My mind is racing, but I’m immobilized by panic.
Dante comes out of the bathroom, still stark naked, and spreads his hands at me. “What are you still doing here?”
I look at him, but I don’t see him past the veil of tears in my eyes. Sliding out of bed, I spot my ruined dress in a heap on the floor. I’m not sure how much of it is even intact, so I just wrap the sheet around myself with as much dignity as I can muster.
Tears rolling down my cheeks, I quietly let myself out.
9
Frankie
My father will killme if he finds out that I invalidated the terms of his debt settlement with the Bellantis. Or maybe he’ll just turn Livvie directly over to Dante, or go on yet another bender so he can gamble away every remaining cent we have left. Knowing my father—and unfortunately, I really do—he’d probably do all three.
Which is why I’m going to spend the night at Charlie’s place. I’ll try to figure out what to do from there. Returning to my dad’s house would be the stupidest thing I could do. I’ll have to act like everything is fine for as long as possible. Dad’ll get tipped off at some point, but hopefully by then I’ll have a plan in place.
In the guesthouse, my suitcase lays open on the bed, waiting to be filled. I feel paralyzed as I stare at the closet full of clothes that I don’t even want. I can’t believe I thought my life couldn’t get any smaller…because here it is, shrinking yet again.
Ignoring all the clothes paid for with Dante’s money, I dig out a box in the corner of the closet that holds what remains of my original wardrobe. It isn’t much, but it’s mine, and after I change into an old pair of jeans and a college T-shirt, I dump the rest of the contents into my suitcase. After a moment’s hesitation, I decide to take the marabou-trimmed lavender robe too.
I toss in my toiletries, then zip up the half-full bag and head into the living room. Grabbing my purse off the couch, I dig out the keys to the Jaguar. I really love that car, but it is essentially Bellanti property and if I’m not going to keep the damn clothes, I have no business keeping the car. It would be crass, wouldn’t it? I jingle the keys in my palm, feeling their bittersweet weight in my hand before I set them on the coffee table and turn away.
At the threshold of the front door, I stop and look down at my rings. I twist them off, my heart breaking, and then tuck them into a zippered compartment of my purse. I’m not done with Dante yet. Until he demands them back, I’m keeping them.
The phone is all mine, though (thank you, phone insurance), and I use it to dial an Uber to Charlie’s. She said she’d be happy to have me, but I still feel guilty for imposing on her like this. My sister has her own life to live, after all, and I never intended to rely on her as much as I have been. Still, I’m beyond grateful that I have her.
The Uber estimate for the trip is over two hundred dollars, and I curse under my breath. I’m not sure how much money I have to my name at this point. It’s likely that the bank accounts are locked, the credit cards frozen, and I only have access to the very small amount in the personal account I came into the marriage with. It certainly isn’t enough to rent a place, or even pay for a hotel for a few days. If it wasn’t for Charlie, I don’t know what I’d do. But I don’t have a choice. I need to get out of here.
The Uber app lets me know my driver is thirty minutes away—fuck. I don’t want to stay in this guesthouse for one more second. I’ll just start walking to the vineyard’s front gate. Anything to get away from the man who just broke my heart. I run a hand through my hair and secure my bag over my shoulder, then hoist my suitcase and step out into the sunlight.
As I make my way over the gravel drive, I start to wish I’d taken a hot shower first. I can still feel Dante on my skin, still smell his cologne on me. Dammit. That’ll be the first thing I do when I get to Charlie’s. Take a scalding hot shower, then maybe have a shot of whiskey and a cup of herbal tea. Then bed. I can’t wait for this day to be over.
Halfway to the gate, I hear a car coming up behind me, engine purring, gravel crunching under its tires. Please, God, don’t let it be Dante. I keep my head high, my eyes forward, refusing to turn around—but when the car pulls up along my left side, passenger side window rolled down, I see it’s not Dante at all. It’s Armani.
“Where are you headed, Frankie?” he asks gently.
“I have an Uber coming.”
It’s a noncommittal answer. I’m not sure how much Armani knows, but I’m exhausted and humiliated and upset—I don’t want to say more. I keep walking.
“Wait,” Armani says. I stop. “Can I give you a ride? It’s the least I can do, after my brother’s been such a prick. Please. I want to help.”
The kindness in his tone touches a nerve. I feel my resolve sinking. Especially considering the fact that I can’t really afford the Uber anyway.
“Okay,” I concede with a nod. “Thank you. I was on my way to Charlie’s.”
“You’re welcome. Your sister lives in San Francisco, correct? Nob Hill?”
I nod again. “If it’s too far, I can—”
“Not too far at all,” he says, putting the car in park.
He gets out and takes my bags, putting them in the back seat. Then he holds the passenger door open for me before getting back behind the wheel.
“I just need the address for my GPS,” he says.
I recite it for him as I put my seat belt on, then cancel my Uber.
The car is brand new, the leather seats comfortable and warm. I feel myself begin to relax for the first time in hours. The trip from Napa to San Francisco will probably take about ninety minutes, but I get a soothing vibe from Armani which I know will help my nerves on the drive. He’s as calming as Dante is terrifying.
