Page 162 of Ricardo

“We were trying to be careful, trying to do the right thing.”

“The right thing would have been staying away from each other,” he snaps. “You were trying to keep me in the dark.”

“No.”

“Yes.” His voice rises again. “Yes, Julia. That is exactly what this feels like. You and my father had your little secret, and I was walking around trusting both of you.”

His anger fills the room.

I deserve it.

“I should have told you sooner,” I say.

“And I should have never brought you near my family.”

I flinch.

He almost looks like he regrets his words.

His face twists.

“Don’t do that,” he says, shaking his head. “Do not put that on me.”

“I’m not trying to.”

“You are.” His voice breaks again. “You are making me the thing you’re afraid of, and now I have to feel guilty because I’m angry.”

“No. You don’t.”

“I know I don’t. I shouldn’t have to.”

He presses the heel of his hand against his eye, then drops it.

“I hate this,” he says.

My chest aches.

“I know.”

“I hate that it’s him. I hate that it’s you. I hate that when you called me, part of me was glad because I thought maybe you needed me, and I came here thinking I was going to help you.” He lets out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh, except there is no humor in it. “And instead I get this.”

Tears blur my vision.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.”

“I am.”

“I know you are.” He looks at me then, furious and wounded. “That’s the problem. I know you’re sorry, and it doesn’t change anything. I still want to walk out of here.”

Panic rises fast. “Please don’t.”

His mouth tightens.

“Please, Dante.”

He looks toward the door.