Kelsey
Itell myself the quiet is okay.
On the plane from Albuquerque, he sits beside me and I ke ep glancing at him the way you check a
storm on the horizon—not alarmed really, just tracking. His jaw is set. His gaze is on the white
nothingness outside the window.
I’ve told myself he needs to be in his head. That’s fair, right? He’s just met his mother who faked her
death. He had an entire story about her, and that story just got turned inside out. And it’s not just any
story; that story made him who he is in some ways. Of course he’s rattled. Distant. Processing.
I can give him time. I give him the whole flight. And then we’re back at the Lowell, back where we
started, exc ept everything is different.
I drop my bag and go to the window, looking out at the stately buildings across the street. One of them
is flying a flag. I don’t even know what country it’s from. He’s puttering around unpacking.
Should I give him space? I’ve always known what to do with Bruno, but suddenly it’s like he’s so far
away. It seems like I should give him some space and let him come back to himself, but something inside
me says not to. Things aren’t okay with him right now.
I turn around. “Do you want to take a walk? I bet that fancy taco truck is up by the fountain.”
“Not really.” “Or I could just leave you be. It’s been a day.” I try for a smile. Something is going on
with him, and it’s making me nervous. “Maybe we could reconnect tomorrow. I don’t have to be at the
theater until six.”
“Look—” “Yeah?” I wait, pulse racing. “I can’t do this,” he says. “What do you mean? You did it.
The hard part is over.” I go to him, but he puts up his hands, stopping me in my tracks.
I feel cold. “Whatever it is, Bruno...” The planes of his face look hard, gray eyes gone cold. “I can’t
do this. Us.”
The breath goes out of me. “Bruno. What? No.” “I can’t.” “You’ve just had a massive shock. There’s
no reason to make a swe eping decision I—”
“I won’t change my mind. I’m going to check out. I’m heading back to the yacht tonight.”
My mouth goes dry. “Are you breaking up with me right now?” “I don’t think we should continue.”
“That sounds like a yes.” “Okay. Yes. I’m breaking up with you.” Tears heat my eyes. “What are you
doing, Bruno?” “I’m breaking up with you. I’m telling you I’m done. I’m telling you I can’t do this.”
“Bruno.” I st ep closer. “I’m sorry. I know you hoped for more.” “Hoped for more? Yeah, you could
say that. I fucking love you.” “I just don’t return those feelings.” “You are so full of shit! You are clearly
not okay right now. Whatever you’re processing about your mother and your brothers and father and all of
it—you don’t have to make any decisions tonight. That’s all I’m saying I—”
“I’ve made my decision.” “—this isn’t the time to make permanent decisions I—”
He looks at me for a moment, steady and unreadable, and then he grabs his suitcase and turns toward
the door.
I move past him and put my back against it. “You can’t just leave!” “The room is paid up through
tomorrow noon. You can stay here if you want.”
“Are you kidding me right now? You’re just going to decide we’re done and leave? After today?
After everything?”
He looks at the middle distance, just past my shoulder. “You’re making more of this than is
warranted.”
“I don’t think I am.” “This was never supposed to be anything more than a temporary arrangement.”
“You are so full of shit right now! This is me!” I try to ke ep the panic out of my voice, but it’s like
he’s gone, somehow, there’s a robot in his place. “This is me, Bruno. I love you, and you love me—I
know you do, so don’t stand there and tell me this was nothing, don’t you dare stand there and act like it’s
some arrangement.”
“That’s exactly what it was. It was good, and now it’s over.” “Well, I won’t let it be over. Take some
time to chill out, and later I’ll call and we’ll talk about this like actual people. Nice, normal, sane people.
And if you don’t pick up, I’ll-I’ll get a boat to the yacht. Or I’ll swim out there. I’m not going to let you
throw this away because you had a hard day and you’re scared I—”
Something shifts in him. Hardens. “One of the things about you is that you always think things are
more than they really are. You make everything bigger than it really is.”
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. Is he saying I’m extra? No. No way. “Just for the record, I’m
not buying this,” I say, trying to muster all the conviction into my voice that I can.
“By the way,” he says. “It was Meredith.” I blink. “What?” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls
out his phone. His movements are unhurried. He looks at the screen, does something, and then looks up at
me.
“The tiara. I had someone look into it.” A pause, level. “It was your cousin Meredith.”
I feel cold. “You looked into it?”
“Yes, and I just forwarded you the r eport.” “After I told you not to? I specifically told you I—” “I
don’t know how much plainer I can make it, Kelsey.” “Make what?” “You’d rather have the feeling than
the facts. That’s fine. It’s not how I operate.”
My heart is beating wrong in my chest. Maybe it’s the tidal wave of blood pumping through my veins,
making a washing sound in my ears. Did he not trust me this whole time?
“Are you telling me you investigated me to ensure I really didn’t take the tiara?”
“I’m sorry.” He moves toward the door. I st ep aside, feeling like this is all a bad dream.
His hand finds the handle. “Bruno.” “I’ll have someone come for my things tomorrow,” he says.
“Don’t be here.”
He walks out. The door clicks shut behind him.