“Heeeey, it’s Summer.” Pete picks me up and squeezes me. He’s definitely already drunk.
Oh, fuck.
It’s all well and good to make John jealous, but Carlo is another story. Carlo is possessive as hell. All alpha male. Dangerous when provoked.
I steal a glance at him and see him sending a death glare in Pete’s direction. He doesn’t know this is Maggie’s boyfriend. That it’s harmless. He doesn’t know this crowd at all.
I wriggle out of Pete’s drunken hold. “Happy birthday, champ.” I give him a friendly thump on the shoulder and step back.
I’m included in several simultaneous conversations, and I completely forget about Carlo until he shoulders his way through and hands me a plastic cup of wine.
I slip my hand into his. “Thank you.” I beam up at him. This is how a boyfriend should be. Attentive. Protective.
Possessive.
I love feeling like I’m the center of Carlo’s universe. So different from John, who thinks the world revolves around him.
I glance over at where John’s sitting on the couch.
He’s glancing my way.
Good.
I reach up and pull Carlo’s face to mine for a showy kiss. If I were smart, I would pay attention to the way his brows come down when we pull apart, but instead, I’m looking back over to see John’s reaction.
It’s a good one. He looks like he wants to kick something, for sure.
Ha. Serves him right. Carlo is a real man. He was a child.
“Summer!” a friend calls from across the room, and I cross the room, Carlo in tow.
I make the rounds for a while. When John comes into the room, I wrap my arms around Carlo’s middle and mold my body against his. He holds the back of my neck possessively. Intimately.
I love the way John abruptly turns and walks back out of the room.
Carlo unwinds his arms from me and leans in to say, “Hey, I’m going to go.”
“What?” I blink. He wouldn’t leave without me, would he?
“Why don’t you stay at your place tonight since you’re right here anyway?”
Only then does it occur to me that I messed up. “Oh.” I look up in confusion, a little too tipsy to understand yet what happened. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah.” He kisses me on the cheek. Not the lips. “I’ll see you later.”
“No, wait, I’ll come.”
“No.” His expression is inscrutable, but I recognize the finality in it.
My skin prickles with warning. “Are you mad? Was it about Pete picking me up? Because he’s Maggie’s boyfriend. It was harmless.”
“No, doll. I’m going to go. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“No, Carlo—” I grab his arm. When I realize I’ve called attention to us, I release it.
He turns and walks away.
Grabbing my purse, I follow him out the door. “Carlo, hang on!”
He stops in the hallway, his face still unreadable.
“I’m coming with you.” I catch up to him, but he doesn’t move to escort me out.
He faces me and rubs his forehead. “Bambina, I can’t do this.”
“What?” My voice pitches up as the panic bleeds into my soul. What’s he saying? My heart pounds in my ears.
“I don’t think it’s going to work out for us. The timing’s bad. You weren’t ready for a new relationship—you just needed a distraction and…” He sighs. “I don’t want to be your sloppy seconds. It was arrogant of me to think I could make you forget about your douchebag ex, but clearly, I can’t.”
My vision blurs. “No, Carlo. I’m sorry. You’re not sloppy seconds.”
He doesn’t look angry. His expression only holds regret. Or even sympathy. Well, yeah. He’s the one breaking up with me.
“It’s not your fault. You can’t change what’s in your heart. It is what it is. Go on, get back to the party—it’s where you belong. I’ll bring the kittens and your things over tomorrow.”
I literally can’t breathe.
And then he turns and walks off. Just like that.
Tears spill down my cheeks. “I don’t belong there.” My voice rises with a sob.
He doesn’t turn around. Isn’t going to rescue me from myself this time. It’s over.
Turning, I rush back to Maggie’s. I need a friend, and I don’t care anymore what anyone at the party thinks of me. Including John.
Which is too bad because it’s too late for that change of heart.
Carlo
I drive home but don’t go in. Instead, I sit in the parked SUV, staring into the darkness.
I’m fuck-all tired. Or maybe just numb.
I’m not pissed. It’s my own fault for pursuing Summer. She wasn’t ready. I made my move too soon.
I saw that window of opportunity, and I took it, but it was misplayed.
Tragically misplayed.
The heaviness that’s descended on my chest has a familiar weight. The sense of betrayal isn’t there like I had with Mario, but the loss is the same. The disappointment. The ache of loneliness that goes miles deep.
I lean my head back against the headrest and close my eyes. I can’t even face going into my apartment and seeing her things. Hearing the kittens scramble around all night exploring.