Chapter Twenty-Two
ANTONIO DIDN’T KNOWif he was relieved or simply and overwhelmingly hurt that Justin didn’t try to stop him from leaving. It was better this way. Now he knew Justin didn’t feel the same, and this way, he avoided any attempts to gloss it over or pretend their universe hadn’t imploded.
Antonio called for an Uber. He said maybe five words to the driver on the ride home. Once he got inside, he sank onto the sofa and stared at the wall. He couldn’t find the energy to turn on the T.V. or stereo. Deciding what to do meant using his brain, and if he did that, he’d have to think about things.
Like his family.
And Justin.
And how his heart felt like it had been pushed through a sausage grinder.
He should call the office. Let them know he wouldn’t be back in that afternoon. Then again, did it matter? The thought was fatalistic, but he couldn’t make it go away. He needed to climb out of his own head before he drowned in here. He could call Andrew, but he wasn’t in the mood to be told to man up and make this work. He could call Mercy, but she’d always been more Justin’s friend.
Did he really not have any other close friends in this country?
His phone rang, and he grabbed for it out of instinct and gratitude for the distraction. He wouldn’t answer if it was Justin. Hurt that it wasn’t him rushed back in, but it was tempered with relief at seeing Emily’s name on the screen. “Ciao?” He winced, as the Italian slipped out. He was so out of sorts, he’d reverted to his native tongue.
“Hey.” Emily’s greeting was sad, but it was still a salve on Antonio’s fractured mind. “Are you all right?”
“Did you call to ask me that?”
She gave a light laugh. “No. I’m returning your calls from yesterday, but you sound a little... not all right.”
“I’ve been better. I’ve been worse.” Was that true? He never remembered anything hurting this much. “But I called yesterday because I heard the news and was worried about you. How areyou?”
“Same as you.” Amusement mingled with the strains of sorrow.
This was perfect. He’d much rather spend time with her, maybe even brighten her day, than suffocate in his self-pity. “Are you busy right now? Do you want to have coffee?”
“I can’t take you away from work.” She hesitated on the wordwork.
“You’re not. I promise. Where and how soon can I meet you?” He needed her to choose the spot. Any place Antonio knew would be tainted with memories of Justin.
She chuckled. It was faint, but it was an amazing sound. “I didn’t sayyes.”
“You were going to.”
“I was. There’s a place downtown on Market Street. They make an amazing Spanish latte. If I say half an hour, does that give you enough time?”
“That’s perfect. I’ll see you there.”
It didn’t take Antonio as long to find the place as he expected, and he walked in fifteen minutes early. Emily already sat at a table near the back of the room, laptop out and a mostly empty mug next to her. He crossed the dining area to meet her, and she stood as he got closer. He swept her up in a hug, joy flooding him when she squeezed back tight.
She buried her face in his shoulder. “I didn’t know if you’d be alone.”
He hated how much the statement dug under his skin. “Possibly for a long time. Is that the latte you mentioned?”
She nodded. “My fourth. I should probably switch to something lower octane.” She pulled back, to look him in the eye. “You drop a statement like that and expect I’ll let you gloss over it?”
“I kind of hoped. I’ll be right back.” He squeezed her fingers then made his way to the counter. He ordered her an Italian soda—resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the name—and got a coffee for himself. When he returned to the table, he set her drink in front of her and made himself comfortable in the other chair.
She fiddled with her straw. “I’m guessing I shouldn’t ask how your morning went.”
“If I tell you clusterfuck meets Hellraiser, does that give you an idea?”