Chiara’s face morphed from contrite to exasperated. “That crazy Candy lady had sent you a bazillion emails trying to get you to talk to her and go out with her . . . she’s loony.”
I wisely chosenotto respond to that.
Chiara continued, “Someone needed to let her know that you aren’t interested in her. She needs to back off.”
Silence.
Conflicting emotions flashed through me—disappointment, surprise, flattery, outrage, frustration, hilarity, shock and, well, more disappointment. I didn’t know which one to settle on.
I went with, “And you felt likeyouhad the right to read Candy’s emails to me and respond?”
“Well . . .” Chiara threw her arms in the air. “ . . . yeah. Who else would tell her to back off my man? My mom?”
Had I a body, I would be nursing a glass of scotch and pinching the bridge of my nose at this point.
“No, Chiara,Iwould be the one to tell Candy to back off.” I tapped my chest. “Why wouldn’t you trust me to do that?”
“I do trust you!”
“How? You replied to messages in my private email account. How is that trust?”
“She was blatantly throwing herself at you!”
“Your point?”
“You’reminenow.”
Her response didn’t sit well with me. “You do realize that I’m a person, correct? Not simply another possession, like a pair of new shoes or a designer handbag? I might be a ghost, but I still have the heart and emotional feelings of any other human being. The men you date are not simply objects to decorate your life.”
“What?!” Her voice climbed several octaves.
“You literally said a few moments ago that you refused to give up on us. But any relationship between two people is built on trust. You have to trust that I will do the right thing, just as I have to trust you not to invade my privacy. When you do things like this, you break the trust between us.”
“She was hitting on you!”
“Chiara, that is not the point here.”
“Itisthe point. How can I trust that you won’t leave? You’re leaving right now! You’re not even willing to try!”
I gave her my most lordly, withering stare. “You know that this situation is different.”
“Is it, though?”
“I adore you,Chiara mia, but I’m not going to allow you to twist this into something else. You violated my trust here. That’s not normal behavior.”
I paused, placing my hands on my hips, shaking my head.
I hated to say it but . . . “I think Tennyson is right,” I continued. “Maybe therapy might do you good.”
Given her sharp gasp, I knew I had made a terrible mistake.
“Excuse me?” Chiara’s voice was fractured ice. “Did you just say that I needtherapy?”
“Chiara—”
“I thought you liked my crazy! I thought you liked me just the way that I am.”
“I do like you, but sometimes—”
