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Crazy to think it was a good idea to fall in love with him.
A fresh wave of tears stream down my cheeks, bringing the sting of betrayal with it when I think about how I gave Massimo my heart and he ground it up like minced meat.
Heartbreak is a funny thing. During the drive down the mountain, I move out of the first stage of shock and dive headfirst into the second stage of anger.
I have half a mind to turn the truck around and storm back to the cabin to give Massimo a bit more of my mind. But I don’t think my heart could take seeing him right now.
Instead, I drive on until I reach Main Street where I park the truck and walk over to the gas station like Jules told me to. She’s waiting for me in the parking lot. The black Mercedes.
The moment I slide in, the weight of leaving Massimo and the truth of what he has done to me hits me like a wall of water and I burst into tears again.
Jules starts the engine. “Don’t cry, Bianca. You’re safe now.”
I have so many questions but don’t feel like talking, so I stare out the window at the misty alpine landscape as Jules drives us the rest of the way down the mountain.
Somehow, I manage to fall asleep, lulled into a dreamless state by the forward motion of the car and the long winding roads. When I wake up, I’m surprised to see we’re just out of New York City.
I sit up but wince because of the kink in my neck.
“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“That’s okay, you must’ve needed it. I don’t imagine you got a lot of sleep while hiding away in a cabin with Massimo De Kysa.”
I don’t know if there is something in her tone that makes me feel on edge, or if it’s the fact that she’s right, I didn’t get much sleep while we were in the cabin because of all the sex, and thinking about that hurts.
But there is a strange tingling sensation working its way through me.
It could be because I just woke up, but it feels like something in the car has changed. Jules is razor focused on the road. Maybe she’s tired too, but her mood seems low.
“How far away are we from your new apartment?” I ask.
“About twenty minutes, why?”
I don’t want to poke a tired bear, but I really can’t wait twenty minutes. “I really need to pee.”
She looks annoyed but pulls into a gas station a few miles down the road.
She waits in the car while I run to the restroom. Inside, I empty my bladder and feel the sting of this morning’s lovemaking, and a warm rush of tears surges through me. But I fight them off because I know once I start crying again, I might implode with the pain, and I don’t want to do that in a gas station off the I-95. So I pull my shit together, splash water over my face, and ignore the reflection in the mirror with the drawn features and sad eyes.
Never trust a De Kysa.
Back on the road, Jules is still quiet.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
She pulls her eyes off the road and gives me a smile. “Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”
“You’ve gone quiet. I thought you might be pissed at me.”
“Maybe I’m tired, did you consider that?” She frowns and turns back to the road. “It’s not always about you, Bianca.”
I feel the sting of her words. “I know, I’m sorry. But if something is wrong, I want you to tell me.”
The tension in the car seems to thicken, and I don’t understand why. I want to know what happened to the woman I had dinner with the other night. The one who was apologetic and seeking forgiveness. She’s gone, replaced by someone tense and agitated.
My sixth sense is screaming at me to press further.
Your life depends on it, I hear it whisper.
But I don’t. I keep quiet as we drive past familiar landscapes.
I expect her to turn left and head toward Tribeca, but she doesn’t, she keeps driving straight ahead.
Eventually, she pulls into the parking lot near the waterfront and kills the engine. She climbs out and walks off. I sit there stunned, trying to work out what just happened.
After a couple of minutes, I climb out and follow her, wondering how I offended her. She’s in the gazebo overlooking the water, leaning against the railing. A crooked smile slides across her face as she waits for me to step into the gazebo.
“Jules, what’s going on?” I ask. “Why are you so angry at me? And why are we here? I don’t understand what just happened.”
The strange feeling returns, snaking its way through me.
It is my friend standing in front of me. But something is very off about her.
