She couldn’t tell Dario and Megan about the money she’d lost, though, because they’d offer to replace it, not realizing that it wasn’t the money that mattered so much as the fact she’d earned it herself.
“And when will you be ready?” Dario asked. “How much longer do you intend to punish your sister this way?”
“I’m not trying to punish Megan,” she said, the weariness starting to weigh her down. Dario was someone she had always wanted to impress, because he had been the one to save Megan when she had failed. “This isn’t about her. It’s about me.”
“Yes, I understand, it is always about you,” Dario replied, the sharp tone unlike him. Dario rarely if ever showed his frustration.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said. “And I’m really sorry I contacted you with this. I shouldn’t have done that, I should have—”
“No, Katie, don’t say this. We are glad you contacted us,” he said, but she could hear the weary sigh down the phone line—and felt like even more of a fraud.
Dario was always so certain. So successful. And so was Megan. They knew what they wanted and had set out to get it together. They’d had a few wobbles along the way. But they’d worked through them and succeeded and built an incredible life for themselves.
But what they had never understood was that she wasn’t like them. She had none of Megan’s steadiness or certainty and none of Dario’s drive or ambition. And she simply wasn’t cut out for long-term relationships. Heck, she’d never even gotten to third base with any of the guys she’d dated over the years—the fear of being subsumed, having her own personality swallowed up by someone else’s, always so much greater than the lure of sexual intimacy.
That she was still a virgin at twenty-four years old spoke for itself. She didn’t consider it a choice or a flaw, so much as an essential means of survival. She had to find herself first, really get to know who she was and what she wanted, before she could consider risking that fragile identity by blending it with another.
And, if she ever did find the right guy, it would never be a guy like Dario. As much as she loved him as a brother, marrying someone like him, falling in love with someone like him, would be an unmitigated disaster.
The way Megan and Dario looked at each other sometimes when they thought no one was watching, the way they touched each other—all those small, insignificant, secret touches that demonstrated not just their off-the-charts sexual chemistry but also how much they loved and respected each other—had always scared Katie. How could anyone trust another person that much? Enough to rely on them absolutely?
She couldn’t do that—she knew she couldn’t. But living so close to Megan and her family, watching Dario and Megan with their two adorable kids, Izzy and Arturo, had become a double-edged sword.
She loved being part of a solid, secure unit that wasn’t just her and her sister anymore. But, on the other hand, seeing how happy, how complete, Megan, Dario and their kids were together made her feel like an intruder. The dark cloud on their bright horizon who could contribute nothing to the whole but could only take.
The tabloid stories of her dancing on tables, or getting arrested during a midnight swim in Central Park Lake, or losing her modeling contract because she had famously decided to chop all her hair off on a whim had hurt Megan and Dario and the kids as much as they’d hurt her.
Which was exactly why she’d jumped ship and headed to Europe where her celebrity profile was non-existent. The anonymity had been glorious. But, more than that, having to survive on her own had been liberating in ways she couldn’t even have imagined.
She’d learned some important stuff about herself. Not least of which was that she could enjoy life, do adventurous, exciting stuff, without being reckless or stupid. Or dragging her family through the mud.
She’d discovered that after four and a half years of screw-ups and embarrassing tabloid headlines, after four and a half years of citations and fines as a result of a string of dumb stunts and thoughtless acts, and after four and a half years of failing to make anything like a decent living she could break that cycle. She could live on her own terms without compromising the happiness of others.
But New Improved Katie was still a work in progress. And today she was at a crossroads, her fledging independence being tested thanks to Pinky and Perky. But this time she couldn’t take the easy road.
Getting Dario to understand why she didn’t want his help was going to be an uphill battle, though. Not one she needed right now when she felt as if she were about to dissolve into Caine’s upholstery.
“I am glad you contacted us,” Dario reiterated. “But you must understand now that you are safer here, with your family, than wandering around Europe on your own,” he continued, the no-nonsense tone one she was sure he used on his employees. “You must fly home tonight. And we will figure this out together.”
But it’s not your problem, it’s mine, she wanted to scream. But the words were locked in her throat, trapped behind the boulder of guilt. How could she make Megan and him see that their love was stifling her ability to solve her own problems and not empowering her without hurting them even more?
“Dario, that’s not going to happen, man,” Caine’s gruff voice sliced through Katie’s anxiety. “She can’t fly anywhere for a while.”
Katie blinked, surprised not just by Caine’s intervention but that he seemed to be on her side. A strange warmth spread through her to add to the inappropriate hum. Of course she didn’t need his help, but she was exhausted enough to appreciate it, especially from someone who had always batted for Team Dario.
“Why not?” Dario asked, sounding frustrated.
“Because the muggers stole her passport.”
The realization that Caine’s defection was about pragmatism, rather than a newfound respect for her, dampened Katie’s warm glow a little.
She shook off the prickle of disappointment. She didn’t care what Caine’s motives were, he’d just provided her with the perfect get-out clause—which if she hadn’t been so exhausted she would have figured out herself.
“That’s true, Dario,” she chipped in. “I’m stuck here until I can get a new one.” And replace everything else she’d lost, which would take her a month at least. Possibly more.
“Can you organize a new passport, Jared?” Dario said, as if she hadn’t spoken.
“Sure.”