With my emotions high, words spill out spontaneously. “You left. You walked away from me. So why are you here now, acting like I fucked you and left?”
Dante’s dark brows pull together, his expression hardening. “I didn’t walk away from you. I removed my daughter from a potentially dangerous situation.”
My throat thickens as shame sinks my shoulders. “Dangerous?”
“You lose yourself when you dance,” he says softly, his tone strangely in awe. “You become a different person. All your worries disappear when you twirl around the pole, and you come out of your shell. After seeing how much it boosts your confidence, how could I deny Camille the same crutch if she came to me, desiring the same uplift?” He lifts his gaze and locks eyes with mine. “I want her to be anyone she wants to be, but can I call myself a father if I didn’t try tolead her in the right direction? I’m sure it’s the same with your father. Does he know what you do for a living?”
His question almost splits me in two, but the force of his underhanded jab doesn’t stop my reply. “He wouldn’t have cared.” I look away before steering our conversation away from the many failures of my past. “Your plan won’t work.”
“Which plan?”
“Any of them.” My voice cracks. “I can’t do attachments.”
When Gabriele moves, I move with him. Even though my contact has only been electronic for the past two years, the chance of accidentally bumping into him is much higher if I stay in the same region as him. That’s why I follow Edoardo’s bounce from providence to providence and country to country. I can’t give up meeting my son in person for the first time on anything or anyone.
I step away from Dante and the hole in my wall that is a metaphor for everything he’s doing to me. I’m done talking.
Dante doesn’t stop me. He merely watches as I walk past the construction crew and the mess of my life, which he rearranged without permission.
Unlike Dante’s apartment, mine is cold and uninviting, but since it’s all I have, I crawl onto the recently uncovered mattress, pull the blanket over me, and then bury my head into the pillow.
I have no idea how to fix this, and worse, I’m not sure I’ll ever figure out how to stop wanting things I can’t have.
Camille has appeared in my dreams as often as her father over the past two weeks. Spending time with her daily will only make matters worse. That’s why I need to keep them at arm’s length.
It shouldn’t be hard. I know how to be cruel and detached because that’s how I was raised.
All I need is to make it through the night.
I’ll sort everything else out tomorrow.
