“I have never seen Valencia that drunk in my life. It wasn’t her and perhaps that wasn’t you either, but you hurt her deeply and that hurts me.”
“I know, mate. I am sorry for everything that went down. It was never my intention going into the night and the alcohol fucked with my head and I just felt…I don’t know what I felt.”
I ring the towel and wash out the bowl.
I need time to evaluate everything that he has said to me. I need to talk to Valencia about it and I already know it can’t be tonight. Therapy is hot on the schedule and I’m counting on it helping us.
There was so much animosity in the air and then Friday night we confided in each other. I was so damn close to kissing her and showing her just how much I’ve missed her, but it wasn’t the right moment and I needed to leave. It was the same feeling when she thanked me for giving her the mental health handbook. The heat in her eyes matched the blood pumping through my body, coaxed with nothing but my very much still present feelings for her. Just like on Friday, that moment had me wanting to whisk her away into the mesmerizing sunset with me and give in to every last one of our desires.
I need time to think.
You’ve got a lot to think about, Giannotti.
Bryce follows me on the way out. I’m wordless in my pursuit to slip on my blazer and undo a few of my shirt buttons. I can’t walk straight without feeling the pressure of each blow.
I quicken my pace by the coat closet and Bryce notices. “For the record, I’ve only seen Marcus sell them. I don’t do any of it. I’m more of a…drinks type of guy.” His rough, rumbling accent has a way of making me glance towards him as his eyes widen. “Even though I know alcohol is…never…the…ahem, answer.”
I’m so used to the unmotivated, cocky, persuasive Bryce. He’s nothing but wise now. I’ve never heard him speak so much truth. Would this bloom into some unlikely alliance?
Warmth of friendship.
Every once in awhile the hero needs the antagonist.
As Bryce slides his hands into the pockets of his dark faded jeans, I ask myself, can I forgive him for what he’s done? Can Valencia forgive him?
When he slips his hood over his head, I start to say something but I’m distracted by a figure in my peripheral vision. Head low, Marcus is down the street and walking back up at a slow pace. I don’t think he’s seen me, but I do and so does Bryce.
“Don’t worry, I’ll calm him down,” he says.
I eye Bryce who’s still focused on my half-brother. Then something dawns on me and I stand paralyzed for a moment. Does he know about…? No. Why would Marcus have told him? He wouldn’t have told him. It doesn’t involve Bryce. But what if he did? I don’t trust Marcus but he wouldn’t do that.
Oh, Dio. Stop overthinking it.
“Thank you.” There’s no anger left in me. I came here intending to settle the score, but his peacemaking has derailed everything. I’m so pensive yet perplexed I can’t even think straight.
“Your clients cannot be disregarded any longer, Bryce.”
“I know…I promise I’ll fix everything when I return to work. But if it’s alright with you, I just need to talk it out with Valencia first and apologize. Ya know, make her feel okay.”
I slip into my beige leather driver’s seat, my left foot still pressed against the pavement. Turning towards him has my injuries ache. “Zeluci tomorrow night at 7 P.M. She’ll be there with Kayla and her sister, Helena. Don’t tell her I told you. Make it right with her and we’ll review your position in the coming days. Okay?”
Bryce nods and I shut my door. “Okay.”
With one final nod, I switch on the engine and shut the door, not knowing if I should have told him where Valencia would be. It’s done now and it settles me that she won’t be alone with him. He wouldn’t do it again.
I have to trust Bryce McCarson.
I have to accept our truce.
Marcus is almost at the drive but stops to stare straight through me. I ignore the urge to talk to him and refocus on Bryce. I slide down the window when he taps on it. “Aye, don’t forget to apply vinegar and water in the mornings, even after the bruises appear. It’ll help ‘em.”
“Will do. I’m curious, who hurt you so bad you needed to learn all of this?”
That cunning smirk makes a return.
Bryce smiles. “A sweet little thing called the warmth of friendship.”
Valencia
Giulio kills the engine outside of the therapist and my eyes slam shut.
Breathe.
We didn’t mention anything about our moment on Friday during the entire drive here. Instead, we spoke about the children, his run in with Zoe last week and he also then briefly mentioned he saw Bryce McCarson this morning who apologized for the drunken bar incident. It doesn’t fix everything, but apparently Bryce sounded sincere and wants to make amends with me one of these days.
One point during our conversation earlier Giulio’s hand laced over mine. It was of those gentle thumb caresses that made my heart skip a beat and want him even more. Even the rough tension diffused and for once the silence between us wasn’t awkward. It was refreshing.
Now, as I mentally prepare myself for therapy, I attempt to drown out all my previous thoughts with positive affirmations.
I can do this.
It will be alright.
Trust the process.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes, I’m just preparing myself. It helps me get through it.”
There’s a soft hum to my left.
Giulio’s door shuts and I wait in anticipation for the next move. His fresh, citric aroma with a hint of elegant spices wraps around me, softening the bubble I use to protect myself from the world. The same bubble he can see right through.
