“Carina,” he responds, his tone mimicking mine. Then, using the phrase he’s heard me say over and over to Lina, he points back toward my bedroom. “March, little lady.”
35
Ryan
“I think you’re being a bit hasty, mate.”
My brother is trying so hard right now to be supportive. I appreciate what he’s trying to do, God love him, but right now, I just don’t want to bloody hear it.
“Alfie. Don’t.”
He was waiting outside of my suite before I got here. Not that I blame him. Speaking from experience, if he called me losing his mind, I would get to him as fast as possible too. Our bloodline may say we’re only half-brothers, but when it comes down to it, there’s no half about it. He’s my brother. Period.
Which is probably why he continues to push. He’s the only person I won’t lose my ever-loving mind on right now—and he bloody knows it.
“All I’m saying is that I think you’re both overreacting right now,” Alfie starts, watching me as I throw my clothes into the open suitcase on the bed. “Carina shouldn’t have told you to leave, but I know she bloody well didn’t mean to leave Massachusetts. Going back to New York seems a bit, I don’t know, dramatic?”
“Sorry if I don’t take relationship advice from the guy who married his rebound shag after the love of his fucking life left him,” I snap, throwing my trainers into the luggage. “Carina, Salem, Eloise…they’re all the bloody same. The whole lot of ‘em.”
Alfie’s eyes narrow, his lips drawing into a thin line before he shakes his head. “I’m gonna let that one slide, because I know you’re hurting.” His tone changes to one of warning as he continues with, “But, if you say one more word about Salem, I will send you back to New York with a broken nose.”
Sighing, I apologize. I went too far. Alfie would have gone to the end of the earth for Salem O’Sullivan. And, I don’t doubt he still would. Even though she left him. Even though she broke his heart.
But just like Carina, Salem made a choice.
And, maybe he’s right.
Maybe I’m being dramatic.
Maybe I shouldn’t get on that plane—the one that leaves in two hours.
But, you know what? Maybe Carina didn’t mean for me to leave Massachusetts, but she wasn’t here, asking me to stay, either. If she wants me to leave, I’ll leave.
I can sign off on things remotely as far as the show is concerned. Alfie can email me or we can video conference if any issues arise. It’ll be harder with one half of the producing team in New York, but I can’t stay.
I can’t look at her every day and know that she quit on me.
On us.
It was so easy for her to just tell me to go. To let me walk out the door when she knew what that meant. I gave her three chances to change her mind.
I begged her.
With a face full of tears, I fucking begged her not to do this.
She looked me right in the eyes, her face as still as stone, and told me to leave.
Carina Domenico stood tall as she watched me walk out the door.
Like a proper fool, I looked back as soon as I stepped onto the pavement—desperate for her to come running out, to tell me she didn’t mean it.
I didn’t want or need an apology.
I just wanted her to tell me to stay.
I would have gone back at any point.
If she called me right now, I’d be on my way to her house instead of getting ready to go to the airport.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have the smallest sliver of hope left.
Though, I’m not quite sure at this point if it’s hope or desperation that I feel.
Whatever it is, it’s bloody awful. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
The irony that I’m now dreading going back to the empty flat I was so eager to return to just a few weeks ago certainly isn’t lost on me either.
“There’s a folder on the table out there,” I begin, pointing to the open doorway of the bedroom. “It has all the confirmed dates for the promotional tour. You need to give them to Valentina so she can start booking Carina’s travel. I already gave Valentina the credit card she’s to use for all Halfway Homemade expenses, but please reiterate to her that all receipts should be forwarded to both of us.”
“You’re really doing this.” Alfie sighs as I put my last shirt into the suitcase. “I wish you’d at least stay so I could check in on ya. I don’t expect you to show up on set, but let’s go on a proper heartbreak bender before you leave—”
“I already bought my ticket, Alfredo,” I say, calling him by the nickname I tormented him with as a child. I know he hates it, so I only bring it out under special circumstances. “The car service will be here in ten minutes.”
After I close my suitcase, I double check the messenger bag I use for travel. When I reach for my passport, a small Polaroid-style photograph falls to the floor.
My heart sinks as I pick it up.
It’s from our brownie sundae night; Lina has chocolate syrup on her cheeks, and my eyes are half-closed because I was captured mid-laugh.
“Take two pictures, Mom. One for Ryan, and one for my wall of favorite people,” she said.
A visual memory that was supposed to capture a new beginning for all of us, now feels like a sucker punch to my heart.
Here I’ve been, throwing myself a goddamn pity-party, wasting my energy being so torn apart by Carina’s decision that I didn’t even take into consideration how Lina might be affected by this.
She put her faith in me.
I made her promises. Ones I would no longer be able to fulfill.
The guilt weighs down heavily on my already broken heart.
“Alfie, I need you to promise me something.” My stomach tightens knowing what I’m about to ask him. The tears, already fighting their damnedest to fall, are pushed closer to the edge when a hard lump forms in my throat. “It’s Columbus Day Weekend. Lina has a big footie tourney. I told her I’d be there. I need you to go in my place. I gave her my word. I need her to know I didn’t forget about her.”
“Of course, mate.” He nods somberly. “I’ll be there, and I’ll cheer loud enough for the both of us.”
At the sound of my mobile ringing on the table, my heart begins to race.
The disappointment when I see an unknown number—undoubtedly the car service letting me know they’re waiting outside of the hotel—is all but crippling.
“I really thought she’d call,” I admit, looking around the suite for anything I may have forgotten. “I really hoped she’d call.”
“I know, mate,” my brother says. “Me too.”
36
Carina
Forty-five minutes and one shower later, I feel just as nauseated as I did when I first got out of bed this morning. The aftermath of consuming too much alcohol no longer a viable excuse, there’s only one reason I feel like I’m about to vomit all over the leather seats of Archer’s car.
With Colwood Village Inn now in sight, my heart begins to slam against my chest.