Either that, or he’d just realize I wasn’t good enough for him, plain and simple. And then where would I be? How could I pick up the pieces after something like that?
It was all too much to think about, so I tried to just concentrate on driving.
When I got back into town, I drove down the Strip with its surreal landscape—past a fake Egyptian pyramid and its huge Sphynx, a castle, a pretend New York skyline with its own Statue of Liberty, a mock Eiffel Tower, a pirate ship—all of it as out of place here as I was.
It was so quiet. There were still people gambling inside those giant casinos, unsure if it was night or day, but out here there was almost no one. The only vehicles on the road were a street sweeper, a cab, and me in this giant boat of a convertible. At least the Caddy looked right at home.
When I ran out of casinos, I turned around and started making my way back up the Strip. After a while, I randomly pulled into the driveway for Caesar’s Palace, with its fake coliseum and towering, flashing billboard. But instead of heading to the valet station, I pulled into the labyrinth of underground self-parking, found a space, and cut the engine. Then I climbed into the back seat and curled into a ball.
I felt nauseous, and exhausted, and like I really wanted to cry. I hated this part of myself—the part that got scared so easily and ran like a startled bunny when I thought I might get hurt. I’d worked hard over the years to make myself into a survivor, someone so much tougher than this. But it was all an illusion.
* * *
I ended up falling asleep, waking abruptly when a noisy group of revelers hurried past on their way to the casino. I sat up and scrubbed my palms over my face before taking my phone from my pocket and turning it on. I’d decided to power it down before I left Reno’s house. If he decided to call and yell at me, I really wasn’t up for it.
When the screen lit up, I saw it was almost ten a.m. I also saw I had fifteen calls from the same unknown number starting around nine, and one voice mail. Obviously Adriano had gotten my number from his brother.
Might as well get it over with. I played the voice mail and was surprised by the tenderness in Adriano’s voice. He said, “I don’t know what made you run off, Jack. I also don’t know what time you left or how far you’ve gotten, but please come back. Let’s not wait until we’re both in San Francisco to talk this out. I’ll be at my mom’s bar starting at about ten a.m. She was tired, so I’m doing her lunch set-up for her. Anyway…please just come talk to me. I really care about you, and I need you here with me so we can fix whatever’s wrong.”
That was completely unexpected. I thought he’d be pissed off about his car, and that he’d totally assume I’d stolen it—especially because it had been a few hours, and I hadn’t messaged his brother with instructions on where to find it.
He was such a good person, but I already knew that. It actually made this a lot harder. If he’d yelled at me and gotten upset about the car, it would have been infinitely easier to run away.
With a sigh, I sent a text—not to Adriano, but to my best friend. It said:I’ve totally blown it with that guy I told you about.
Wyatt responded moments later with:How do you think you blew it?
I wrote:I got scared and ran away.
His reply was simply:So, run back.
I told him:I’m still scared, though.
The three dots on my screen bounced for half a minute before I received the next message:So what? Everything’s scary—life, relationships, caring about people. But you’re strong enough to face your fears.
I replied:Am I, though?
His answer surprised me:You’re the strongest and bravest person I know, Jack.
I wrote:Okay but to be fair, you’re kind of a hermit and don’t really know a lot of people.
He sent me an emoji that was rolling its eyes, but then he added:Okay, you’re right. But still, you’re stronger than you realize. Also, you obviously really like this guy, or you wouldn’t be concerned about running away. So, go fix it, and report back.
He made it sound so simple, and maybe it was. Maybe I hadn’t done irreparable damage yet. I wrote:Thanks, Wyatt. I’m going to go talk to him. I’ll let you know what happens. I climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine as a final text popped up. It was a string of clapping hands, cheer emojis, and thumbs up.
I had no idea what I was going to say to Adriano, and as I drove to the bar, no brilliant ideas suddenly presented themselves to me. I ended up parking around back to buy myself some time and checked my reflection in the rearview mirror.
If only I didn’t look so ragged. After I tried finger-combing my hair, I brushed at my wrinkled suit and shirt, which had definitely seen better days by this point. None of this could be helped though, and I needed to quit stalling.
My heart was pounding as I walked around to the front of the building. Adriano’s SUV was the only car in the parking lot. I paused in front of the tall picture window and watched him for a few moments as I took a deep breath.
His back was to me. All the chairs were upside down on the tabletops, and he was mopping the floor. I noted absently that he was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. This was the first time I’d ever seen him out in public in anything besides a nice suit.
Adriano flinched and spun around when I tapped on the glass. Then his expression turned to one of relief. He dropped the mop into the bucket before hurrying to the door and unlocking it for me.
When I stepped inside, he drew me into an embrace. Despite myself, I stiffened up a little, so he let go right away. We stood there awkwardly for a moment, until he said, “Come in. Be careful, the floor’s wet and slippery.”
He locked the door behind me as I wandered into the bar. I felt ridiculous, embarrassed, and guilty for running off the way I had, and I kept my back to him as I whispered, “I’m sorry.”