“Take care of yourself,” he murmurs, kissing near my ear.
“You too,” I whisper.
When I’m home, I look up Kant and deontology—and I wish I hadn’t. As it turns out, it’s the opposite of consequentialism, which says the outcome is what matters most…more than the action that propels you toward that outcome.
In deontology, the action matters. If I had to summarize it, I would say it’s philosophy of duty. After some time thinking as I lie in my bed, I think he was saying he likes consequentialism, but his life has been more a venture in deontology. He did what he thought he had to do. It seems like all his actions, as long as I’ve known him, have been based on things he felt obligated to do.
He’s lived a life defined by duty, and for what? Does Roberto Arnoldi really give a damn what Luca sacrificed? How he gave up his whole life to run this dirty business empire? I know, I know—so many business empires are dirty, or maybe Luca with his philosophy degree would say the rules don’t even matter. But he’s alone. I bet Oscar doesn’t even sleep with him. I found a weighted blanket on his bed. I still don’t know a thing about that awful scar. He’s out of reach…even for me. If he won’t talk to me, he doesn’t talk to anyone. I just know it.
I can do nothing. I can’t date him. Loving him will only ever pull me into anguished pieces. I wish I could move away, but I can’t. I drift off to sleep thinking of his hand on my hot forehead. When I wake up, all I want to do is text him.
I wait till I get to work. Then, at the place where it’s the most forbidden, I ease my phone underneath my desk and open a text box.28EliseThank you, cuore. Take care of yourself and Oscar.
It’s all I can say. He replies four hours later: Do the same, E.
For days, it kills me that he didn’t call me rosa.
When Dani asks me out for drinks on Friday night with her and Ree and Ree’s new girlfriend, I go gladly. I don’t drink, but I get tired enough just being out with them that when I get home, I feel almost uninhibited enough to text him again.
I get a shower, do some yoga, read on the couch. I’m lying in bed with moonlight spilling onto the pillow when I give in.
There’s so much I want to say, but just one question matters most: You okay?
He sends a photo of himself and Oscar. He’s sitting on the couch in a black T-shirt. He looks scruffy. Sexy.
Wow, so YES. But you look tired. I see little lines around your eyes, you beautiful old man.
Lol are you drinking? ;)
Maybe, I say.
Well that begs the question- are you okay?
No. I don’t mean to text it. It’s the truth, though. For a long time, there are little dots that say he’s working on a reply. I picture Luca typing and deleting.
Did you see the moon tonight, he finally asks. It’s nice and round. He sends a picture through a moment later.
I send him a black heart.
You remember that, he says.
I remember what you said, yes. It was on the balcony, at Jace’s family’s place after the football game.
Always heed the warnings, rosa dolce.
U know what? I wouldn’t change this for the world. I send another dark heart symbol.
He sends one back.
I wait up for nearly three hours, hoping for more.
But he knows, the same as I do: This is over.* * *LucaThe camera outside Elise’s door breaks the third Monday in August. I don’t send someone to fix it—or rather, not immediately; it’s kind of tough to do the thing discreetly, and I’m waiting for one of Soren’s friends to get by there.
During that time, I don’t know what’s going on with her. Soren looks at her work server and sees some files and says he thinks there’s been no movement on the H yet, nor the pink ops. We don’t know how the FBI would react if Elise’s office questions them about all that. Sure, it’s not a crime, what I do, but only a few people in the local office know about it. If the broader organization—the FBI, or the D.A.’s office—did some looking around, they might find it’s not nefarious but still decide to twist it up and use it to get me, in lieu of solid drug trafficking charges.
That’s what you get when you live your whole life underneath the table. How can I expect it to be different?
Soren says it’s okay. Alesso wants me to do something, and I understand. But what do I do? Nicci Woodbern, the main contact I had there, left her post in late June. Had a baby. Even if she was still around…just because they look the other way for a time doesn’t mean you’re in the clear. It’s the system’s game—it always is, no matter what you tell yourself, no matter what Roberto says from Europe. System’s game, the system’s rules. The best we have is Soren’s hacker voodoo, which will never paint a complete picture.