Page 27 of Dante
"I told him." She moved her shoulders jerkily. "More like I disgraced myself by puking my guts out and had to tell him."
"And?"
"I might lose my job." She blinked back the tears.
"He said that? Because it's damn illegal."
"I kept it from him in the first place. He has every right to be pissed and to want me gone."
Caleb pressed his lips together, fighting back his instinct to leap up and start pacing the kitchen as he always did when anxious. "Listen," he said finally, his voice quieter than she'd ever heard it, "that's not how this works. You don't just get tossed aside because you had something going on in your life, something as big as this. If he's any kind of decent, he'll understand."
She didn't answer, just looked down at her hands, tracing a pattern in the grains of flour dusting across her knuckles. A silence stretched between them, a heavy, delicate thing that neither dared break for a breathless moment. It was broken only by the faint bubbling of the soup and the low hum of a morning radio drifting in from the living room.
"I don't want to depend on anyone," she said at last, her voice husky with exhaustion. "Not even you. I've worked hard for everything, and now it's like all that can just be taken away because of a mistake."
He squeezed her hands, gentle but insistent. "Needing help isn't a mistake. And you didn't do anything wrong. You did what you had to do. You'll figure the rest out as you go, like you always do. And I'll be here, for however long you need."
She managed a brittle, grateful smile, blinking fast. "Okay." Rising, she rubbed her hands over her faded jeans briskly. "Okay, enough of this pity party. I will be fine. If I must look for another job then so be it. You're right. I'm strong and resilient and this is not going to break me."
He crossed to her and pulled her into his arms. "That's my girl."
Lifting his head, he looked around the spotless kitchen. "Jesus, you must have been really stressed."
She smiled weakly. "You should see the rest of the place."
Magda stared at him and felt the anger burning her throat. How dare he stand there looking so damned appealing and sexy in that rough and tumble way of his and declare that it was over! She knew it was coming but had hoped, had bloody well wished she was wrong.
Now here he was in the doorway of her apartment, standing just inside the front door as if he was loath to come inside and telling her that it was over.
And try as she might, she was finding it rather difficult to hold onto her dignity and pride. She wanted to scream, throw things and claw his eyes out for doing this to her. She wanted to beg and ask for a second chance. And was seriously on the verge of humiliating herself.
She! An accomplished actress and an established beauty. Men had written odes to her looks, calling her the rose of daytime television. She could get any man she wanted.
But this peasant. She reigned in her thoughts and felt the tears burning the back of her eyes.
"Can we at least talk about this?"
Her voice was quiet, belying the bitter storm raging inside her.
"What's the point?" he asked impatiently. "I never made a promise."
"It was implied!"
He raised a brow at the tone and the words. "Was it?" He was weary, exhausted really. Last night had been a restless one and on top of it, he had decided that it was time to make a clean break. For the first time in his life, he had no idea what the hell he was doing.
"I'm sorry." She hated the fact that she was the one apologizing. "Have you met someone else?"
The question was dragged from her. She had to know, had to make some sense to all of it. She had plans for them. People had started to stare at her with envy. Women sighed softly whenever they stepped inside a room.
It would not do for the papers to pick up on the fact that they were no longer together. She could spin the tale that she had been the one to walk away, but no one would believe her.
"I cannot believe you're just walking away. I deserve to know what I did wrong." Her eyes turned limpid. "You owe me that."
"I don't owe you a damn thing." Suddenly he was angry with her, with himself, with the situation he was facing at his office. He wanted to run away and hide somewhere, a place where he would be able to think. Be alone with his thoughts.
Raking his fingers through his hair, he started to turn away. "I'm sorry."
With that, he simply left.
