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Rory’s eyes draw shut, and he drifts his head to the headrest. When his eyes open again, he smiles weakly.
“Does he love you more than I do?”
“That would be impossible to know, wouldn’t it?”
“No, it wouldn’t—” Rory takes me by surprise, holding my head in place so he can kiss me. His lips are tender at first, pressed against mine gently, until his tongue coaxes my lips open. He conquers my mouth hungrily for a few seconds, and I push him away, even though it’s the last thing I want to do.
“I’m sorry,” says Rory. “I believe that you love him. But I don’t believe you don’t have feelings for me too. If you weren’t sick, and it wouldn’t put you through hell, I’d fight for you. I’d do everything to make you see that my love is greater. But I don’t want to put you through yet another emotional wringer.”
“Thank you for respecting my wishes.”
“I will. For now. But Valentina, once you beat this thing, all bets are off.”
My eyes widen with panic. “What?”
“Go ahead and be with him now. Let him be your emotional support and caretaker until you get better—because you will get better, whether you believe it or not—and when it’s all said and done, I’ll be here. I’ll be loving you. No amount of time will change that.”
I turn from him, not able to look him in the eye after all those lies. I open the car door and call Chema over. Chema is at my side in an instant, and he ducks to get me out of the car. I’m only on my feet for a moment before he takes me in his arms like a child. I rest my head on his chest, as tired as I’ve ever felt.
“You okay?” Chema asks.
I nod. “I will be.”
Another car door opens and shuts. “Chema!” Rory calls when we are almost at the door. Chema turns, so we both face Rory.
“Take care of her for me, okay?”
Chema nods and squeezes me a bit in his arms. “Always have. Always will.”
Rory nods and gets back in his car.
Chema setsme down on the bed, and I curl around my pillow, letting the sob out. “What happened?” Chema asks.
“We broke it off,” I admit, the words like hot daggers searing my throat.
“Why? It looked like things were going so well.” The bed shifts as Chema sits next to me. I stay facing away from him because I don’t want him to see me cry.
“He said he loves me.”
“And that’s why you broke it off?”
“No, I, I—”
“Do you love him?”
I nod and keep sobbing into my pillow. Even the energy required for a good cry exhausts me. Chema’s beefy hand wraps around my shoulder, and I put my hand over his.
“Then tell him that.”
“No,” I cry. “He can’t know I love him.”
“Why?”
“Look at me, Chema.”
“I’m looking.”
“How could you possibly think a man like that could be with someone like this?” I hiss out the question.
