Her fiancée, unfortunately she didn’t remember her name,
shook her head. “No. It’s because your family doesn’t approve
of me. I’m from nothing. I’m no one.” She paused and her
eyes filled with tears. She wouldn’t let them fall. Giana
wanted to reach out and rub them away, even though she
thought that was a new sensation for her. Why should it be?
Compassion? Care? If she had a fiancée, she was a good
person , wasn’t she?
She’s a secret. Your family doesn’t know. No one knows. No.
There’s no way. Her very being rebelled at the idea. There’s no
way I love this woman and I’ve treated her like this because
she’s poor. Because my parents didn’t like her. There’s no way I
wouldn’t be strong enough to fight for her.
“Let me take you home,” she said softly. “Do you remember
where that is?”
Suddenly, Giana did know. There was an address behind her
eyes, like black type on white paper, floating out in the middle
of nowhere. “Yes. I think so.”
“Good. Maybe you’ll be okay. Can you stand up? We
shouldn’t be having this conversation in your office. You
wouldn’t like that.”
Giana had a sense of that being very correct. She didn’t like
people to see inside her. When the other woman offered her
hand, which was small, the blunt fingernails painted with pink
nail polish that was chipping away, she took it. The contact
sent a jolt through her. It made her chest hurt more than it
helped. Standing made her head pound furiously.
“Alright, let’s get you out of here.”
The woman looped her arm around Giana’s waist. She was
petite. Smaller. Had sturdy winter boots on. She was already
