After Joel broke up with me and started dating Francesca, I hated both of them. But especially her. Because she’s everything I’m not. She’s as tall and beautiful as a model. She’s several years younger than I am. She’s a successful (or so I had thought) restauranteur. But as I step inside Francesca’s apartment, I realize something else about Francesca:
She is frightening.
I don’t know why, but it’s a feeling I’ve always gotten. That’s why I brought the knife tonight. Not because I’m scared of a faceless loan shark, but because I need protection against Francesca herself.
As I said, there’s something about her.
“What do you want?” Francesca growls at me.
I take a deep breath. “I know everything, Francesca. I know the trouble you’re in. I know that you’re putting the lives of everyone you care about in danger.”
She snorts. “You don’t know anything.”
“I tried to warn Joel,” I say. “But he won’t listen. So that’s why I’m appealing to you.”
Francesca arches a finely plucked eyebrow at me. She and I are both Italian women—nobody could say Joel doesn’t have a “type”—but we are so different. She is long-legged and tall with flowing hair. I am short and top-heavy with mousy brown curls. I don’t know how Dean could have said I look like Sophia Loren when Francesca is the dead ringer for her. I heard at Lydia’s Halloween party this year, Francesca dressed as Cleopatra and was absolutely stunning.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Francesca says. “Joel did listen.”
She says his name almost like Nonna does, with more emphasis on the second syllable. Jo-el. I bet he likes it, even though it drove him crazy when Nonna did it.
I frown at her. “Excuse me?”
“Joel came up here,” she says. “Accusing me. Asking all these questions about my financial situation. I knew you were behind it. Who else would put ideas like that in his head?”
I swallow. “So what did you say?”
She smiles at me then. I know I said Francesca never smiles, but that’s inaccurate. Her lips curl up and it looks like a smile, but there’s no joy behind it. “I told him he was being paranoid. Of course.”
“Of course,” I mumble. And surely he believed her. He is absolutely under her spell.
“Do you want a drink, Anna?” “No, thanks.”
Francesca walks over to her kitchen. She grabs the bottle of wine on her kitchen counter, and I can tell even with my rudimentary knowledge of wine that it’s expensive. She and Lydia both have very expensive taste in wine, but Lydia can afford it while Francesca can’t. That’s Francesca
—always spending beyond her means.
Not that I can throw stones.
She pours the wine into a glass, swishes it around for a moment. She takes a practice sip, letting it sit on her tongue for a moment, then she downs the rest of the glass in one gulp. And pours another.
“The problem is,” she says, “Joel did his research before he came here. He already knew exactly how bad things were for me.”
My mouth falls open. Joel listened to me. I can’t believe it.
“He ended it.” She takes another healthy sip of wine. “Told me he couldn’t be involved with someone who would get into this kind of mess and then lie about it. Of course, he didn’t know about the biggest secret of all.”
I shake my head, confused. “What?”
“Anyway,” she says, not answering my question. “Joel is gone. He walked out on me. For good.”
Is she saying what I think she’s saying? Did Joel really break up with Francesca?
“He’s all yours, Anna.” She laughs as she tops off her glass again. “He doesn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore. You can go pick up the pieces now.”
“I’m sure…” I blink at her, watching her drink more wine. “He’ll come back to you. He’s in love with you.”
“No.” She looks off into the distance. “Even if he was, you were right all along. It wasn’t fair of me to drag him into my mess. I’ll deal with it on my own.”
Joel is single again. Single and on the rebound. It would be easy to, as she says, go pick up the pieces.
But as I imagine a life with Joel, I realize that’s not what I want. I was scared for Joel when I found out what Francesca had gotten herself into, but I don’t love him anymore. Not like that.
The truth is, there’s another guy I can’t stop thinking about. And I’ve got to call him before it’s too late. If it isn’t already.
I look up at Francesca. I’ve felt a lot of things for her since that first night I saw her kissing Joel. Hatred. Envy. Fear. But this is the first time I’ve felt sympathy.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask.
Francesca laughs again. “God, you’re too nice. Just like Joel. So nice. It’s no wonder he wanted someone more exciting.”
My face burns. This is the Francesca I’m used to. “Fine. I’ll leave then.”
“Please do.”
After I leave Francesca’s apartment, I know exactly where I’m going. I don’t bother with the WhereAmI app—I’m entirely done with that, even if Joel hadn’t deleted it. There’s only one person I want to see right now, and it’s not Joel. I just hope it’s not too late.
One subway ride later, I’m standing outside the glass door to Dean’s cardiology practice, peering at the same blond receptionist who attempted to help me locate Nonna’s glasses. If she’s still here, then Dean would still be here, wouldn’t he? My heart is pounding, and not just because I ran all the way here from the subway.
The bigger question is, does he want to see me?
And then before I can wonder any further, there he is. Emerging from the back office, looking handsome as hell in a white dress shirt and dark blue tie, his dark hair black as ink. He tugs on his coat as he makes conversation with the receptionist. He smiles at her, flashing those white teeth. I remember the dazed smile he had on his face after he kissed me. If I close my eyes, I can still feel his lips on mine.
Before I know what’s happening, Dean is heading toward the exit, right where I’m standing. I quickly back away and flatten myself against the wall. I came here to find him, but I’m suddenly desperate that he doesn’t see me. This was a mistake. I’ve waited too long. I’ve blown it.
My attempt to hide is entirely ineffective. The second Dean swings through the door to his practice, his dark eyes widen when he sees me pressed against the wall. His mouth drops open slightly, but then snaps closed.
“Hello, Anna,” he says.
He’s not calling me Miss Loren anymore. Not a good sign. “Hi,” I say.
He raises his eyebrows at me. “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh…” I rub at my chest, suddenly conscious of the fact that I hadn’t dressed up prior to coming here. I’m wearing worn jeans and my puffy coat. “I think I’ve been having an irregular heartbeat. So I
figured…” Dean is staring at me and my shoulders sag. “Fine. I came here to see you.”
“Why?” He doesn’t say it in a mean way. More like he’s genuinely curious. He has a right to be a jerk to me after how I’ve acted, but he isn’t. “You didn’t seem to have too much interest in seeing me again.”
I shift between my feet. “Are… are you busy now?”
“Actually…” He glances down at his watch. “I’ve got a date in an hour.”
“Oh.” I lower my eyes. This shouldn’t surprise me. Dean is a great guy, and there was no reason for me to believe he would wait around for me. It would have been more surprising if he did. “I see.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, well. Why not, right?”
“Yes, of course.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “That’s… wonderful. Congratulations.”
“Congratulations?” He cracks a half-smile. “You’re congratulating me on getting a date? Am I really that ugly?”
“No.” My cheeks color. “Not at all. Just… um, the opposite.” That half-smile remains on his lips. “I see…”
“Look,” I mumble. I’m having trouble looking Dean in the eyes, but I’ve got to say my piece, even if I humiliate myself. “I know I screwed up before. I really… I like you.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “I don’t know what to say to that, Anna. I told you from the start that I don’t play games. When I told you I’d call the next day, I did. And when you didn’t return my calls, well…” He shakes his head. “I’m not playing that game. Not anymore.”
“It wasn’t a game.” I squeeze my fists together. “I just… I told you from the start, this breakup with Joel… it was hard on me. I mean, he and I were together for over ten years. When it ended, I just…” I chance a look up at Dean’s dark eyes. I see the tiniest bit of sympathy there, so I plow forward. “But I’m here because… I’m over it. After tonight, it’s behind me. I promise that.”
“You can’t make that kind of promise.”
“But I can,” I insist. “I don’t want to play games either. I can’t stop thinking about you and… if there’s any chance you still feel the same way…”
Dean is shaking his head at me. I have really screwed this up. He’s a great guy and I blew it. He’s got a date with another girl—one who doesn’t have two tons of baggage. I don’t even know why I’m bothering.
He fumbles around in his pocket and pulls out his phone. He punches some buttons on the screen.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
That crooked smile returns. “I’m canceling my date.”
For the first time since I walked in here, my heart soars. “You… you are?”
“Yeah.” He shoves his phone back in his pocket. “There was no point if I was just going to spend the whole date thinking about kissing you.”
Now it’s my turn to smile. “You would?”
“Well…” He takes a step closer to me. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since our night out. So.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls,” I say. “I was acting like an idiot. You’re the first guy I’ve liked since Joel, and I guess I just… I panicked. I went crazy.”
“Yeah, I did some dumb things after I got dumped.” It’s the first time Dean admitted he was the dumpee in his breakup. “I mean, I left town. Moved halfway across the country. That’s pretty crazy.”
I can’t even begin to admit to Dean some of the things I’ve done. Better he thinks he won the crazy competition. “Yeah, that’s pretty crazy. But I’m glad you did.”
“You know what?” His smile widens until my heart starts to flutter. “So am I.”
And then he kisses me.
