Page 97 of Say It Isn't So

“You,” she said, then stopped before trying again, jumbling her words and giving up.

“Rina.” I was trying to keep my cool, but she wasn’t making things easy.

Then she finally got it out, slurring, “You’re never going to love me again, are you?” The cracking in her voice made my insides churn.

I never wanted to hurt her. I didn’t want her to feel this way—unwanted. “Why don’t we talk about this another time? When you’re not drunk.”Yeah, that feels like a good idea.

“You don’t even need to tell me. I already know. You don’t look at me the way you look at her.” She didn’t need to say Bianca’s name because we both knew that was who she was talking about. “I’m done, Knox. I know I’d said I’d fight for you and that I was confident you’d come back to me, but I’m not anymore. And it’s too hard, too. . . too. . . pathetic for me to keep doing this to myself. To you. To her.”

In a softer voice, I tried calming her down—“Rina, don’t leave the bar, okay? I’m coming to get you.”

She groaned. “I just want to sleep with some random guy and forget all about you. Why did you have to show up in London? Why couldn’t you just stay in my past? I thought I had everything I wanted and then you had to come and ruin all of that.”

I heard loud sobs now as I placed my hand on the doorknob, ready to get out of here and get to Rina. Wherever she was.

Crying through her words, she went on, “I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to die alone. I don’t want to die and no one even know I’m dead because I’m all alone with no one who cares about me.”

Her biggest fear.

I opened the door finally and went to take a step forward to leave, but I almost bumped into. . . “Bianca,” I said aloud, almost not believing how this evening was unfolding.

“What?” Rina shouted in the phone.

“Call me back. Leave the name of the bar on my voicemail,” I insisted before hanging up and shoving my phone in my pocket.

Bianca blinked rapidly, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen like she’d been crying. The sight was like a punch to the gut.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, placing my thumb on her face to stroke her cheek. Her skin was damp from the tears she’d so clearly shed over her exchange with Angelo.

She leaned into my touch and closed her eyes, sniffing. “I need a place to stay,” she answered, her lip quivering as she choked back a sob. “Can I come in?”

I backed up and let her in, rolling suitcases and all.

She left the luggage by the door and turned, running her hands down the sides of her jeans as she shrugged when I closed the door. “He’s really mad. I don’t know how we’re going to come back from this.”

I couldn’t stand the position Angelo was putting Bianca in. He wasn’t being fair to her at all. It was like it was Angelo’s world and we all just lived in it.

Well, news flash: it wasn’t, and Bianca had a right to live her life the way she wanted.

He shouldn’t make her feel bad for the choices she made. For the choice she made when it came tome.

Then that little villainous voice came back—that’s right, it’s all your fault, this is because of you.

Silencing that blasted voice, I kept my focus on Bianca. I didn’t want to see her this way. It quite literally pained me. “Come here.” I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

Her head on my shoulder, she let out a good cry before taking a step back and running a hand through her hair. “It’s fine, I’m fine.” She sucked in, gaining her composure. “I’m not going to let him consume one more second of my thoughts. He’s being totally unfair and I thought he’d hear me out and we could have an adult conversation about it, but obviously he has his mind made up.” Then she added, “There’s nothing I can do. Honestly, I told him that I didn’t want to talk to him ever again and I meant it. I’m done with him, Knox.”

I found it hard to swallow past the lump in my throat. It must’ve been the size of a golf ball—no, a tennis ball—because I thought I was going to lose the ability to breathe, my airways closing.

This wasn’t what I wanted.

This was why I’d stayed away and why I’d been so insistent on staying friends.

Not that that was what I wanted, but what other choice did we have?

Bianca Morelli was (and always had been) untouchable.

I knew she wasn’t going to want to hear what I was about to say. Man, I didn’t even want to put the words out there. I wanted to kick myself for even allowing myself to open my mouth and say the words, but they needed to be said. “I think maybe it’s for the best if we—”

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