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Thoughts flood my head. I can barely wrap my head around everything Matteo revealed to me, let alone decide if I should leave. Any thought about leaving is instantly replaced by ones of Santiago and how he kept the truth from me. How can I trust someone who pretended in front of my face that he didn’t know who Matteo really was?
Brooke sighs. “What are you going to do?”
“Pour wine into a baby bottle and cry myself to sleep?”
“And?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had enough time to think up a plan. You’re the first person I talked to after my life went from Disney Channel Original Movie to Chernobyl Diaries.”
She snorts. “Chernobyl Diaries was a terrible movie.”
“My point exactly.”
“Do you want to FaceTime?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
“Grab your favorite wine and your laptop. Let’s have ourselves a date night.”
My throat tightens. “Brooke?”
“Hmm?”
“I appreciate you. Just so you know.”
“Gross. Save the touchy-feely shit for the nine-inch dick you’ve fallen in love with.”
“People don’t fall in love with dicks.” I let out my first laugh of the night despite the clenching sensation in my chest at her words. Brooke always has this way of erasing my pain, even if it’s for a few hours.
“The person or the appendage? Because I have an argument for both.”
My laugh turns into a full-blown fit of giggles.
Slowly the ache in my chest lessens at the thought of Santiago deceiving me. Of course, I understand he didn’t lie outright, but withholding the truth is still considered deception nonetheless.
But why don’t I feel as angry or upset about Matteo doing the same exact thing? Is it because I’m too desperate for a connection with a father figure to care? Or is it because I willingly gave Santiago the opportunity to break down every single barrier left around my heart before he broke it?
God, I hate this back-and-forth argument going on inside of my head. No one warned me about what happens after two people fall in love. How once the credits roll, the rainbow disappears and the world is thrust back into the reality of rainstorms and ugly days.
But to be honest, what did I expect? I’m the one who fell in love with someone who built a relationship while deceiving others. There’s no one I should be angry at besides myself. I’m basically the idiot piglet from the “Three Little Pigs” who thought life was good in a house made of straw before the big, bad wolf blew the house down and proved me wrong.
Angry at myself more than Santiago, I rip the covers off my body and climb out of bed to gather my video chat supplies. I skip grabbing a glass and pick a bottle of wine, shutting myself off from any kind of Santiago or Matteo-related thoughts.
And together, I get drunk with my best friend while saving my pain for another day.
45
Santiago
I’ve never experienced a walk of shame quite like the one to a local hotel. I keep my head down, avoiding residents who might recognize me.
Leaving Chloe at my house alone was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in a while, and I’ve done a lot of difficult things lately. Knowing she was hurt because of my actions made the task nearly impossible. But she deserves my respect, and that starts with giving her space to calm down. I don’t blame her for feeling angry and needing room to process her life. She only found out her father is dead a few hours ago.
And rather than leaning on you for help like she should be able to, you fucked everything up. Good going, asshole.
I hate myself a bit more knowing she’s alone, probably crying herself to sleep tonight about everything.
The hotel employee gives me a key to my room on the first floor. I enter the small space and let out a sigh, throwing my bag in the corner. Not bothering with the bedside lamp, I settle into the bed.
