“You’re right. This is my fault.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Justin raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Can we talk inside?”
For a moment, he thought Antonio was going to sayno, but Antonio stepped aside and let him in. They stood in the foyer, facing each other, tension pulsing through the room.
“I don’t feelthat wayabout you.” Bile rose in Justin’s throat at the taste of the words. “That doesn’t mean I want you out of my life. I need you.”
Antonio winced. “Please don’t say that. Not that way. I can’t. I’m sorry. Maybe someday in the future, I can reconcile the ridiculous fantasy I built in my head with reality, but right now I’m trying, and I can’t find that point. That’s probably not fair to you, because you’re right—I can’t force you to feel something you don’t. But the same goes for me. I can’t turn it off, and now that it’s out there, I don’t know how to put the feeling away again. I need to get away. Not because you don’t feel the same way about me, but because you threw everything away. It’s a careless disregard and it involved both of us, and I can’t let you do that to me again That’s not friendship, it’s selfish. I need to get away.”
Justin had been selfish. He saw that now, but he didn’t know how to make it right.I need to get away.It could be a casual statement. The equivalent ofgive me some time. The rawness clawing at Justin’s throat didn’t let him believe it was so simple. “You’re being literal.”
“I am. I’m going back to Italy. I made arrangements this morning.”
“No. You can’t.” Panic welled inside Justin. He didn’t like this feeling at all. “You have to stay. I can... I don’t know. Learn to make us work?”
Antonio stared at him, disbelief and hurt in his eyes. “Make what work? A love you don’t want? Out of pity? Desperation? No thank you. I’d never want such a thing. I can’t believe you think that’s a viable alternative.”
“I don’t know what else to say.” Justin wasn’t used to being at a loss.
“You’ve said enough.”
* * * *
EMILY SAT IN HER CARin the coffee shop parking lot, staring at theNew Voicemailbar on her phone. The message was from Cynthia, and Emily didn’t know if she wanted to listen or not. She needed to make a decision soon, because she was supposed to meet Antonio inside. He called her last night, confirmed the news about him being laid off, and said he wanted to talk to her about something but wouldn’t give any hints. He asked if she was free Tuesday morning.
She was. And Tuesday afternoon, and based on her lackluster job search, every moment from now until eternity. How long until this stripped-raw feeling of desperation passed? She deleted the message from Cynthia and headed inside.
Antonio was waiting at their table, a drink in front of him and a second in front of the empty seat across from him. The gesture stripped away a layer of her frustration. He stood as she approached, and swept her into a hug. The gesture had become natural over the past week, and it lifted her spirits another notch.
She wasn’t certain, but it seemed like he held on longer this time. Or that was her, squeezing more than normal, needing this line to stay tethered. He released her, and they sat.
She sipped her coffee. He even got that right. “How are you doing?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Better than I should be. Not as good as I’d like to be.”
“That’s an improvement. Any specific reason, or is this an overall sense of good will?”
He chuckled, and the pleasant sound rolled over and through her. Combined with his smile, it would be a temptation under happier circumstances. “There’s a specific reason. I’m moving home. To Italy.”
“Oh.” The bottom dropped out of her world. Funny—she thought it had disappeared days ago. She and Antonio had barely known each other more than a month, but he was already one of her closest friends, and one of the few friends she had left.
“And I want you to go with me,” he said.
Her bottomless world rolled on its side, and her thoughts jumbled into chaos. “Oh.”
“Rather, I’d like you to think about it. I’ve got a job for you. I’ll have an apartment. I don’t expect any sort of romance, though I wouldn’t rule it out in the future, and you’ve always wanted to see the world.”
The idea was brilliant. It was temptation wrapped in terror. “I don’t know.”
“I didn’t expect you to answer right away.” His sad smile implied he’d hoped.
“I’m not sayingno.” She didn’t think she could if she wanted. The problem was she couldn’t find ayes, either. “How long do I have before you need an answer?”
“I’m leaving at the end of the week. It would be nice to have you by my side, but it’s an open-ended offer. Decide tomorrow or six months from now.”
They talked about anything and everything, staying through the lunch crowd and for hours after the rush-hour crowd cleared up. His offer lingered at the forefront of her thoughts the entire time.
For everyconargument she came up with, aprocountered.