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Time passed, and as much as she wanted to delay having to think—-
Reality came all too soon, and Sarica could already feel her eyes start to sting as she pulled away. She could feel his gaze on him as she rearranged her dress and clumsily rose to her feet.
"I love you, Giancarlo," she said jerkily.
"Sarica—-"
"B-But if you insist on making it seem like I n-need you to be s-something in order to love you—-" Her voice faltered. "You'llmake me think that it's the same for you. Do you need me to be something for you to keep loving me? Will you stop loving me if I'm no longer what you need?"
Chapter Fourteen
Please, please, please.
Please come after me.
Please say you don't want me to go.
Please stop me from leaving.
But none of these things happened as she ran out of the room, past the crowds in the club, and into the endless night.
She ran without knowing where she was going, and she would have kept running if not for someone suddenly blocking her way—-
Justina?
In Sarica's desperate attempt to avoid collision, she ended up stumbling backward and straight into a mountain of garbage bags stacked against the alley wall. One of the bags burst, and the stench of something umistakably fecal assaulted her noses.
"Oops."
Sarica's heartbreak turned into annoyance in a flash at Justina's tone of sham sympathy.
The other woman made a show of wrinkling her nose even as she offered Sarica a hand, and even though Sarica knew she should just be thankful—-
I'm so sorry, God.
Sarica allowed Justina to pull her up before stumbling forward and wrapping her arms around the other woman as tightly as she could.
Sarica pretended not to notice Justina struggling to be free.
One more second...
There.
Sarica made sure to properly share her new fragrance, Eau de Garbage, with Justina before taking a step back. The other woman looked as if she was about to throw up, but Sarica pretended not to see this as well.
"Are you okay?" It was Sarica's turn to feign sympathy. "I'm so sorry for crashing into you...like...that." Her voice trailed off as her mind started working again.
Wait a minute.
She looked at Justina suspiciously. "What are you doing in New York?" More importantly, did Justina come here with Giancarlo, and oh dear God, did these two marry again for another stupid reason—-
"I never got around to apologizing for what happened that day."
Sarica sobered up at Justina's unexpectedly tight tone. "You don't have to say sorry—-"
"Then I won't."
"But if you insist—-"