I would always love him, but it would no longer hurt to see him.
Oh, how wrong I had been.
I had been away a long time. And a lot had changed.
He was now a widower. And someone’s boyfriend.
Now, seeing him talking to Dante was like a knife in the heart.
Again.
I was regressing. Both men stopped talking and looked over at me. My heart stuttered. Then they said something and laughed.
I heard a voice say, “Gia Santella! There you are. I’ve been looking for you for the past hour.”
Of course, he had.
It was another dude from the gala board who always stared at my tits.
But instead of wanting to run away, I now felt relief.
I turned and gave him a brilliant smile, turning toward him and placing him in front of me so he blocked my view of Dante and James.
The last thing I saw before his big head took over everything was Nicoletta in her white dress with the ugly-ass mermaid tail hem sidling up to James and putting a protective hand on the back of his wheelchair. She was staring at me with a smug fucking look the entire time.
Time to bail.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I have to use the ladies room.” I headed for the exit.
“Wait,” I heard him say behind me. “The restrooms are the other way.”
But then I slipped outside and opened the door to the stairs with my employee key card.
At the top of the stairs, the door to the roof was propped open. As I neared it, the first thing I saw was a midnight blue sky full of twinkling stars—a rare sight in San Francisco, which often had a glowing, orange night sky.
I stepped out and inhaled deeply. The air smelled like a combination of salt from the ocean breeze and the fresh greenness of forest, maybe blown over from Marin County.
Suddenly the waiter was in front of me.
Thank God. I was done with finding dead bodies for a lifetime.
He grabbed me and kissed me, pressing me back against the wall. I planted my palms on his chest and pushed him away. Hard. He was lucky I didn’t demolish his balls with my knee.
“What the fuck?” I said.
“I saw the way you looked at me.”
“You’re just a kid,” I said, not denying his words.
“I’m twenty-three.”
“Like I said, ‘a kid.’” But he was older than I’d thought. He actually couldn’t be my son. Thank god. I’d been feeling like a pervert for the way I looked at him earlier.
“You’re so sexy,” he said, his hands on my waist, drawing me closer. “Let me show you how sexy I think you are.”
“Where’s your vape? I asked. But inwardly I groaned. His lower body pressed against mine, and I could feel his hardness and it made any resolve I had melt away.
I hadn’t had sex for a long time. Since Ryder in Barcelona. That seemed like a lifetime ago. And before that, when Nico was still alive but in the care home, I went without sex for years. It was ridiculous. Sex was healthy.
I loved sex. I wanted sex. Once upon a time, I didn’t even think twice about having sex with a stranger. In fact, I took pride in it.
We took turns smoking his vape. It was some damn good weed. Top notch stuff.
He handed me a joint. “You can have this for later. To remember me.”
Aw, he was cute.
He leaned back toward me, his face before mine, his eyes trained on my mouth. Then his lips were on my neck.
“I think this is a bad idea,” I said. Even I recognized it as the feeble protest it was.
“I don’t believe you,” he said in a low, husky voice. “I don’t believe for one second you buy into that sexist double standard. Men can be with younger women, but women can’t be with a younger guy? That’s total crap.”
He had a point.
His mouth was working its way up my neck. One of his hands was still firm on my waist. His other hand wrapped around the back of my neck, tangled in my hair. His breath was heavy now and I matched it. The anticipation of another kiss was irresistible. All logic and reason fled my mind. My body took over.
I could feel the heat coming off of him in waves. He leaned forward, his mouth was on mine, and despite myself I groaned in pleasure. And it just got better from there.
After, I pulled the hem of my dress back down as he buttoned up his pants.
“Holy shit,” he said, still breathless.
I exhaled loudly. “Okay, maybe it actually was a really good idea.”
He pulled me close and kissed me again. I let him.
Then he drew back.
“I gotta go,” he said, looking over his shoulder, but still holding onto my waist. “Do you think maybe one day…”
He trailed off. He already knew the answer.
I shook my head.
Then he was gone, back down the stairs.
I walked over to the edge of the roof and looked down at the city below me.
I’d lived around the world, but this city would always be my compass point, my ground zero, my homing beacon.
Even though I’d grown up in Monterey, I hadn’t felt like myself until I moved to San Francisco after my parent’s murder.
It would always be home.
I rummaged around in my bag and found my pack of cigarettes and gunmetal Zippo lighter.
I pulled the joint the waiter had given me from the pack, lit it, and inhaled deeply, savoring the flavor and instant feeling of mellow gold that suffused my entire body.
At first, I was more annoyed than anything when I heard voices and the door open up behind me.
I didn’t turn around. I hoped if I ignored whomever it was, they’d go away.
Then I heard the squawk of a police radio. I couldn’t make out what it said.
I froze.
“Gia Santella?” a deep voice said.
Cold fear
