Instead, I go to the bakery.
Francesca starts to smile when she hears the jingle of the door bells, but her pleasure stalls when she spots me—probably especially because it’s clear from the state of my face that I’ve pretty much cried the whole way here.
“Mia,” she says, in that trailing off way like she’s not sure what to say.
“Why did you have to do that?” I ask, figuring she can piece together what I’m talking about. “If you didn’t want to risk it, you didn’t have to hire me.”
Francesca sighs, glancing over her shoulder, but no one else is around. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Mia. I just… I know my brother, and I wanted to see if there were any skeletons in your closet, anything he might take issue with. I didn’t expect to find anything.”
“I didn’t do anything to wrong your family in any way. I did the opposite of that—I kept quiet, despite human decency. I kept my mouth shut; I could’ve hurt Vince anytime I wanted to, for literally any number of infractions. Do you know how many times he broke into my house? Twice. I couldn’t have been better, and still I lose?”
She truly does look sympathetic, but inexplicably, her sympathy makes me feel worse. If she’d only been trying to come between us, if I had someone to blame, someone’s bad intentions… but she shouldn’t look so sympathetic. She broke us up.
“I know it seems so unfair,” she says, coming around the counter so she can stand closer to me. “I know it’s hard, and you’re so young, and you shouldn’t have to deal with any of this. I truly didn’t mean to hurt you.”
The helplessness is the worst of it. I feel like a puppet on a dark stage, dancing for an invisible audience. “Why won’t anybody consider that maybe your brother would see how good I’ve been, and he would be okay with me and Vince?”
Concern flickers through her sympathy, not the sad kind, but the kind laced with fear. “Because he wouldn’t, Mia. You’re not wrong—you did do everything right. But I promise you, even in the best of scenarios, this is not your happily ever after. Even if Mateo saw how good you’ve been, even if he didn’t…. hurt you… You’re too young to get trapped in this life.”
“But it wouldn’t be trapped if I chose it.”
“It wouldn’t be worth it,” she states, implacable. “Take it from a woman born to this family, Mia. I would sell my soul to get away from it—and it would be far worse for you.”
Chills move over me, not just at her words, but at how sincere she seems as she says them. I swallow, not sure how to respond to that.
Patting me on the shoulder, she offers me a sad grimace. “You want to take a cupcake?”
I shake my head no, certain I couldn’t eat right now if I tried.
Francesca walks back around the counter and pulls out a small handbag. A moment later she holds out a fifty dollar bill. “Take what I would’ve paid you today, for your trouble.”
I want to leave it there, on principle, but I’m too damn poor. I feel nothing as she hands it to me, but I push out a wooden, “Thanks.”
“I wish you the best,” she tells me. “I know Vince really liked you.”
That only makes it worse. If I could at least blame him, maybe I’d feel better. Maybe I would be angrier, bitter instead of sad. He took my virginity and then ditched me—what a bastard.
But no.
We both have to be sad, because everyone thinks his cousin is the big, bad fucking wolf.
—
Tuesday drags by in a depressing crawl. Vince gets to our class together early enough to reclaim his old seat, and when a confused Cody drops into the seat next to me instead, I have to fight back tears.
It’s like we never even happened.
I have to pick up both kids after school, so I’m holding onto Casey’s hand as we wait in the hallway at Allan’s school. My tired eyes scan the parents for the investigator again, but of course he isn’t there.
Once I have them both and we’re on our way home, I realize I’m too exhausted to cook. I know it’s unwise, but I put a dent in my $50, ordering a sausage pizza from the place Vince took me to.
I have to pick all the meat off and still listen to Allan complain about any potential sausage residue, but the worst part is, I can’t even eat it. I pick at the sausage with a lump in my throat, thinking of Vince, already missing him.
Bedtime brings the relief of silence, the cover of night, but I can only lie there, wishing Vince would sneak into my room again. I’d welcome him, even now, even after dumping me, even if it didn’t mean anything. Even if it was just one more night.