I drag a hand through my hair, already annoyed, and look at her.
"Be honest," I say. "Do you seriously picture Rava as the type of guy who’d walk up to me like, ‘hey, psst, come here so we can start making out’?"
She frowns. "Gio."
"No, really," I push. "You see him doing that? You see him starting it? Because I don’t. I see him barely able to say hi without overthinking it for three business days."
She doesn’t answer, and that’s my point.
"I’m the one who suggested it," I lie, shrugging like it’s nothing. "I’m the one who pushed. I said we should do it and he just went along with it. Because I can be convincing. Because I’m a bad influence. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
"So if anyone asks?" I go on. "If the Big Company People or Mr. Proud Canadian Father want to know whose brilliant idea it was, just throw me under the bus. Say it was mine. Say I dragged him into it."
She looks uncomfortable, but I don’t stop.
"Don’t stress about their perfect, brilliant little Canadian boy," I say. "He’s already got too many people ready to blame him for breathing wrong. You want a villain in this story? You’ve got me." I tap my own chest with two fingers.
"Point here."
She folds her arms. "Do you have any idea what this could do to his future? To his reputation? To his family?"
"Yes," I say, and for once I don’t joke.
"And that’s why I’m telling you it was my fault. Because it was." I hold her stare. "He didn’t ask for any of this," I go on. "I pushed it. I always push everything too far, you know it. That’s my thing. I’m the screw-up. So keep it that way."
She studies me, trying to see if I’m covering for him.
Because I am.
Obviously.
"What? I’ve been kissing people I shouldn’t since I was what, thirteen. This is not new behavior."
"You’d really take all the blame?" she asks.
"Already did," I say.
"I’m the Fontana disaster. It’s literally my brand." I grab my keys off the table.
"Where are you going?" she demands.
"To fix what I can," I say.
"And probably make everything worse. But I’d rather they crucify me to my face than him behind his back."
She opens her mouth to argue, but I’m already heading for the door.
37) I Didn’t Know
Rava
I hear the door open behind me. Either someone is here to drag me out by the hood, or someone is about to sit down and listen to me emotionally malfunction.
I turn my head, already exhausted by the idea of both.
Whoever it is, I honestly don't care anymore. I've already hit my quota of pain for today.
Got slapped. Got yelled at. Got called a disappointment in stereo.
