Chapter 4
I PARK MY bicycle in the rack behind my house.
Rounding the corner to the front of the building, I see Dante sitting on my front step.
My heart begins to pound furiously when I realize he’s holding a large bouquet of red roses and there’s a box of my favourite heart-shaped chocolates sitting on the ground next to him.
He impatiently taps his Armani slip-ons on the sidewalk, then leaps up as soon as he notices me.
Hannah! he says, sounding relieved. It’s so good to see you. I’ve been waiting here for half an hour.
He pats some dust from his pants and offers me a beaming smile, as if he brought along one of those oversized lottery prize cheques to pair with the flowers and chocolate.
What are you doing here? I ask, my voice dripping with disgust.
His cheery expression fades, but he manages to recover, spreading his arms wide. I’m home again, he replies, stepping toward me as he presents me with the roses.
I’m sorry, what? I recoil at his words and raise my hands defensively.
I legitimately can’t tell if I heard him right.
He’s acting like it’s some kind of gift to have him standing here in front of me again.
And yet my breath grows shallow as I take in the sight of this gorgeous man.
His eyes study my face, exploring every part of my expression to find a weak spot.
In an angry gesture, I flick my scarf a little tighter around my neck.
Han, I’ve been such an idiot, he explains. He drops the arm holding the bouquet loosely down to his body, a pleading look in his eyes. I’m honestly surprised he’s not pouting. I don’t know what got into me, he continues. It was a silly crush. Just a whim.
Ah yes, a silly six-month whim, I snark, staring at him with my eyebrows drawn sky-high.
Dante frowns, then lowers his gaze. Let’s just say I realized she’s not the one.
Dude, I sneer.
He takes a step closer to me. Hannah . . . Another step. Can you forgive me?
I blink a few times. Have I been giving off doormat vibes?
Is that really who he thinks I am? He believes he can toss me aside like an old Furby so he can play with the new remote-control race car that just arrived?
And when the car’s batteries die, he can just fish his old Furby out of the toy box again?
No, I can’t forgive you, I reply, grateful for the steadiness of my voice, since all the emotions rushing through my body have me trembling.
Dante exhales in frustration. Listen, Han, I know I was stupid, but—
I cut him off. I want a real man. And a real man ends one relationship before starting a new one.
Dante swallows a few times before replying.
You stopped having any time for me, Hannah!
He looks outraged. Ever since you got that job with the store, you were constantly working overtime.
What did you expect me to do? I knew that coming home every night would mean sitting on the couch watching Project Runway all by mys—
Don’t you dare, Dante, I snap. Dropping my bag to the sidewalk with a thud, I fire off a furious glare. Don’t you dare try to put your mistakes on me. If you were feeling lonely, you should have talked to me about it. Having an affair should not be on the list of options.
I slowly see it dawn on him that he won’t be able to win me over. His eyes go wide as he swallows hard. But Hannah . . . I love you, he tries.
I shake my head, a look of pity on my face. When you really love someone, you don’t run around plucking other people’s feathers without feeling disgusted with yourself. Cheating is a choice. A choice you made because you obviously didn’t give a crap about our relationship.
I walk up to my front door and stick the key in the lock. Turning around, I notice Dante staring at the ground in defeat. It’s beginning to rain and tiny drops drizzle down onto his blonde hair. Just as I’m about to step inside and slam the door, Dante wedges his foot in.
Wait! he says.
I open the door and give him an inquisitive look.
Do you think I could grab my stuff while I’m here? I’ve worn all the clothes I have left about three times already.
I gulp. Ever since ditching his entire collection in the Salvation Army donation box, I’ve been dreading this moment. I bite my lip. I . . . Um . . . I don’t have your stuff anymore, I mumble, looking everywhere except at his face.
A surprised chuckle escapes from his throat as he speaks. Hannah, I know you’re upset, but you can’t joke around about my clothes.
It’s a good thing I’m not kidding, then, I respond as I watch the colour drain from his face.
Hannah, what did you do? he asks in a menacing tone.
Let’s just say some less fortunate folks in our community won’t be feeling cold this winter.
He blinks a few times as his breath quickens. Hannah, my shoes!
He’s acting as if I just confessed to flambéing a nest of kittens. He clearly hadn’t expected me to donate his precious loafers to charity. The organization now has about five thousand euros worth of pretentious footwear to divvy up. Tears well up in Dante’s eyes.
Dante, my heart! I mock him in a childish voice as it gently dawns on me that he cares more about his shoes than he ever did about me.
Goddammit, Hannah. I can’t believe you would pull a stunt like this. Who knew you were this vindictive?
Yeah, and I never imagined you would skewer a pigeon-of-paradise in a storage closet, but here we are. Sometimes people just don’t live up to your expectations.
If Jasmine hadn’t come up with the idea, the thought probably never would have crossed my mind.
And if I hadn’t finished an entire bottle of wine by myself that evening, I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to follow through.
But the repeating image on my retinas of Dante in the stock room was the catalyst for the incident.
I just couldn’t stand to look at his neatly displayed collection of shoes taking up half of my closet for one more second.
All of it? he asks, his lower lip trembling as he speaks.
Afraid so.
You just casually tossed out thousands worth of clothes, Hannah!
Sorry.
He studies my face through narrowed eyes. I don’t think you really mean that, he finally says, lifting his chin in an attempt to salvage some of his dignity.
Exhaling with a deep sigh, I step back inside. Godspeed, Dante, I whisper.
Just as I’m about to close the door behind me, I change my mind, step back out, and grab the box of chocolates from his hands. Thank you, I say, tapping the box.
Dante looks on, flabbergasted, as I shut the door in his face.