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“Matteo told me about my dad.” I throw a pair of sneakers with a little extra oomph into my luggage, and they smack against my clothes.
“What do you mean? Look at me.” Santiago presses a tentative hand on my shoulder.
I wince at his touch, and he drops his hand. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. He told me everything, including how you knew for days about my real father and didn’t tell me. If there is one thing I ask of you during this conversation, it’s to not pretend anymore. I think I’ve had enough of your lies to last me a lifetime.” My hoarse voice cracks. I blink back the tears threatening to leak out of my eyes.
I might have cried with Matteo, but I refuse to cry in front of Santiago. He is the last person who deserves my tears, especially when he’s the reason for them in the first place.
“Chloe, please listen to me. I didn’t lie to you.”
I spin on my feet. “To me, withholding the truth is the same thing as lying; it doesn’t matter how you want to validate it in your head. You knew Matteo’s true identity and you said nothing. You let me go about my days like nothing happened. And worse, you let me believe my dad was really alive, and that’s just cruel.”
He recoils. “I didn’t want to. I told him to tell the truth and he didn’t listen. You have to believe me. When you went to his house for the first time, he was supposed to tell you. That was the plan.”
Everything clicks together. “You knew. That’s why you wanted to come with me.”
He nods, becoming visibly uncomfortable as my scowl deepens.
“And that’s why you pounced on me when I got back. And asked me a hundred questions. You knew, even then.”
He lets out a deep breath. “Yes.”
I place a hand on the bed, needing the stability. “And what did you do when yo
u realized he didn’t tell me the truth?”
“I went over there and told him that he had no choice but to tell you the real story. That you have the right to know that your dad passed away. The man wanted to pretend he was your father permanently for fuck’s sake. Without me, who knows what he would’ve done. I was only doing what I thought was the best choice to make sure you heard it from the right person.”
“You should’ve told me the moment you found out. I thought we were close. That we got one another.” My voice breaks, matching the feeling inside of me. Everything hurts as I manage my thoughts.
“Of course we are close. I love you. There’s nothing closer than that.” He takes a step toward me.
I take one back, hitting the nightstand with my butt. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have pretended to my face that Matteo was my dad. I told you stories about him. We laughed about the craziness he shared with me. How did you sit there and act like you didn’t know all this time?”
He throws his hands in the air. “I was trying to protect you! I thought it would be better to hear it from him rather than me.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid to hurt you. I knew it would destroy you to learn about your dad from me.”
“Well, it turns out your choice hurt me a hell of a lot more.”
“Please, just give me a chance to explain my reasoning.”
I shake my head. “No. I can’t do this right now. I need space.”
“You told me you wouldn’t leave me.”
“That was before I found out you could lie straight to my face and not even flinch while doing it. I feel like a fool for trusting you. Do you even know how hard that is for someone like me? Or how painful it is to admit I love someone? But I should’ve expected this. You grew up surrounded by love while I grew up being manipulated by it.”
He starts to speak, but I cut him off. “I can’t stay here anymore.”
“You’re going back to America?” Panic floods his voice.
“No. Not yet. I need to speak to Matteo more and learn about my dad.”
He flinches.
Yeah, asshole, I’m not staying here because of you. “But just because I’m staying doesn’t mean I want to live here after knowing what you did.”
