Summer
I put on a micro-skirt and fitted sweater with a draped neckline. It hugs my breasts and shows off my cleavage while still looking relatively classy. I don a pair of brown leather high heel boots and survey myself in the mirror. Eat your heart out John Jackson.
When I come out to the living room where Carlo waits, he raises one eyebrow.
I cock a hip, my high-heeled boot jutting out to the side. “What?”
He purses his lips. “Please tell me you won’t ever go out dressed like that without me.”
His dominant act annoys me at the moment. “What’s the big deal?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t play games with me. You look like you’re going out trolling. In this case, people will assume it’s to please me, and I hope to God it is.” He looks doubtful.
Heat creeps up my neck. Damn his ability to see through me. “Of course, it is,” I say breezily, walking past him to the door. “Are you ready?”
He frowns but says nothing, reaching past me to hold the door open, as he always does. The perfect gentleman. The gentleman who holds doors open and ties women to the bedframe at night.
The party is already happening when we get there. I purposely timed it for us to arrive late, not wanting to suffer the early awkward part of the party when you have to actually talk to people. The music is up, as loud as they could play it without getting complaints from their neighbors.
“You’re here!” Maggie’s a little tipsy. She looks radiant in a red v-neck blouse and hip-hugging jeans.
“I’m here. We’re here,” I amend.
Carlo’s hand rests at my low back. It feels possessive, like he’s staking his claim on me.
“Hey Summer! Where have you been?” A friend, Jenny, rushes over and throws her arms around me. She smells of vodka. “It’s great to see you.” She peers up at Carlo with admiration.
“This is Carlo.” I don’t add “my boyfriend.” It’s not because I’m still worried that Carlo doesn’t consider us a couple. He called me his girl, after all. It’s more… well, I don’t want to think about it now.
I glance around the apartment, trying not to flinch when I catch sight of John in the living room, sitting on the couch with his arm around a girl. My pulse races, and those feelings of unworthiness rush back.
Like I have something to prove to him, but he’s already judged and condemned me.
Why did I even come?
Lifting my sternum, I adjust my blouse, glancing down to remind myself how hot my cleavage looks.
“What would you like to drink?” Carlo murmurs.
“Red wine, please. I’m just going to say hi to some friends.” I nod toward the living room. “I’ll meet you in there.” I rub my lips together and waltz in, a bright smile on my face. Inserting myself in the middle of the scene, I greet my old group of friends.
“Heeeey, it’s Summer.” Pete picks me up and squeezes me. He’s definitely already drunk.
Oh, fuck.
It’s all well and good to make John jealous, but Carlo is another story. Carlo is possessive as hell. All alpha male. Dangerous when provoked.
I steal a glance at him and see him sending a death glare in Pete’s direction. He doesn’t know this is Maggie’s boyfriend. That it’s harmless. He doesn’t know this crowd at all.
I wriggle out of Pete’s drunken hold. “Happy birthday, champ.” I give him a friendly thump on the shoulder and step back.
I’m included in several simultaneous conversations, and I completely forget about Carlo until he shoulders his way through and hands me a plastic cup of wine.
I slip my hand into his. “Thank you.” I beam up at him. This is how a boyfriend should be. Attentive. Protective.
Possessive.
I love feeling like I’m the center of Carlo’s universe. So different from John, who thinks the world revolves around him.
I glance over at where John’s sitting on the couch.
He’s glancing my way.
Good.
I reach up and pull Carlo’s face to mine for a showy kiss. If I were smart, I would pay attention to the way his brows come down when we pull apart, but instead, I’m looking back over to see John’s reaction.
It’s a good one. He looks like he wants to kick something, for sure.
Ha. Serves him right. Carlo is a real man. He was a child.
“Summer!” a friend calls from across the room, and I cross the room, Carlo in tow.
I make the rounds for a while. When John comes into the room, I wrap my arms around Carlo’s middle and mold my body against his. He holds the back of my neck possessively. Intimately.
I love the way John abruptly turns and walks back out of the room.
Carlo unwinds his arms from me and leans in to say, “Hey, I’m going to go.”
“What?” I blink. He wouldn’t leave without me, would he?
“Why don’t you stay at your place tonight since you’re right here anyway?”
Only then does it occur to me that I messed up. “Oh.” I look up in confusion, a little too tipsy to understand yet what happened. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah.” He kisses me on the cheek. Not the lips. “I’ll see you later.”
“No, wait, I’ll come.”
“No.” His expression is inscrutable, but I recognize the finality in it.
My skin prickles with warning. “Are you mad? Was it about Pete picking me up? Because he’s Maggie’s boyfriend. It was harmless.”
“No, doll. I’m going to go. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“No, Carlo-” I grab his arm. When I realize I’ve called attention to us, I release it.
He turns and walks away.
Grabbing my purse, I follow him out the door. “Carlo, hang on!”
He stops in the hallway, his face still unreadable.
“I’m coming with you.” I catch up to him, but he doesn’t move to escort me out.
He faces me and rubs his forehead. “Bambina, I can’t do this.”
“What?” My voice pitches up as the panic bleeds into my soul. What’s he saying? My heart pounds in my ears.
“I don’t think it’s going to work out for us. The timing’s bad. You weren’t ready for a new relationship-you just needed a distraction and…” He sighs. “I don’t want to be your sloppy seconds. It was arrogant of me to think I could make you forget about your douchebag ex, but clearly, I can’t.”
My vision blurs. “No, Carlo. I’m sorry. You’re not sloppy seconds.”
He doesn’t look angry. His expression only holds regret. Or even sympathy. Well, yeah. He’s the one breaking up with me.
“It’s not your fault. You can’t change what’s in your heart. It is what it is. Go on, get back to the party-it’s where you belong. I’ll bring the kittens and your things over tomorrow.”
I literally can’t breathe.
And then he turns and walks off. Just like that.
Tears spill down my cheeks. “I don’t belong there.” My voice rises with a sob.
He doesn’t turn around. Isn’t going to rescue me from myself this time. It’s over.
Turning, I rush back to Maggie’s. I need a friend, and I don’t care anymore what anyone at the party thinks of me. Including John.
Which is too bad because it’s too late for that change of heart.
Carlo
I drive home but don’t go in. Instead, I sit in the parked SUV, staring into the darkness.
I’m fuck-all tired. Or maybe just numb.
I’m not pissed. It’s my own fault for pursuing Summer. She wasn’t ready. I made my move too soon.
I saw that window of opportunity, and I took it, but it was misplayed.
Tragically misplayed.
The heaviness that’s descended on my chest has a familiar weight. The sense of betrayal isn’t there like I had with Mario, but the loss is the same. The disappointment. The ache of loneliness that goes miles deep.
I lean my head back against the headrest and close my eyes. I can’t even face going into my apartment and seeing her things. Hearing the kittens scramble around all night exploring.
Sleeping in the car is better than facing the loss of Summer right now.