Chapter 29 #2
“I knew that,” he says quietly. “I’ve always known that. But I thought maybe if I gave you enough time, enough space, enough.” He stops. “I thought I could make you forget them. That eventually what we had would be enough to fill whatever they left empty.”
“I don’t want to forget them.”
The silence is crushing.
He nods. Once. Sharp. Like I’ve confirmed something he didn’t want to be true.
“I need space,” he says finally. “I need to think. I need to figure out if I can actually live with this.” He moves toward the door.
“Saul, please.”
“But first.” He stops. Takes a breath. When he turns back, his face has shifted. Marshal mode sliding back into place. “Pack a bag. You’re not staying here tonight.”
“What?”
“If they found you, I need to assume the location is compromised until I know otherwise.” His voice is controlled. “I’m taking you to a hotel. Neutral location. Somewhere secure.”
“Saul.”
“This isn’t a discussion.” He looks at me. And I see both things in his eyes. The hurt man and the marshal doing his job. “I’m angry. I’m hurt. And yes, I need space to think. But I’m not leaving you alone when I don’t know if you’re safe. So pack a bag. Now.”
The drive to the hotel is silent.
Forty minutes of thick, suffocating quiet. His hands tight on the wheel. My hands twisted in my lap.
The hotel’s nice. Nicer than it needs to be. He checks us in under a fake name. Pays cash. Walks me to the room on the third floor.
“Don’t answer the door for anyone but me,” he says. Standing in the doorway. Not coming in. “Don’t leave. Order room service if you need food. Keep your phone on.”
“Where are you going?”
“To think.” He won’t quite look at me. “And to figure out what the fuck I’m walking into tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I’m going to see them. Dario and Enzo.” His jaw tightens. “I need to know what the situation is with the family. If you’re actually safe here or if we need to relocate you again.”
My heart does something painful. “You’re going to see them.”
“I’m doing my job.” His voice is flat. “Making sure my witness is secure. That’s all this is.”
But we both know that’s not all it is.
“Saul.”
“Get some sleep if you can.” He’s already backing away. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Please don’t go. Not like this.”
He stops. Looks at me. And for a second I see everything he’s feeling. The love he’s trying to protect by building walls.
“I have to,” he says quietly. “Because if I stay right now, I’m going to say things I’ll regret. And you deserve better than that.”
He leaves. The door closes. And I’m alone in a hotel room with a bag full of clothes and a heart full of guilt.
I don’t sleep.
I lie in a generic hotel bed staring at a generic hotel ceiling and trying to figure out how I managed to fuck up everything.
Saul’s out there somewhere. Processing. Hurting. Deciding if I’m worth the complication.
And tomorrow he’s going to walk into Dario’s world and I have no idea what’s going to happen.
My phone sits on the nightstand. Silent.
I check it approximately four thousand times anyway.
Nothing.
I count ceiling tiles. Seventeen. Then carpet patterns. Then the ways I’ve fucked up my life in the past six months.
That list is longer. Significantly.
The hotel room smells like industrial cleaner and other people’s bad decisions. Fitting. I’m currently marinating in my own.
I could order room service. Build a little nest of sadness with overpriced club sandwiches and mini bottles of vodka.
Instead I just lie here. Holding Dario’s pen. Wearing Enzo’s shirt. Wrapped in Saul’s blanket.
An emotional crime scene.
The chocolates are on the nightstand. I ate three. Then felt guilty. Then ate two more out of spite.
Spite toward who? Unclear. Possibly myself.
By morning I’m a zombie. Hollow. Running on anxiety and the kind of exhaustion that makes you feel like you’re floating.
There’s a knock on the door at 8 AM.
“It’s me,” Saul’s voice. Muffled through the door.
I open it.
He looks like hell. Dark circles under his eyes. Hair doing chaotic things. The same clothes from yesterday like he never checked into a room himself.
“Can I come in?”
I step back. Let him enter.
We stand in the hotel room staring at each other.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says finally. “All night. About you. About them. About what I can actually live with.”
I wait. Can’t speak. Can barely breathe.
“I can’t lose you.” His voice is steady now. Like he’s made peace with something. “And I can’t walk away and pretend this isn’t happening. So I’m going to see them. Today.”
“To find out about Sal.”
“To find out about Sal,” he confirms. “To assess the threat level.” He pauses. “And to find out what they want. What this means. If they’re trying to get you back or if this was just... closure.”
“And then?”
“And then I’ll know what I’m dealing with.” He still won’t look at me. “If you’re safe. If they’re a problem. If...”
“If what?”
“If there’s any version of this where I don’t lose you.
” His voice cracks slightly. “Because I spent all night trying to figure out if I can walk away from you. And I can’t.
But I also can’t keep pretending I’m okay with you being in love with two other men.
So I need to know what they want. What you want. What’s actually possible here.”
My throat tightens. “What if they want me back?”
“Then we’ll deal with that.” He finally meets my eyes. “But at least I’ll know. At least you’ll know. And we can make decisions based on reality instead of just...” He gestures helplessly. “Whatever this is.”
“When are you going?”
“Soon as I leave here.” He’s already moving toward the door. “I’ve got their location. Dario will be at his home or restaurant. I’ll start there.”
“Saul.”
He stops. Turns.
“Be careful.”
Something flickers across his face. Almost a smile. “I’m always careful.” He pauses. “Stay here. I’ll call you when I know something.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know. Could be hours. Could be all day.” He opens the door. “Just wait for me. Please.”
And then he’s gone.
And I’m alone in a hotel room with scattered thoughts and the terrifying possibility that everything is about to change.
Also a minibar I’m not supposed to touch and a Bible in the nightstand drawer that definitely didn’t sign up for whatever emotional reckoning I’m about to have.
I could pray. Seems like the moment for it.
Dear God, Please let the men I love not murder each other. Also, is polyamory a sin? Asking for a friend. The friend is me. I’m the friend.
I don’t pray. I eat another chocolate instead.
Dark chocolate. Slightly squashed from when it fell.
I eat it anyway.
It tastes like memory. Like hope. Like the beginning of something impossible and beautiful and terrifying.
Today, Saul will talk to them. Today, I’ll find out if the men I love can coexist. Today, everything might change.
But right now, I pull on Enzo’s shirt and wrap Dario’s tie around my wrist like a bracelet and pull Saul’s blanket over me.
Surrounded by pieces of all of them. Looking like a craft project titled ‘Emotional Hoarding: A Memoir.’ Waiting to find out if I get to keep them.
Or if wanting too much means losing everything.