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I don’t know how Dad does these things, and I don’t want to know. Ethan mutes the TV and sits back, disappointment so obvious on his face, but I don’t have the energy to yell at him again. I wish I could give him everything he wants, but I can't live with being the one who gives him the last reason to leave me.
“That’s it, then.” He looks at me probingly. “Is that it?”
“I think so.”
Gray shows up about fifteen minutes later. “Victor, you and your father are giving a press statement in an hour and a half, endorsing the results of the investigation and encouraging your fans to move on.” He hands me a script. “Memorize this, quickly.” His eyes shift to Ethan. “You’re staying here.”
“Wait, what? No.” Ethan sits up. I can’t get enough of those flashes of protectiveness, even when they drive me insane.
Gray points at him, pinning him in place with the gesture. “You are no longer a part of this situation, starting tomorrow. No drawing attention to yourself.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say soothingly, avoiding his eyes. What’s another lie when you’re already drowning in them?
Ethan
When Victor leaves to memorize his script, I’m left alone in the hotel room with a pile of packed bags, an ache in my stomach, and a phone number burning a hole in my pocket. Unable to stop myself, I pull my phone out and text Nicola.You saw the news this morning? Does that mean you guys are finished?
I get up to pass time until she answers, but my phone buzzes before I’ve taken two steps.
No. There’s something weird going on.
I knew it. I’ve always known it—that creeping feeling when I look at him, all his neuroses, the way he refuses to tell me anything about his past. The thought that I could finallyunderstandstarts eclipsing any guilt I should be feeling.
What do you mean?
This time there’s a longer pause.How deep down the rabbit hole do you want to go?
I’m staring at the question, trying to figure out the answer for myself, when she sends another message.You could help us get some answers.
How?
Can you get into his father’s office?
I groan and get up, pacing around the room, listening to the creak of the old floors and trying to stretch out the muscles Victor and I screwed up last night. This isn’t curiosity or well-intentioned information gathering. It would be a betrayal.
I feel like I can’t decide without looking at him one more time, giving him one more chance to do the right thing. At least that way I’ll be able to ignore the guilt.
Let me think about it.
The chef working in the kitchen smiles at me and pushes a bowl of discarded bread crusts across the worktop.
“Grazie.” That simple gesture of kindness feels overwhelming, making me think of home and all the people I miss.
Victor and Rio are sprawled against the side of the building. He’s reading his script out loud to the dog. His eyes flick to me, but he pretends not to see me.
“Would you like a study partner that speaks English?”
“No.”
“Ok.” I sit down next to him and start tossing bits of bread to the excited puppy. He hops around on stumpy legs, chasing each crust I throw for him. It’s sunny back here today, sleepy and warm.
Like we’re a pair of magnets, impossible to resist, Victor slowly slides down the wall as he reads until he’s leaning against my side. “‘I’ve made peace with my past and dedicated myself to a meaningful future,’” he mumbles.
“Wow.”
“I know.”
He pulls out a cigarette and lights it, and today I don’t have the heart to scold him.
