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I deflated like a bunch of balloons the morning after a party.
“I was talking to him, Dante, because I know him. I don’t know a lot of people, and since you spend every minute you can with Lucia at these events, do you blame me for talking to someone who sought me out? Or would you prefer I sat like a doll, smiling and waiting for you?”
“Don’t turn this around on me,” he snapped. “Everyone could see how you were with Luca.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Just don’t do it again. Behave yourself in public. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, is it?”
I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or cry.
Every time I thought things couldn’t get worse with Dante, they did.
“You know, Dante, Luca is a friend…actually, he’s someone I’m friendly with. Lucia is a lot more, isn’t she? The difference between you and me is that I didn’t spend the whole evening ignoring my spouse to talk to another man. Or let him hang off me like—like some trophy.”
“You know, instead of the restaurant business, you should’ve gone into acting since you have a flair for thedramatic.”
I took a deep breath and turned to look out of the window. This was a mistake. All of it. Marrying Dante. Coming to Rome. Trying to build a life with him. All of it. The only thing I’d done right was asking for a divorce.
Dante made me feel invisible when we were out with others. He allowed Lucia to treat me as if I was the interloper in my own marriage. I was a burden, a duty, and now an embarrassment. God! I was so tired.
“Elysa,” he called, and I turned to look at him, my eyes glazed over. “I just want you to be cautious in public.”
He was using his reasonable tone now—master to moron.
“I know, Dante and I will be.” I didn’t have the energy to say more.
I wasn’t the woman who fought and yelled and screamed. He was pushing me into becoming someone I wasn’t, and that wouldn’t do. I couldn’t let him influence me and bring out my worst angels. And if this wasn’t a clear sign that this marriage was unhealthy, I didn’t know what was. A union should make us better, stronger…but ours had not made me better or stronger. It made me insecure. It had hurt me.
“Thank you,” Dante replied politely. “You have to stop taking things so personally.”
I looked at him, puzzled; what was he on now?
“Lucia and I work together, and that’s all. It’s yourinsecurities that make you assume the worst about the situation. Honestly, the way you keep going on about it is tiring.” Then, as if he wasn’t sure how it all landed, he added, “I don’t mean to hurt you, Elysa. You understand that, right?”
The words hit like a slap, the air rushing out of my lungs. He was unbelievable. How could a man who was supposed to be so bright be so dumb? Hurt me? Try, devastate me. Try, demolish me. Try, incinerate me. Hurt was a mild word for what he did to me.
Once the car stopped, I opened the car door. “I’ll get the dress back to you.”
“Keep it, Elysa, you look nice in it.”
I shook my head. “I don’tfeelnice in it,” I told him bluntly. “And, Dante, this was the last time, okay? No more. I can’t do more.”
“Elysa, what does that mean?”
I smiled at him. “I…just want it to end.”
“What to end?”
“Us,” I said pathetically, feebly. “I wantusto end.”
I didn’t wait for a response. I didn’t trust myself not to have a nervous breakdown in front of him. I got out of the sedan, my legs shaking but carrying me forward anyway.
I didn’t stop until I was inside the flat building, the door slamming shut behind me. And as I rested my back against the cool wood, I let myself cry—not out of sadness, but out of the sheer relief of finally saying what I’d been too scared to admit forfar too long.
I wantedusto end so I could start the healing process. Seeing Dante like this was too damaging. Having him talk to me the way he just had was soul-crushing.
I couldn’t do this anymore.