between us. That you were mature enough to deal with it. And that you wouldn’t fall apart when one of us decided it was time to end things.”

Cara lifted her head from his shoulder, keeping her eyes downcast as she realized how truly, truly hideous she must look by now. As if having one of the worst colds in her lifetime hadn’t been enough, now she’d been crying her eyes out for several minutes. Snippily, she bet that Katie looked beautiful even when she cried. And that someone as perfect as she probably was never got colds or the flu.

“I’m not falling apart,” she protested weakly. “Even after sitting by my mother’s bedside for forty eight hours straight and watching her die, I didn’t fall apart. And I know I promised you I wouldn’t make a fuss if things didn’t work out between us. But - well, I’m sad, Dante. Sad because I loved being with you. Loved being your lover. You made me happier than I’ve felt in a really long time, and now I’m sad that I won’t get to see you again. Oh, I know you said we could be friends, but it won’t be the same. Not even close. And I’m going to miss you so much. So I’m sorry if my tears upset you, but I tend to cry when I’m sad. Or am I not permitted to be sad?”

He cursed softly beneath his breath, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes held a bleak look, almost as though he wanted to cry himself. Using his thumb to brush away the tears from her eyes, he kissed her forehead this time.

“Of course you’re permitted to be sad,” he assured her. “Believe it or not, I’m sad, too. This wasn’t an easy decision for me, Cara. Not by a long shot. I know the risk I’m taking by letting Katie back into my life. And I also know what I’m giving up by letting you go. I’m going to miss you, too. More than you know.”

She got to her feet, badly needing to put some distance between them, and to get control of herself before she did something really disgusting like throw up. Or pass out. Her throat felt raw and scratchy from the cold and from crying so much, so she silently filled a mug with water and stuck it in the microwave before scrounging around for a tea bag.

“You can go now,” she told him in an oddly detached voice. “I’m going to have some tea, put my laundry away, and take a nap. Maybe not in that order.”

Dante walked over to where she stood in her tiny kitchenette. “I don’t want to leave you like this, Cara. Not when you’re still so upset. Not to mention being sick. Are you positive you won’t let me take you to see a doctor?”

She unearthed a tea bag from a box in the back of a cabinet. “I just have a cold, Dante. Nothing some Nyquil and a few hours of sleep won’t cure. As for being upset - well, I’ll get over it. Just like I got over my mom dying and my dad remarrying and selling the house and then announcing he wasn’t going to pay for the rest of my college tuition. I might be young, but I’m tougher than I look. So, please. You should really go.”

“All right.” He blew out a breath of frustration. “But before I do there’s something I want to give you, Cara. Something that I want you to accept and not fight me on. Okay?”

Cara frowned as he dug something out of his pocket. “What exactly are you giving me - the keys to one of your cars?”

Dante shook his head. “Trust me. If I thought for one minute that you’d actually accept something like that, I would have gladly given you one months ago. Though I suppose you could use part of this - or all of it - to buy your own car. Here. This is for you.”

He was holding out a check, and she took it from him warily, reluctantly, only to nearly drop it when she saw the amount.

“Holy crap!” she exclaimed. “This can’t possibly be right. You - you want to give me a check for - for twenty-five thousand dollars? Are you crazy? Because that’s the only reasonable explanation I can think of for why you’d imagine for even a second that I’d accept any money at all from you, much less a fortune like this.”

“I want you to take the money and use it on yourself,” he explained calmly. “For whatever you want or need. It kills me to know how hard you work during the day, and then have to drag yourself to classes four nights a week. I’ve seen how exhausted you are on Friday nights. And I know the fall semester has already started, but maybe for the spring you could take a leave of absence from your job and go to school full time during the day. Back at the Berkeley campus, where you should have been all along. That check should be more than enough money to pay for your tuition and help support you for a semester or two.”

Cara shook her head emphatically. “I am not taking a leave of absence, Dante. Angela has been good to me, and I won’t do that to her. And I’m also not taking this check, under any circumstances. What is this anyway - payment for services rendered or something? Gee, I’m not sure whether to be flattered or grossly insulted!”

Dante looked shocked at her accusation. “Jesus, no! It’s nothing like that, Cara. Nothing at all. Frankly, I’m the one who’s insulted that you’d even accuse me of something so crass. You’re the very furthest thing from a whore, and the check isn’t payment for having sex with me.”

“I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean it that way,” she admitted grudgingly. “And while I appreciate the gesture, I am not taking money from you, Dante. I don’t care if it’s twenty-five thousand or twenty-five cents. Thank you, but no.”

But he adamantly refused to take back the check she held out to him. “I knew you’d be stubborn about this,” he grumbled. “Knew you’d make it difficult for me to try and do something nice for you. Look, don’t use it for school then. Use it for something else altogether. Move to a bigger apartment, a nicer apartment. Preferably one with on-site laundry facilities so that you don’t have to lug that huge duffle bag on the bus and use a laundromat in a questionable part of the city. Or get a car. Go on a nice vacation. Buy yourself a whole new wardrobe. Or just save it for the future. One way or the other, I want you to take that money, Cara.”

“Why?” she challenged. “Because you feel responsible for me? Because you feel sorry for me, or think I’m some sort of charity case? Or maybe it’s because giving me this check will help you feel better about yourself, make you feel less guilty about dumping me for another woman.”

Dante’s cheeks reddened, and his dark eyes flashed angrily. “My feelings don’t matter,” he muttered. “I’ll need to deal with those on my own somehow, and even if I gave you half of my net worth it wouldn’t make me feel less guilty about how this has unfolded. Look at this way, Cara. Since I became successful, I’ve helped a lot of people out. I loaned money to different family members for their businesses. Remodeled my mom’s house inside and out. Put both of my sisters through college. So why won’t you let me help you out the same way I helped them?”

“Because I’m not your sister. Or your mother. Or another member of your family,” retorted Cara. “I’m none of those things. I’m nobody to you, Dante. Just some silly, naïve girl you used to bang twice a week.”

“Cara,” he said reprovingly, shaking his head in denial. “God, honey, you have to know that isn’t the truth! Have to know that I never, ever thought of you that way.”

“Do I?” she challenged. “And exactly how am I supposed to know that, huh? You thought so highly of me that you kept bringing me to all of these out-of-the-way restaurants where we wouldn’t run the risk of seeing anyone you knew. You never once thought I was good enough to meet your precious family, good enough to bring home to your mother. I mean, I know I’m not the best looking girl in the world, that I’m overweight and don’t have nice clothes and probably next to your gorgeous actress girlfriend I’d just fade into the woodwork. But I have feelings, Dante. Feelings that were hurt every single time you went out of your way to make sure no one saw us together.”

This time the color on his cheeks did the opposite and paled alarmingly. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his face. When he opened his eyes, there was such a bleak, desperate look in them that she very nearly rushed over to comfort him.

“Cara. Christ, I don’t even know what to say,” he replied tiredly. “Why haven’t you said something about this before? It’s obviously been bothering you for some time.”

She dunked the tea bag in the hot water, unwilling to meet his eyes. “I guess because I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for starters. And I told you before, Dante. I was just so happy to be with you, enjoyed spending time with you, that it didn’t matter to me where we went or what we did. You could have taken me to the closest 7-11 for Slurpees and day-old hot dogs and I would have been over the moon. And I guess I was afraid that if I complained or asked you for something you weren’t ready to give me that you’d stop seeing me. And I would have done just about anything to prevent that from happening.”

He came to her then, cupping her cheeks between his palms, his voice breaking. “Cara. I can see now that I never deserved you, not even for a day. I can’t even think straight right now. But you need to know this. Yes, I brought you places where we wouldn’t be likely to run into people I knew. But it wasn’t because I was ashamed of you, for Christ’s sake. It was just - well, my family is wonderful, the best family in the world. But they’re also nosy as hell, want to know everything that goes on in my life. And if word had reached them that I was dating someone new, they would have demanded all the details, insisted on meeting you, hinted that I should settle down. And I just wanted something for myself, wanted to keep my private life private for once. I’m sorry if it seemed that I was hiding you away, even though I sort of was. But not for the reasons you thought.”

She nodded. “I get it now. Thanks for clearing all that up. But I’m still not accepting this check.”

She tore it into dozens of little pieces, scattering them over her tiny kitchen sink.

Dante sighed, then gave her a frustrated smile. “Of course you aren’t. I didn’t think it would be that easy. But if you ever change your mind, ever need anything, I want you to call me. All right?”

Cara could feel the tears beginning to well up again, and was anxious to have him leave before her humiliation deepened. “Yes. Though I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”

“Stubborn till the end.” He dropped a kiss on the bridge of her nose, an affectionate little gesture that one might give to a child. “And just so you know, my mother would have adored you. Take care of yourself, honey.”

He left then, closing the door quietly behind him. Cara took two sips of her tea before pouring the rest down the drain, recalling now that she hated tea and must have kept the bags here for the times Mirai visited. Thinking of her BFF made her reach for her phone so that she could call the one remaining person in the world she could count on to be there for her.

“Mir?” she sniffled as her friend answered the call. “He broke up with me, Mir. Just a few minutes ago.”

Mirai cursed vividly on the other end of the line when she heard how distressed Cara sounded. “Give me half an hour to gather supplies and I’ll be right over.”

“You’re sure?” croaked Cara. “Aren’t you supposed to be visiting with your parents?”

“Not tonight. They’re attending some fancy party and Rene has a date. So you just need to tell me what to bring over - pizza, chocolate, or booze? On second thought, forget it. As bad as you sound, we’re going to need all three.”