Chapter 4
“Because I thought nothing would happen.”
Myra stared at her.
“He asked you out three days later.”
“I thought you’d say no.”
“I almost did.”
“I know.”
“And when I didn’t?”
Chloe looked away.
“I kept thinking I’d tell you if things became serious.”
“They became serious.”
“I know.”
“You came with me when I bought him an anniversary gift.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
Chloe flinched.
Myra immediately lowered her voice.
The anger remained, but she did not want to wound simply because she was wounded.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Chloe looked at her.
“Because by then I believed he’d forgotten about it.”
“Did he?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were laughing about me.”
Chloe’s face fell.
“That wasn’t what I was laughing about.”
“I heard you.”
“You heard me laugh after he said you’d never make him wait forever. I was laughing because I thought he was ridiculous.”
“You could have sounded less entertained.”
“You’re right.”
Myra looked toward the window.
Cars moved along the wet street.
“Were you with him?”
Chloe understood the question.
“No.”
“Ever?”
“No.”
“Do you want to be?”
“No.”
“Then why were you in his bedroom?”
Chloe exhaled.
“Because I went upstairs to tell him he had to tell you about the bet.”
Myra turned back.
“What?”
“I found out that afternoon that Marcus was demanding the ten thousand.”
“Marcus?”
“The friend Nico made the bet with.”
Myra closed her eyes briefly.
Of course the bet had an audience.
“Keep going.”
“Nico said the bet didn’t matter anymore because he loved you. I said if he loved you, he had to tell you. We argued. Then he started acting like the whole thing was harmless, and that’s when you heard us.”
Myra studied her.
There was no way to know whether every word was true.
That realization frightened her more than anger.
Trust could not be repaired by simply wanting to believe.
“Why didn’t you tell me yourself?”
Chloe’s voice became quiet.
“Because I was afraid you would stop being my friend.”
“And now?”
“You might anyway.”
“Yes.”
Chloe nodded.
“I know.”
Myra looked at the woman she had known since college.
Chloe had slept on the floor beside Myra’s hospital chair after Daniel’s first surgery.
She had brought Elaine groceries.
She had spent entire Saturdays helping reorganize insurance paperwork.
Those things were also real.
Again, the unbearable complication.
People could fail you without being entirely false.
“I need time,” Myra said.
“I understand.”
“I don’t want calls every hour.”
“I won’t.”
“And I don’t want updates about Nico.”
Chloe nodded.
“Okay.”
Myra stood.
Chloe reached into her bag.
“There’s one more thing.”
Myra froze.
“What?”
Chloe placed an envelope on the table.
“Nico gave this to me three weeks ago.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. It has your name on it.”
“Why do you have it?”
“He asked me to keep it because he said he was planning something for Christmas.”
Myra stared at the envelope.
“You didn’t open it?”
“No.”
She pushed it across the table.
Myra took it reluctantly.
The envelope was thick.
Her name was written in Nico’s handwriting.
She carried it home.
For two hours, she did not open it.
At six in the evening, she finally sat on the edge of her bed and broke the seal.
Inside was not a love letter.
It was a property listing.
A small storefront in Brooklyn.
Below it was a signed letter from a commercial landlord agreeing to hold the space until January.
Myra read the address twice.
Then a third time.
It was the exact neighborhood where she had once told Nico she dreamed of opening a bookstore and coffee shop.
There was a note attached.
You said you wanted a place where nobody had to buy anything to belong. I remembered.
Nico.
Myra sat completely still.
The date on the note was three weeks earlier.
Before she overheard him.
Before she knew.
She did not know whether the gesture made anything better.
But it made everything more complicated.
The following week passed in careful pieces.
Myra went to work.
She called her parents.
She ignored Nico’s messages.
She answered Chloe once, only to say she needed more time.
Then, on Thursday afternoon, her father called.
“I need a favor.”
“What kind?”
“Come to the diner on Atlantic Avenue after work.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
“Dad.”
“No mystery. I promise.”
“That promise has lost market value recently.”
Daniel sighed.
“Fair.”
Myra arrived at six.
Her father sat in the back booth with a man in his early thirties wearing a navy sweater.
When Myra approached, both men stood.
“Myra,” Daniel said, “this is Anthony Russo.”
Anthony looked nervous.
Not dangerous.
Not mysterious.
Nervous.
“It’s good to meet you,” he said.
“You too.”
She sat.
Daniel immediately stood again.
“I’m getting pie.”
Myra frowned.
“You hate the pie here.”
“I’ve changed.”
“You said last month their crust offended you personally.”
“I have become forgiving.”
Then he walked away.
Anthony smiled awkwardly.
“He planned this.”
“I noticed.”
For a moment neither spoke.
Then Anthony reached into his coat.
Myra tensed without meaning to.
He noticed.
His hand stopped.
“Sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry.”
He slowly removed a folded envelope.
“Your father thought you should have this.”
“What is it?”
“Something Leo gave me almost a year ago.”
Myra stared at the envelope.
“Why?”
Anthony looked toward Daniel, who was now pretending to study a dessert case.
“Because Leo asked me to deliver it if your father ever needed help.”
Myra opened the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Daniel,
You owe me nothing.
The money is not payment for what happened. It is simply one father recognizing that another father should not have to choose between getting well and protecting his family from debt.
If you refuse it, I will respect that.
If circumstances change, Anthony knows how to reach me.
—Leo Casaro
Myra read it twice.
Then she noticed something at the bottom.
A second line had been added in different ink.
And please do not let my son turn any of this into something it is not.
Myra’s pulse slowed.
“When was that added?”
Anthony looked uncomfortable.
“I don’t know.”
“Did Leo know Nico was seeing me?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know about the bet?”
Anthony’s eyes moved away.
Myra felt suddenly cold.
“You know something.”
“I know Leo and Nico had an argument.”
“When?”
“The week after your first date.”
Myra leaned forward.
“About what?”
Anthony hesitated.
Then Daniel returned to the table carrying three plates of pie he clearly had no intention of eating.
Myra looked at her father.
“You knew.”
Daniel sat down.
“I knew they argued. I didn’t know why.”
Anthony rubbed his thumb against the edge of his coffee cup.
“Leo told Nico to stay away from you.”
Myra stared.
“Why?”
“I assumed he was protecting your family.”
“From Nico?”
Anthony gave a small, uncertain shrug.
“Maybe.”
Myra looked down at Leo’s note.
Please do not let my son turn any of this into something it is not.
A strange thought took shape.
“What exactly did Leo know before Nico asked me out?”
Anthony said nothing.
Daniel said nothing.
Myra looked from one to the other.
Then she asked the question that would not leave her mind for the rest of the night.
“Did Leo know about the ten-thousand-dollar bet before my first date with Nico?”
May you like
Anthony’s silence lasted only a second.
But it was enough.
