His Dirty Promises

by Fiona Murphy

  19

  Dante

  I check the time; I have ten minutes before my alarm goes off. Carefully, I settle Bethany onto her side. Then I turn off my alarm on the clock and the one on the blinds. There’s no putting it off any longer.

  Taking my phone into my walk-in closet, I call Che; around now he should be in the car on the way to work. “Hey, what’s up?”

  Damn this is hard. I swallow again. “Saturday night, Bethany had a miscarriage. I’m not going in until... hell, I don’t know. Until I’m sure she’s not going to fall apart all over again if I leave her.”

  His gasp is loud. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say other than I’m so damn sorry. Yeah, I’ll handle everything. Take care of her, take care of yourself. You lost something too—she’s not the only one hurting.”

  The lump is too big in my throat to talk around. “Thanks.” It’s all I can say before I hang up.

  I find the number for the clinic and get Harriet. I tell her what happened and ask that for the next week a replacement covers Bethany’s shift. Thankfully, she’s understanding and assures me it will be handled.

  Then I flick through my phone to find Bethany’s therapist, Jennifer. I’m surprised when she answers. I tell her what happened and what Bethany said last night and ask if there’s any way she can see Bethany today. She’s quiet for a minute, I hear her flipping pages. “I’m booked solid all day. However, I am willing to stay late for her. I can do a six thirty appointment.”

  “Works for me, I’ll have her there.”

  “And you too, Dante, I need you to join the session as well.”

  Damn it. I’ve gone in once before at Bethany’s insistence so her therapist could see with her own eyes what a know-it-all asshole Bethany was putting up with and that she wasn’t exaggerating. This time, though, I understand it’s what Bethany needs. “Fine. I’ll be there too.”

  Dressed for comfort in khakis and a plain T-shirt, I go back into the bedroom to find Bethany still asleep. While I’m not happy how she’s hiding in sleep, I understand and I’m not going to force her out of it, yet.

  Before I make it into the kitchen I hear Claudine moving around. She turns to look at me. Her eyes are swollen as if she’s been crying; she moves toward me and wraps her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Dante, for you both.”

  I nod, not able to reply. I refuse to break down while Bethany needs me to be strong.

  I’m finishing breakfast when Bethany comes into the kitchen dressed in her scrubs. She sidesteps Claudine, her eyes down as she mumbles sorry. Claudine pats her arm. “It’s fine. What can I get you for breakfast?”

  “Nothing, I’m not hungry. I do hate to put you through it, but can you please handle the cancellation for the wedding? Here’s Rhonda’s number, the wedding planner—”

  Of all the fucking— “Claudine, there’s no cancellation. I think we’re good for the day. Take today off.”

  Claudine looks to Bethany then me, then nods.

  Bethany sighs. “If Claudine won’t do it then you need to.”

  It helps she’s not looking at me, that her lower lip is trembling. It allows me to hold on to my anger. It doesn’t help she’s not wearing my ring. I grip her arms tight as she tries to get away. “The wedding isn’t off, not today, not tomorrow, not fucking ever. I told you the baby was the excuse I was looking for. I love you, damnit. I was stupid and let myself think too much. I thought it was too soon to propose; you were in my home and in my bed, and for the moment it was enough. I had the ring and was counting down the days until we hit a year and everyone around us wouldn’t think we were nuts. You’re it, you’re the brass ring, you’re every dream I didn’t know I had and everything I know I don’t deserve but can’t live without. Fuck time, fuck a calendar; it’s you and me and forever, and that’s all that matters.”

  She’s shaking her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I appreciate you saying it, but—”

  “Are you fucking listening to me? Appreciate, you appreciate me saying I love you? You appreciate me baring my fucking soul? Are you listening to yourself? I love you, and I get right now you’re hurting, hurting so bad you don’t know if it will ever stop, but don’t make it worse by trying to push me away when you love me and need me too. The wedding stands, you aren’t going anywhere and neither am I.” I want to scream when she squeezes her eyes shut and walks away from me. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” I don’t touch her, I don’t dare when I’m so angry.

  “To work. I’ll go stay with Alicia and Cesare while I decide where I want to live.”

  It’s like talking to a fucking wall. I grab her, swinging her around to face me. The damn doorbell goes off. Damn it. Because there was no call from the desk, it’s either Che or Claudine. Thank fuck because I need someone here to keep from doing something I’m going to regret. “Don’t fucking move.” I snarl as I go answer the door.

  I open the door to find Alicia looking like hell. She throws her arms around me. “I’m sorry. How is she?”

  “She’s lost her damn mind. Just so you know right now, you aren’t taking her out of here.”

  Alicia gasps as she pulls away. “What? Of course not.”

  “Maybe you can talk some sense into her.”

  Nodding, dazed, she answers, “I’ll try.”

  “I guess it was a good thing Alicia wouldn’t listen to me?” Che sighs as he looks me over.

  “I don’t even fucking know right now. She walks out not wearing her ring, talking about cancelling the wedding, going to stay with you guys. This day is...”

  “I can’t imagine. Let’s go get something to drink.”

  ***

  Bethany

  “Bethany.” Alicia’s arms are around me but I don’t want to be touched, I want to be left alone. I push her away. “I’m sorry, Bethany.”

  “Please go away. I don’t want to talk, I don’t want you saying you’re sorry.”

  “Go away? I thought I was taking you home with me? Isn’t that what you told Dante? The wedding is off and you’re leaving. If you want me to go away, how does that work?”

  I’m so confused. Nothing is going how I planned. Dante would say okay, he understood, and he’d call Alicia to take me away. But he’s saying he loves me, he’s saying he’s always loved me. He reminded me he bought my ring long before I fucked up. Dante is saying he won’t let me go. I don’t want to go. But how can I stay with all this pain I caused him?

  Overwhelmed, I sway against the wall, then the damn tears explode all over again and I’m sliding down to the floor, wishing it would swallow me up and I could disappear. Alicia has her arms around me again; I can only vaguely make out her words as she rocks me. She’s saying everything will be okay, but how can it when I hurt so bad?

  A long time later Alicia has managed to get me onto the couch. With Maude in my lap and Mac’s head on my feet, I chew slowly on the toast with jam she threatened to shove down my throat.

  “For the record, I’m not taking you home with me. This is your home. Dante is your home. I understand you’re in pain, but don’t take your pain out on him, because he’s hurting too.”

  “I’m not taking my pain out on him. I should leave for him. I’ve already hurt him so much already.”

  “So you’re going to compound his pain by leaving him when it’s the last thing he wants? What happened was beyond your control. You couldn’t have stopped it, you didn’t cause it. It hurts, damn I know it hurts, but gradually the pain isn’t as bad and it’s horrible to think that because the pain means you cared and you think it’s wrong it doesn’t hurt as much, like you don’t care about what you lost. Only it doesn’t, it only means you can’t hold on to the pain, you have to let it go so you can accept what comes after.”

  I don’t want to let go of the pain. It’s all I have left.

  Dante

  We’re in a cigar bar off Michigan and I’m trying not throw back my second pour like I did my first.

&n
bsp; “You want to talk?” Che asks as he sips on his first.

  “Not about what happened, no. I was thinking more about what we discussed, the seconds. For me, there’s no one else for me to consider other than Chloe Hutchins. I’m a hundred percent confident she has the goods; however, I am worried she won’t get the respect she’s due. She’s young, she’s a woman of color. While I think those are her strengths, some might not. I know you hate titles, but I’m thinking I want to give her the title of vice-president of residential sales.”

  He considers his last sip, then swirls the glass. “I had no doubt Chloe was your pick. I shared your concerns. I’m not in love with titles, but I think you’re right. It will show the confidence and trust we have in her abilities. You want to wait to meet with her to give her the news?”

  “No, I don’t see me going into the office any time soon. I need her in place now. I’m confident she’s prepared. If you could talk to her and put it into play, I would appreciate it.”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  I slide my empty glass across the bar. The bartender asks if I want another. I do, god do I want another, but it won’t solve anything. “No, a soda water with lime, please.”

  I’m grateful Che doesn’t push me. We spend the next two hours discussing work until Che gets a text from Alicia.

  “What does she say?”

  “Just she’s ready to go. Patience, Dante.”

  When we get home I look around, but there’s no sign of Bethany. Alicia gives me a hug. “She’s in bed. I’m sorry.”

  At least Bethany isn’t trying to leave with them. I close the door then make my way down the hall to our room. The cats are in a pile at her feet, while Mac is on the floor on her side of the bed. It’s only a little after noon, but I give in to my need and crawl into bed and pull her into my arms.

  “Go away, Dante,” she mumbles.

  I don’t bother responding, just hold her closer. To my surprise I fall asleep after only a few minutes.

  ***

  Bethany

  I’m curled onto the couch, not paying any attention to what’s on television. I would rather be in bed but after we woke up a little over an hour ago Dante carried me into living room and set me down, ignoring my demands to take me back to bed. I ate the lasagna he set down in front of me a half hour ago because I knew arguing was a waste of breath.

  “Let’s go, time to get dressed. You have twenty minutes.”

  “Go where?”

  “To see Jennifer, she’s willing to stay late to see you.”

  Oh god, I don’t want to. I am so tired of crying. Why can’t people leave me alone? “No.”

  “If you don’t change, I’ll pick you up and take you down there like you are now. It’s up to you.”

  “I hate you! Leave me alone. Just leave me the fuck alone!”

  “Okay, you want to wear the scrubs.” He shrugs as he lifts me up and slings me over his shoulder. I hate him so much.

  “Stop, okay, okay. Let me change. Please, Dante.”

  “No, I let you go and you’ll lock yourself inside.” I can’t believe he knew what I was going to do.

  We’re in the elevator and I’m fighting not to scream at him. It’s not until he lowers me to the ground beside the Mercedes I realize I’m only in socks, no shoes. “I don’t have shoes on.”

  He pushes me gently but firmly into the car then closes the door on me. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he shrugs. “That’s what you get for arguing with me. Put your seat belt on.”

  Maybe Jennifer will prescribe me something to make me go numb.

  Dante presses the button to get buzzed in from the street. He opens the door for me then pushes me farther into the reception area. Jennifer is waiting in the doorway of her office.

  “Bethany, Dante, come in, the both of you.”

  There are two places to pick from to sit, a big squashy overstuffed chair or long roll-back couch. Usually I pick the couch. I move toward the chair, but Dante grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls me onto the couch beside him.

  “Dante, why do you feel the need to control where Bethany wants to sit?”

  “Because she’s pissed at me right now for bringing her here. She doesn’t really want to get away from me. The only time she’s felt better is when I’ve held her, but she keeps trying to put space between us. I’m not okay with that.”

  “Bethany, why do you keep trying to put space between you and Dante?”

  “Oh god, I don’t want to do this. I want to be left alone.”

  “I understand. I also don’t think it’s what is good for you right now. Answer my question.”

  I blink fast. Jennifer has never ignored something I said or been short with me before. “Fuck you.” I spit the word out. I try to get up, but Dante’s hand is on my arm and won’t let me go.

  She’s unfazed. “Bethany, answer my question. Why are you putting space between you and Dante?”

  “Because I don’t deserve him being nice to me.”

  “Why do you believe that?”

  I’m so sick of this. “Because I screwed up. I screwed up everything. I’m the one who couldn’t get the birth control right. Then I’m the one who couldn’t keep our baby safe. This is all my fault. Dante did everything right, he always does everything right, but I couldn’t do one thing right. I don’t deserve him being nice to me; I don’t deserve it after hurting him so badly.”

  Fuck. I hate these tears, I hate them so damn much. Dante pulls me tight into his arms. I cling to him, desperate for his strength, for the peace I can only find in his arms.

  20

  Dante

  I run my hands over my eyes. Fuck I’m tired. It doesn’t matter I woke up only an hour ago after spending almost ten hours in bed; actual time spent sleeping was maybe five hours. During the day it’s been easier to pull Bethany out of the bedroom, but the minute it got dark she was in bed. It’s been three days since the therapy visit from hell. Bethany kept her usual appointment yesterday, alone. Her smile when she got home, the first since the miscarriage, gave me hope for a better rest of the day. Except the second it got dark she disappeared into bed. At least she’s no longer talking of leaving, but she refuses to talk of pretty much anything else. We’re down to discussing the weather, our pets, and the shows we aren’t really watching.

  This is the first time I’ve come in here since everything happened. I’m not sure why exactly. Normally, sitting here at my piano is the place I’ve found my center. Over this last week it’s been when Bethany crawled into my lap, or asked me to hold her and my arms were around her. Today, though, there’s fear running through me. I would never try to impose a time limit on grief—I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forget the loss—but I don’t know how long we can keep the silence up. One of us needs to start talking, but I think we’re both too afraid whatever we say will be the wrong thing. Which is crazy. For months we could talk about everything and nothing for hours, and now we fumble over the smallest thing.

  I open the keyboard, close my eyes and exhale. The music flows, filled with all the sadness, the longing, and the pain over the last week. On and on it goes. I lose track of time as one piece melts into another, then another. It’s my back aching that brings me to a halt.

  A hand goes over mine. It’s Bethany’s, and she’s wearing her ring. Every night when she fell asleep I put it on her finger. When she woke up she would take it off; this morning it’s still there. “I’d like to get my tattoo now. Can you take me please?”

  It takes a moment for the words to sink in. I nod. Anything she wants. It’s the first time she’s dressed herself. She’s wearing a loose pink T-shirt and jeans.

  Checking my watch, I see it’s a little after eleven. Damn, I’ve been playing for two hours. Shaking my head to clear it, I get up and follow Bethany out of the room. Down on the street I hail a cab and give him the address. It doesn’t take long to get to the tattoo parlor. Inside my usual guy is reading a book. The place is empty aside from another
artist cleaning up his area.

  “Dante, hey man, been awhile. You came to get more ink?”

  “Yeah, my wife is up first though. Bethany, this is Max.”

  “Wow, married? Awesome, congratulations. What can I do for you today, Mrs. Sabatini?”

  Bethany blushes then pulls out her phone. She shows him what’s on the screen. It’s a heart with a smaller heart inside at the base. Huh, I’ve never seen anything like it before. Apparently Max has—his eyes dim.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, the both of you.”

  She blinks back tears. “Thank you.”

  “Where would you like the tattoo?”

  “Under my left breast.” I stiffen at the idea of her taking her shirt off in front of any man.

  Max nods at me. “We can go into the back where it’s private.”

  I’m having a hard time keeping my mouth shut. I’m relieved when Bethany nods, then follows him into the back.

  She settles into the chair, then takes off her shirt and hands it to me. Her bra is plain; thank fuck her breasts are high above the spot she indicates for the tattoo. Her eyes plead as she looks up at me. I take a deep breath and keep my mouth shut, taking her hand in mine.

  “Okay, if you don’t mind since it’s a simple one I’ve done before, I’m going to freehand it. Would you like a color for the outside of the heart?”

  “Black is good.”

  “And how about the small heart inside? Would you like me to color it in?”

  “Yes, please. Blue.”

  “Blue it is.”

  It’s clicking now—he’s done this tattoo before. This is for the baby. Bethany moans as Max applies the needle. “Sonofabitch it hurts. How did you have your whole arm done? Are you some weirdo into pain or something? Ow. I can’t believe you’re laughing at me. Dante, stop laughing.”

  “I’m not laughing.” I am a little but mainly it’s from sheer happiness and relief at hearing Bethany more like she was before the miscarriage.

  “Yes, you are. Okay, it doesn’t have to be a big heart, it can be little.” Max’s eyes meet mine. “You both can’t laugh. Oh god, I changed my mind. I don’t want a tattoo. What are you doing? Don’t stop.”