She asked me to hold her, and I did.
She startled once, maybe twenty minutes in—a sharp, involuntary catch of breath, her whole body tensing before her mind had caught up with where she was. I tightened my arms without speaking. After a second she exhaled and went still again, her grip on my shirt loosening as sleep reclaimed her. I lay there with my jaw tight and my hand at the back of her head and the sound of that small, helpless gasp lodged alongside the guilt.
For a long time, I lay there with her against my chest, listening to her breathing. But with every beat of my heart I felt the same truth settling more heavily between my ribs until I could hardly draw a full breath around it. When I looked down at her sleeping there, curled into me with such complete trust, I knew what I had to do.
Very carefully, I untangled myself from her.
Even asleep, she reached for me at once, catching my pillow and dragging it against her chest before burying her face in it. The sight of that almost undid my resolve. It would have been easier if she had turned away. Easier if she had not looked so heartbreakingly at home in my bed.
But nothing about loving Emily Hart was easy.
“Te amo sempre,” I whispered into the dark.
An empty vow, perhaps, like so many others I had given her. Or maybe the only one I could still keep.
I stepped out into the main room and closed the bedroom door softly behind me.
My father was at the stove making coffee the old way, the smell of it thick and bitter in the apartment.
“How is she?” he asked without turning.
I nodded once. “She’ll be okay. I think she’s stronger than any of us gave her credit for.”
Dad sighed quietly. “Yes. She’ll need to be, if she’s going to be in our lives.” He paused, then looked over at me. “Do you want your mother to come? She was worried sick, and I think Lily might be the right person for Emily right now. This is a great deal to adjust to, even for someone who thought she understood.”
I shook my head before he finished.
The pain in my chest swelled at what I was about to say.
“It won’t be necessary,” I said. “She’s not joining our family.”
My father looked at me for several seconds, his face unreadable. Then he turned back to the coffee and stirred it once, slow and thoughtful.
“She broke up with you?” he asked at last. “I wouldn’t infer too much. She may come around. Talk to me in the morning before you both make anything final.”
“No,” I said quietly. “She didn’t.”
He looked back at me again.
I held his gaze.
“I’m letting her go.”
For the first time in my life, my father had no answer ready.
He finished making the coffee in silence while I sat at the bar, my elbows braced on the counter and the heat from the cup doing nothing at all for the cold that had settled inside me.
Olivero chose that exact moment to emerge from the guest room, took one look at my face, then my father’s, and clearly decided he wanted no part of whatever this was.
Olivero disappeared almost immediately.
My father slid the coffee toward me and waited until I took a sip before he spoke.
“Shock cuts both ways, son. Don’t do anything rash.”
I rolled my eyes, too tired to do it with much conviction. “You’ve spent the last few weeks all but hinting this was the right thing to do.”
He looked at me then, steady and unsparing.