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A sob works its way out of my throat, too sudden for me to stop it. “But I don’t. I don’t. You don’t know that now, but you will. I was selfish, I let myself have you anyway, but it was always going to lead to this.”
“Are you listening to yourself right now? Why are you hurting both of us for no fucking reason?”
He tries to pull me into his arms, his eyes searching mine, but I shrug away. If I let him give me comfort, I’ll be tempted to give in, and I can’t. I should have listened to myself when I broke things off the first time. I shouldn’t have let him pull me in to begin with. That afternoon in the library, that morning in his bedroom, that starry night at the baseball field—none of it should have happened in the first place. “Don’t.”
Something cracks behind his eyes. “Angel, come on.”
“Marriage, kids, someone who fits in with your life—you deserve that, Sebastian. Go back upstairs to your perfect family.” I wipe away the tears roughly. “It would have led here no matter what. I can’t be your angel.”
He kisses me. I can’t help it; I kiss him back. One last time. One more kiss, fleeting in its flawlessness, setting me ablaze even as I fall into the cold embrace of space. He pulls away slowly, his touch a lingering bruise.
“You’re part of that family,” he whispers.
My heart cracks right down the middle. “You don’t understand.”
“You know I don’t give a shit about how my life looks as long as I have you, right?” His voice cracks; he’s holding back tears too.
I shut my eyes, willing myself to think of the future. Better to have it crumble now, instead of after I take his name. One fatal slash across the gut instead of a million tiny cuts that would never heal.
I push him in the direction of the door. “I need to be alone. Please.”
“We’re not finished with this conversation,” he says as he reaches for the doorknob.
I shut the door in his face.
Then I slide to the floor. One sob, then another. I wipe my face and tear a piece of paper from my notebook.
When I’m finished, I pull my phone from my pocket and tiptoe down the stairs.
The Uber pulls to the curb right as I open the front door.
57
SEBASTIAN
I don’t wantto go back to dinner. No part of me wants to sit down and answer my brothers’ questions about my future right now. But I’m the one who started this conversation, and Mia clearly wants to be left alone, so it’s my only option. Maybe by the time the meal is over, I’ll bring her a plate and we can talk.Actuallytalk, not fling words around like poison darts. I’m as guilty of it as her, but I meant it when I told her this conversation wasn’t over. We have to figure this out, even if our words are cutting each other deep.
A future without her is no future at all.
I linger on the stairs, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself. Stubborn tears linger, so I press the heels of my hands to my eyes. My feelings are a fucking jumbled mess right now, anger and sadness warring with a tsunami of worry. Who cares about whether we get married or have kids? I care more about my future with her than I do about any hypothetical children I might have.
Maybe I should try talking to her again.
I shake my head, even though I’m alone, and drag my hands down my face. That would just make things worse. She’s listening to all the wrong things, all the dumb shit that came out of my mouth instead of what’s important. And the way she accepted my kiss, then pushed me out of the room?
I play with Dad’s medallion, running it over my mind. I never thought I’d ever want to take back a kiss from Mia di Angelo, but right now, I wish it never happened.
The moment I get back to the patio, Penny jerks her head up. Something in my expression must give her pause, because she opens her mouth, but doesn’t say anything. I settle into my chair, but the food doesn’t seem appealing anymore. My stomach pinches in on itself. All the effort that Bex put into making this nice meal, while pregnant, and I made a mess of it. I should have kept my mouth shut about baseball for the time being.
Does Mia really think it’s a bad idea, or was she just panicking? When I first told her about it, she seemed so supportive. I just have to believe that those are her true feelings about it.
I rub my chest. Regardless of her intention, she succeeded. She has to know that I’m not aspiring to become some line cook at a random restaurant. I’m dreaming of The French Laundry, not Outback Steakhouse. I want to learn from those who have mastered their respective cuisines, all over the world. I want to wear the white chef’s jacket with pride, and have status in a kitchen when I’ve earned it. Eventually, I might want a restaurant of my own, or perhaps a whole group of restaurants. My competitive spirit and drive to succeed didn’t disappear—I just decided to change its focus to something that’s wholly mine.
I know Mia. If she didn’t think it was a good idea to begin with, she’d have told me. She’s just upset, especially since I pushed her too hard on her family. Pushed her to the point that she snapped at me about mine.
Fucking hell. I should have known better. She’s told me a dozen times how much her family means to her, even with all the bullshit.
“Are you okay?” Cooper nudges his shoe against mine. “What happened?”
