“Hello,” I say pleasantly.
The woman looks curious. Daniel looks busted.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” I tell her, wiping my palm on my running shirt before offering my hand. “I’m Caspian.”
“Lydia,” she replies, smiling. She glances curiously at Daniel who is now sweating through his shirt. “Do you work together?”
“Yes,” Daniel says too quickly, already reaching for her hand. “We should go.” He tugs her away. She laughs, startled, and lets herself be pulled along.
I don’t stop them.
Instead, I take the direct route home, chest coiled with anger. Penelope might feel nothing but contempt for me, but she’s still my sister.
At home, I shower. Then I go pick up Antonio.
We were supposed to meet later, but I suggested we take a small road trip to see Penelope instead.
I wait for him outside the trattoria and notice immediately that something’s bothering him.
He steps outside, shoulders tense.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, kissing the frown on his forehead.
“Nothing.”
He’s looking at the sidewalk, at his shoes, the air — anywhere but me.
“Okay,” I say carefully.
“I’m fine!”
Once we’re both in the car, I turn to him.
“If it really is nothing, we can start driving. But if it’s something, I want to know.”
He stares right ahead, his leg bouncing.
“Whatever it is, I’m here. You couldn’t shake me off if you tried.”
He exhales. “I don’t want to ruin the mood,” he says.
I reach for his hand, slowly, giving him time to pull away if he wants to. He doesn’t.
“You can’t ruin anything, Antonio. There’s no required mood we should be having.”
His fingers curl into mine. Tight. I wait.
“I saw Ryan today, that’s all.”
I go still, the fury I felt in the library flaring back to life.
“What?”
“You know the park across from the trattoria?” he asks, his leg bouncing faster now. “He was sitting there. Just sitting on the bench by himself like a creep.” Now that he decided to tell me, the words come in a rush. “He had sunglasses on, but it was obvious he was staring at me. Waiting for me to notice.”
I squeeze his hand. “I hate that you had to deal with that alone.”
“Yeah, but he’s my problem, not anyone else’s.” He says it like it’s a line he’s rehearsed. His lower lip trembles. “I don’t want you to worry.”
