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Delphine is a fantasy I’ve latched on to. The fantasy I could be with a good-hearted, beautiful, intelligent woman like any other regular guy. Like I was somehow deserving of that.
In reality, it’s unattainable.
I’ve never understood my draw to her until this moment. She was the woman I couldn’t have. So I wanted her. So I fought to have her.
She was never meant to be mine to begin with.
It’s better this way.
Now I can take out Lucius how I was meant to take him out—I can die like I’ve always known I would. Nothing holding me back. No regrets that I was leaving behind some amazing woman who was mine and wanted to be with me. Nobody giving a fuck what I do or what happens to me.
A long, drawn-out moment of silence stretches on between us. I’m accepting my revelation while she seems to be weighed down by guilt.
“Salvatore...” she says quietly. “I didn’t mean to make it seem you’re... not good enough. I just think... we shouldn’t be together.”
“No, Phi. You’re right. You’re too good for me. I’m fucked up and that’s not changing. It’s who I am. You should be out there with the Chadwicks and Garretts of the world. I’ve been selfish. I’ve refused to let you go. But I’ll do that. For real this time.”
She blinks, her eyes glassy. “I don’t like how you’re shutting down right now. It scares me.”
“You should leave. I’ll replace whatever’s been destroyed. Let Francis know and I’ll arrange a deposit. We can do it offhand so I don’t have to see you.”
“Salvatore...”
“I’ll arrange a hotel for you. Francis will drive you. You can stay there until you find an apartment. I’ll cut the security details. No more of my men watching you. We can both move on. You’ll be free of me.”
I turn away and walk out the room, leaving her in stunned silence. I don’t regret what’s happening. I’m forcing myself to see the big picture. The big picture is, regardless of how I feel about her, Delphine is a distraction.
The same way I’m a distraction for her.
It’s best we both wake from this dream that’s been our time together. She can return to her world. And I’ll return to mine.
30. delphine
I’m alonewhen the ball drops on New Year’s Eve. I’ve checked in at the Northam Plaza and spent the evening in one of the complimentary bathrobes, ordering room service, and guzzling down champagne. By the time midnight strikes, I’m tipsy and forlorn, clutching my refilled glass as I watch the televised celebrations across the city.
Half of Northam is out to ring in the New Year. The local news shows footage of the mammoth-sized crowd gathered in Northam Square and different bars from every part of the city filled with patrons in sparkly party hats searching for someone to kiss at midnight.
“I’m outside the most popular club in the city—and maybe the state—Club Nirvana,” the field reporter says with an excited smile. She gestures to the lines behind her wrapping around the block. “As you can see, eager party-goers can’t wait to be let inside the famous club. Ma’am, how long have you been waiting?”
She holds the microphone up to two college-aged girls shivering in party dresses that are as short as they are tight. They answer in unison, revealing they’ve been waiting over an hour.
“There you have it,” the reporter says. “Nirvana is the place to be on a night like this! Back to you, Jerry. Hopefully you’re a lot warmer in the studio than we are out here.”
I change the channel before the segment can return to Jerry chuckling at the anchor desk. I’m in no mood to see live footage of Club Nirvana... or any of the other happy celebrations happening around the city.
It’s nothing but torture. Usually, I’d at least have Salt and Pepa to keep me company, but Brenda’s watching them until I find somewhere more permanent to live.
I get up from the comfy armchair I’ve parked myself in and pad over to the balcony. My flute of champagne goes where I go. The cool winter wind brushes against me and draws goosebumps onto my skin. I pull the terry-cloth robe tighter and come up to the banister.
The view is spectacular.Romanticeven, if I weren’t alone.
The dark silhouette of skyscrapers offsets the fireworks shimmering in the inky sky. Music plays and people cheer from the streets. Everyone can’t wait for the New Year.
I couldn’t feel more differently. I bring the flute of champagne to my lips as thoughts of the past few months occupy my mind. Many of them thoughts of Salvatore.
Thethirdtime we’ve tried and I’ve wound up with an aching heart. Surveying the metropolis surrounding me, I can’t help wondering where in this big city he is right now.
Is he home at his loft in his compound? Is he spending the night at Nirvana? The bash the club hosts every year goes on until the dawn. I half consider texting him to find out before tamping down on the urge and swilling more champagne.
