I’m on a warpath by the time I get back to Santiago’s house. My tears have dried on my cheeks, leaving behind streaks in my blush. Santiago isn’t in the doorway when I return. I’m somewhat grateful because it gives me the ability to think over what he did.
I step into my bedroom and leave the door open, not caring if Santiago walks inside.
It doesn’t take him long to find me. I’d pity him for the shitstorm he entered, but he is the cause of it after all.
“What’s going on?” His eyebrows draw together as he assesses my luggage on the bed.
“I’m leaving.” My voice is wooden.
The thump of his iWalk fills the silence. “What? Why?”
I shrug before throwing my clothes into my luggage, not caring how they land as long as they make it in there. I’m desperate to make this process as painless for me as possible. I’m no coward in the face of pain, but even I have my limits. And this man right here is the ultimate test of them.
“Matteo told me about my dad.” I throw a pair of sneakers with a little extra oomph into my luggage, and they smack against my clothes.
“What do you mean? Look at me.” Santiago presses a tentative hand on my shoulder.
I wince at his touch, and he drops his hand. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. He told me everything, including how you knew for days about my real father and didn’t tell me. If there is one thing I ask of you during this conversation, it’s to not pretend anymore. I think I’ve had enough of your lies to last me a lifetime.” My hoarse voice cracks. I blink back the tears threatening to leak out of my eyes.
I might have cried with Matteo, but I refuse to cry in front of Santiago. He is the last person who deserves my tears, especially when he’s the reason for them in the first place.
“Chloe, please listen to me. I didn’t lie to you.”
I spin on my feet. “To me, withholding the truth is the same thing as lying; it doesn’t matter how you want to validate it in your head. You knew Matteo’s true identity and you said nothing. You let me go about my days like nothing happened. And worse, you let me believe my dad was really alive, and that’s just cruel.”
He recoils. “I didn’t want to. I told him to tell the truth and he didn’t listen. You have to believe me. When you went to his house for the first time, he was supposed to tell you. That was the plan.”
Everything clicks together. “You knew. That’s why you wanted to come with me.”
He nods, becoming visibly uncomfortable as my scowl deepens.
“And that’s why you pounced on me when I got back. And asked me a hundred questions. You knew, even then.”
He lets out a deep breath. “Yes.”
I place a hand on the bed, needing the stability. “And what did you do when you realized he didn’t tell me the truth?”
“I went over there and told him that he had no choice but to tell you the real story. That you have the right to know that your dad passed away. The man wanted to pretend he was your father permanently for fuck’s sake. Without me, who knows what he would’ve done. I was only doing what I thought was the best choice to make sure you heard it from the right person.”
“You should’ve told me the moment you found out. I thought we were close. That we got one another.” My voice breaks, matching the feeling inside of me. Everything hurts as I manage my thoughts.
“Of course we are close. I love you. There’s nothing closer than that.” He takes a step toward me.
I take one back, hitting the nightstand with my butt. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have pretended to my face that Matteo was my dad. I told you stories about him. We laughed about the craziness he shared with me. How did you sit there and act like you didn’t know all this time?”
He throws his hands in the air. “I was trying to protect you! I thought it would be better to hear it from him rather than me.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid to hurt you. I knew it would destroy you to learn about your dad from me.”
“Well, it turns out your choice hurt me a hell of a lot more.”
“Please, just give me a chance to explain my reasoning.”
I shake my head. “No. I can’t do this right now. I need space.”
“You told me you wouldn’t leave me.”
“That was before I found out you could lie straight to my face and not even flinch while doing it. I feel like a fool for trusting you. Do you even know how hard that is for someone like me? Or how painful it is to admit I love someone? But I should’ve expected this. You grew up surrounded by love while I grew up being manipulated by it.”
He starts to speak, but I cut him off. “I can’t stay here anymore.”
“You’re going back to America?” Panic floods his voice.
“No. Not yet. I need to speak to Matteo more and learn about my dad.”
He flinches.
Yeah, asshole, I’m not staying here because of you. “But just because I’m staying doesn’t mean I want to live here after knowing what you did.”
He fists his hands by his sides as if he needs to restrain himself. “Don’t go. Please.”
I zip up my suitcase and tug it off the bed, ignoring him.
“Chloe, stop. Please.” His voice croaks. “You should stay here. I’ll go and stay somewhere else. I don’t give a shit.”
I halt, my hand frozen on the luggage handle. “What?” Why would he offer something like that?
“I want you to stay here. I know you don’t entirely believe me right now, but I do love you and I don’t want you staying in some hotel. This will always be your home if you want it. Plus, it gives you access to see Matteo at any time.”
“I don’t want that right now.”
“But you might, and at least you’ll be a short walk away. And it’s free.” He stumbles over his words, as if he needs to get them all out before I bolt for the exit.
I want to scream at him to stop being caring. It’s the last thing my vulnerable heart needs, but I give in. He hooked me with the word free.
“Fine. I’m going to stay solely because I need to save the money for my return ticket back home. That’s it.”
His head drops, but he nods.
“You’re actually not going to sleep here?” I still can’t believe it.
“No. I’ll go somewhere else.”
I nod my head and turn back toward my luggage. “Okay.”
He lets out a shaky breath. “Will you give me a chance to fix this?”
I don’t bother looking in his direction. “People aren’t like your cars. You can’t repair what’s too broken beyond repair.”
“I would’ve said the same thing about myself, but then you came along. I’m not going to tell you I’m sorry. I’m going to show it.”
I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out. A wave of exhaustion hits me and my shoulders drop. Staying strong is taking its toll.
He lets out a sigh. His footsteps fade away into the distance. It doesn’t take long for the lock at the front door to turn. Instead of relief hitting me in Santiago’s absence, a wave of sadness washes over me.
I crawl onto the bed and curl into a ball. Today’s events weigh heavily inside of my chest. Just when I thought everything was going right in my life, God threw a bomb in my lap and expected me to disable it.
My dad is dead, Santiago knew and didn’t say anything to me, and the whole reason I came to Italy in the first place is pointless.
I don’t know what to do from here, but I do know one thing. I hate liars, and I somehow fell in love with the best one.
“Shut the fuck up! This can’t be real,” Brooke yells into her phone.
“Ugh.” I drop back onto my mattress, allowing the foam to swallow me whole. At least Brooke listened to the whole story before screaming. Down to the last detail, including everything about Santiago. From his deceit to him letting me stay in his home without him even living here.
“How is this even possible? The test can’t be wrong.”
I grip onto the loose thread of my raggedy pajama pants and pull. “They’re twins. Identical twins. That means they share basically the same DNA. It’s science.”
“It’s stupid.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Fuck.” Brooke’s voice becomes nothing but a hoarse whisper.
“Yup.” I blink away the tears misting my eyes.
“What are you going to do now? Do you want to come back home?”
Thoughts flood my head. I can barely wrap my head around everything Matteo revealed to me, let alone decide if I should leave. Any thought about leaving is instantly replaced by ones of Santiago and how he kept the truth from me. How can I trust someone who pretended in front of my face that he didn’t know who Matteo really was?
Brooke sighs. “What are you going to do?”
“Pour wine into a baby bottle and cry myself to sleep?”
“And?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had enough time to think up a plan. You’re the first person I talked to after my life went from Disney Channel Original Movie to Chernobyl Diaries.”
She snorts. “Chernobyl Diaries was a terrible movie.”
“My point exactly.”
“Do you want to FaceTime?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
“Grab your favorite wine and your laptop. Let’s have ourselves a date night.”
My throat tightens. “Brooke?”
“Hmm?”
“I appreciate you. Just so you know.”
“Gross. Save the touchy-feely shit for the nine-inch dick you’ve fallen in love with.”
“People don’t fall in love with dicks.” I let out my first laugh of the night despite the clenching sensation in my chest at her words. Brooke always has this way of erasing my pain, even if it’s for a few hours.
“The person or the appendage? Because I have an argument for both.”
My laugh turns into a full-blown fit of giggles.
Slowly the ache in my chest lessens at the thought of Santiago deceiving me. Of course, I understand he didn’t lie outright, but withholding the truth is still considered deception nonetheless.
But why don’t I feel as angry or upset about Matteo doing the same exact thing? Is it because I’m too desperate for a connection with a father figure to care? Or is it because I willingly gave Santiago the opportunity to break down every single barrier left around my heart before he broke it?
God, I hate this back-and-forth argument going on inside of my head. No one warned me about what happens after two people fall in love. How once the credits roll, the rainbow disappears and the world is thrust back into the reality of rainstorms and ugly days.
But to be honest, what did I expect? I’m the one who fell in love with someone who built a relationship while deceiving others. There’s no one I should be angry at besides myself. I’m basically the idiot piglet from the “Three Little Pigs” who thought life was good in a house made of straw before the big, bad wolf blew the house down and proved me wrong.
Angry at myself more than Santiago, I rip the covers off my body and climb out of bed to gather my video chat supplies. I skip grabbing a glass and pick a bottle of wine, shutting myself off from any kind of Santiago or Matteo-related thoughts.
And together, I get drunk with my best friend while saving my pain for another day.
