28. Dante
DANTE
No matter how much I drink, I can’t seem to forget. The world goes blurry around the edges, my speech slow and thick, but I can still remember Samantha’s amber-brown eyes. The way she looked at me. Like I might have hit her.
My knuckles are bruised and bloodied as I clench my fist around my glass. The bartender gives me a sideways glance. “Bad night?”
I snort. “You could say that.”
“You do something you shouldn’t?”
“Something like that.”
He ticks his head at my nearly-empty glass. “That won’t keep you from making bad decisions, you know.”
“Might.”
The only bad decision it’s making me want to make is knocking on Samantha’s bedroom door, begging her on my knees to come back.
All the fight has gone out of me. I think about braving the twenty minute drive back to my own apartment, but in my current state I’ll end up wrapping myself around a tree.
I have a fleeting thought that maybe that might be best for everyone.
Instead, I call a cab. It takes them nearly half an hour to get there and I’m heaving into the bushes. Nothing’s coming up. I haven’t ingested anything but ginger ale and scotch since breakfast. The cab driver raises an eyebrow. “It’s an extra hundred if you barf in here, big boy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, and he takes off. My stomach rolls but doesn’t completely revolt on the drive back to Elio’s mansion. The place that I’d once called home doesn’t feel like it anymore.
It feels like my own personal hell.
I fumble with the gate code but finally get it in, and the taxi pulls me up to the door. I slide him two hundred bucks.
“This is way too much, you didn’t—”
“Just keep it.”
He grins, tips his hat at me. “You made my night, big guy. Get in safe.”
I nod slowly, and it makes the world tilt on its axis. I make my way inside, barely, managing to brace myself on the open front door. I look up and Elio’s sitting there in the dark like a disappointed dad.
It’s nearly daylight. He’s stayed up all night.
“Not answering your phone anymore?”
I chug out a laugh. “Am I in past curfew, Dad?”
“Don’t be an asshole.”
The look on his face sobers me slightly. “Fuck. I’m sorry. You can punish me however you see fit. I misunderstood the situation and—”
“You thought he was hurting her.”
I don’t protest, even though that’s not exactly right. I can tell myself all day it’s because she was crying, because he wouldn’t tell me why. But I know it’s because of the comfortable way he touches her. How he’s better for her in every way.
Except he doesn’t love her like I do.
Nobody can.
“Look, Dante, you’ve got to get it together. Have to get over that girl of yours.”
“Don’t I know it.” I slowly shut the front door, plopping down across from him on the couch. He leans back in the recliner.
“It’s not like you, drinking like this. Fighting.”
“I know.”
“Why don’t you go on a double date with me and Olivia?”
I blink at him. “A double date? I thought she wasn’t answering you.”
He gives me a half-grin. “Got a little drunk at the party. Called her. We’re back on.”
“Good for you.” It comes out in a half-slurred mumble, but I mean it. I want Elio to be happy. Even if I can’t be.
“She has a friend named Cecilia. Curvy. Just your type.”
I swallow hard. Try to think it through, but my head’s still spinning. “Alright,” I say finally, drunk and defeated.
What does it matter, who I bed? They’ll never measure up to Samantha, to what I feel for her. So why not entertain this? Distract myself?
“You’re serious? You’ll do it?” he asks incredulously, excitement evident in his voice.
I nod slowly, my stomach rolling. “Just tell me when and where.”
“Tomorrow,” he says eagerly and I inwardly groan.
“Hope it’s late,” I rasp.
Elio laughs. “I’ll make sure it is. I’ll call her after I get a few hours of sleep. You’ll have a blast, I swear. We’ve scheduled this escape room.”
“Escape room?”
“Yeah, you have to work together and find clues so you can get out. Isn’t that cute?”
“Adorable,” I say flatly, heaving myself up and making my way up the stairs. I don’t care where we go for the double date. I glance at Samantha’s door as I walk by. It’s dark.
I fall into a blissfully dreamless sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
After waking up viciously hungover, I shower and shave, hoping to make it down for breakfast before Maria cleans it up. I do make it, but Elio’s still downstairs, eating. He looks a little pale.
“Don’t tell me you’re hungover from champagne.”
He looks up at me. Shakes his head. “No. I just… I need to tell Samantha about Olivia.”
“You’ve already decided?”
He nods slowly. “After last night I realized… you’re right. I’m not taking my own advice. So I’ve got to tell her. I’m just not sure how.”
I grab a plate and eat like I’ve been starving for weeks. I kind of have. I haven’t been eating as much as I’ve been working out. Burning too many calories.
Samantha comes downstairs, padding barefoot into the dining room, and I freeze mid-chew. She doesn’t even look at me. She’s barefaced, in her worn kitten pajamas, her hair mussed. My favorite type of Samantha.
“Good morning, Papa,” she says, pointedly ignoring me.
“Good morning, cara mia. How’s your friend?”
“He’s good. He’ll be there a couple more days. I’ll visit tomorrow.” She’s not saying the whole truth. There’s something strained in her voice, but I’m not sure what she could be lying about.
It doesn’t matter. It’s not really my business.
I look up from my plate and meet Samantha’s eyes. She looks back. She doesn’t look angry. There’s nothing in her amber-brown eyes, and it makes my stomach twist.
I look away first.
“How was the party?” Elio asks.
“It was fun. Danced with Ethan Moretti.”
I try not to stiffen at the name.
“I saw. Did you like him?”
Samantha’s quiet for a moment. “I did, actually.”
The words fall on me like a hammer. Because she’s not pointedly glaring at me. Not looking at me at all. She’s not saying it to hurt me. She’s not doing this to get back at me.
She’s just… moving on.
My chest feels hollow.
“Maybe you should call him. I’ve got his number.”
“I’ll get it from you later.”
I try desperately to swallow down bacon that’s gotten caught in my throat. I drink half a cup of orange juice and it helps.
Samantha kisses her father’s temple, grabbing a plate and filling it with just bacon before taking it up to her room. Elio lets out a long breath. “I should have told her then. She was in a good mood.”
“You can tell her anytime, Elio. She’s not a child.”
“I haven’t been with anyone since Grace, not long-term.”
“I know. But she knows that eventually, you have to move on.”
“Part of me doesn’t want to,” Elio says, voice shaking slightly.
I raise an eyebrow. “Elio–”
“I know Olivia won’t replace her. I don’t want her to replace Grace. I just… I want to be happy again. I want to look forward to things again. Have someone to come home to.” Elio looks at me almost desperately. “Do you know what I mean?”
“Of course I do. You big sap.”
Elio laughs at that. “I guess I am.”
“You always were.”
“You’re really coming with me tonight?”
“I am.”
“Does your girl know?”
“Not yet.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
I think about it. “I don’t think she’ll care.”
“She’s what, moving on? Found someone else?”
“Maybe.”
Elio whistles out a sigh. “That’s rough, man. Did I ever tell you that Grace had a boyfriend when I met her?”
“A boyfriend? No.”
“She was dating Luciano Ricci.”
My eyes widen. “No shit. I always knew he had a thing for her, but not that they actually dated.”
“They did. For nearly a year. I met her right before their anniversary. It took her weeks to end it with him. Drove me crazy.”
“Yeah?”
“Fucking A, yeah. I spent a lot of time drunk in those weeks. Didn’t help matters.”
“Did you do something stupid?”
He snorts. “Define stupid. I begged her to leave him. To choose me instead.”
“And it worked.”
He grins. “Eventually.”
I don’t think it’d do me any good to beg. Even if I got down on my knees, I fear that Samantha would just look at me with those empty brown eyes. “This is different,” I say, and Elio hums. He doesn’t protest. Maybe he’s as tired of hashing this out as I am of feeling it.
I’m not looking forward to this double date.
But maybe it’s just what I need.