Chapter 38 Giovanna
Giovanna
Ishut the bedroom door harder than I mean to, the sound ricocheting through the apartment like a gunshot.
I expect to find Tommy there waiting for me, but the apartment is empty, and I immediately berate myself for my stupidity.
He’s almost never home when I come home.
Why would tonight be any different?
My dress clings to me, my heels dig into my feet.
I peel them off, and get in the shower, trying to not only wash off the evening but the anger and heartbreak I’m wrapped in.
It doesn’t work. I put on pajama shorts and a top, clean my face, and stand in the empty apartment.
The silence presses in.
Where is he? Is he okay?
I hate myself for caring. I hate the way I drift to the window, half expecting to see his shape on the sidewalk below.
My chest tightens when I remember the sickening crunch of his fist connecting with Antonio’s jaw.
If I hadn’t already broken up with him, I would have ended it right then.
Antonio has been nothing but kind to me, patient.
A friend.
But the look on Tommy’s face when he hit him: that was my old Tommy.
The one I fell in love with. Dark, authentic, intense.
My man is still in there; he’s just buried under the polite politician he has become.
Fuck. This is my fault. I created this whole situation.
My throat burns when I think about how easily the words fell out of my mouth—we’re done—like it was pre-determined, natural.
Fated.
Leaving him wasn’t on my agenda for tonight.
I’m not sure it was really on my agenda at all, but it happened so organically, the words were out of my mouth before I could stop and think.
But things haven’t been good between us for a long time.
At least not for me. I’ve tried every way I know how to get him to hear me.
I tried just waiting, being patient, living my life on my own until he figured it out and came back around.
But how long am I supposed to wait to be happy?
It should be over.
It is over.
I thought the emptiness I felt, the loneliness that came with being with Tommy, would end if we were broken up.
It didn’t. It’s still there but worse, heavier than before.
I crawl into bed, pull the covers up, roll to my side.
My body is buzzing, restless. Sleep won’t come as I doze, then jolt awake.
Something feels… off. The air is different.
The energy has shifted.
I open my eyes.
Tommy is watching me.
Sitting in the chair by the window, legs spread, elbows on his knees, his eyes locked on me like I’m the only thing in the world.
My heart stumbles, but anger rushes in to cover the terror and the ache.
“Go away.” My voice is sharp, but it cracks as tears build up and choke me.
His face is stony, his voice tight. “That’ll never happen.
”
It’s the same tone he used the first day I let him touch me, the day he warned me—the day he promised me—we’ll never be over.
He rises from the chair, each step deliberate, closing the distance between us.
“Stop.” My voice spikes, but he keeps coming.
“I mean it, Tommy. Don’t.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t stop until he’s at the edge of the bed, looking down at me like I belong to him.
Like I’ve always belonged to him.
“I’m not some dumbass 19-year-old kid anymore,” I snap, fury and panic colliding in my chest. “You can’t just fuck me and make everything better.
I need more than your dick, Tommy.”
His eyes flash, but his voice is soft.
Dangerous. “You have all of me, sweet girl.”
The words cut, and they almost undo me.
Almost.
“No, I don’t.” My throat burns as I choke the words out.
“Your father does. Donovan does. Your brothers do. Not me.”
“That’s not true.
”
“Don’t try to gaslight me. I know my own life.
” My voice shakes. “I don’t want to fight.
I told you what I wanted. I point blank told you what I needed you to do.
I begged. And you still chose everyone else over me.
”
“I’m choosing you.” His hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach for me, and I scoot away.
“I’m choosing our future over everything.
”
“Well, I hope that if and when that future ever arrives that you’re happy in it, Tommy.
You can’t have a future if you don’t have a present.
” My chest caves with the words. “Without now, we have nothing.”
For a second, just a second, something breaks in his expression, and I think maybe he gets it, maybe there’s a sliver of hope, maybe we can get through this.
But then he’s climbing onto the bed, sliding toward me.
“No.” My voice cracks. I push at his chest, panic clawing its way through me.
I shove my way off the bed so fast I nearly trip over the blanket.
My heart is a hammer in my throat.
“You aren’t fucking listening to me.
I will not sleep with you or next to you, Tommy.
I need space. If you’re sleeping here, I’m leaving.
”
His face goes dark, hard as concrete. “Absolutely not. We sleep together.”
“No, Tommy.” I bite the words out, every nerve frayed.
“We don’t. Not anymore. We are over.”
The words ring in the air, heavy, irreversible.
I hear myself say them and know they’re true.
For a moment, he just stares, his jaw clenched.
Then, slowly, he gets off the bed, every movement tight with restrained violence, and walks to the bedroom door.
“Okay, Gi.” His voice is flat, deadly calm.
“If space is what you need, I’ll give you space.
”
I stand there shaking, waiting for the sound of the front door closing, but it never comes.
When I finally crawl back into bed, exhausted, my body won’t let me rest. Hours pass.
The city outside goes quiet. I close my eyes for what feels like only a moment, but when I open them again, the light of dawn is creeping in, soft around the streetlights.
And Tommy is back in the chair by the window, watching me.
Silent.
I stare back at him, and we stay that way for a long time as morning light creeps into the room. Neither of us says a word.