Stronger

by Janet Nissenson

  Cara arched a brow inquiringly. “Uh, it’s barely two o’clock. What time is he picking you up, for God’s sake?”

  Mirai grinned. “Seven. But did I mention that this guy is really, really special? I’m going to try and bully my way into an appointment at the nail salon to get a mani-pedi. And considering how much business I give them, they’d better lay down the red carpet for me. Oh, and if there’s time, I might buy that pair of shoes you and I were looking at after dinner last night.”

  “Mir, you do not need those shoes,” scolded Cara. “Have you already forgotten that you promised your dad you wouldn’t max out your credit cards again? Buying those shoes would break that promise in ten seconds.”

  “You’re right.” Mirai sighed in resignation. “What would I do without you, Cara? Between encouraging me to go back to school, being my conscience when I’m tempted to spend money on stuff I don’t need, and fixing me brunch, you’re the best girlfriend anyone could wish for. Even if I really, really wanted those shoes!”

  Cara laughed and gave her friend an affectionate hug. “You’ll thank me for it when you get your credit card statement in the mail,” she teased. “And have fun on your date tonight. I’m sure you’ll look amazing with or without the new shoes.”

  It had been a cold, rainy morning in San Francisco, so Mirai had convinced Cara to attend a barre method class with her on a guest pass, and Cara had returned the favor by whipping up brunch for both of them - a healthy brunch, much to Mirai’s chagrin. Even though Cara had not only reached but surpassed her goal weight, she knew she couldn’t just lapse back into her old eating habits, and was always mindful now of what she ate.

  “I guess I don’t need the shoes,” grumbled Mirai. “Better to stay on Daddy’s good side for awhile. Anyway, thanks for brunch and wish me good luck tonight.”

  “Have a great time, and be sure to tell me how it went. And - damn! There’s my phone again. He really isn’t getting the hint, is he?”

  Ever since their disastrous encounter at Nick and Angela’s wedding last week, Dante had been texting her several times a day, more or less begging for her forgiveness and offering up every excuse in the book for his inexcusable behavior - he’d had too much to drink, he’d been worried about her, he’d acted like an insensitive jerk. Thus far, there hadn’t been a single excuse that Cara had necessarily disagreed with, but that didn’t mean she was prepared to forgive him for the way he’d manhandled her. And the very thought that Dante, drunk or not, had arrogantly assumed that she’d willingly have sex with him in a public place - a place where his girlfriend and Cara’s date were right in the next room, to boot - had enraged her. She was still so angry, in fact, that she refused to acknowledge even a single one of his texts.

  “Tell him to go fuck off and leave you alone,” advised Mirai. “Or threaten to tell his girlfriend about what happened. That should stop the constant texts. Really, Cara, it’s getting kind of pathetic at this point, you know?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. And I’m not going to say anything to his girlfriend, even if I knew how to get in touch with her. Dante wouldn’t believe something like that anyway.”

  Mirai patted her on the shoulder consolingly. “You’re too soft-hearted, that’s your problem. Now if it was me on the other hand, I’d have emailed the bitch days ago with all of the details. Looking good might be the best revenge, but ratting the cheating bastard out to his girlfriend feels pretty awesome, too.”

  Cara’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “He didn’t cheat on Katie,” she mumbled defensively. “I mean, not really. I guess it depends on exactly what one defines as cheating.”

  “From the little I know about this witch, she’d probably consider a handshake to be cheating,” remarked Mirai drolly. “And based on what you told me, that bit of hanky panky between you and Dante went a whole lot farther than that. If she had any inkling whatsoever about what happened last week, blood would have been spilled by now. Especially since you cheated her out of catching Angela’s bouquet.”

  Cara smiled triumphantly as she recalled that precise moment last week. At first, she hadn’t even wanted to join the half dozen or so other single women gathered around to catch the bride’s bouquet, but then a seriously buzzed Leah had all but shoved her out onto the floor. Katie, who was considerably taller than Cara, had actually got a hand on the bouquet, but at the last second it had tumbled into Cara’s startled grasp. Angela had been thrilled, coming over to give her a hug, and whisper mischievously in her ear, “Thank God it was you! If Katie had caught it instead I would have been seriously pissed. Especially since I’d have had to take my picture with her.”

  The bouquet was taking up space in Cara’s small refrigerator right now, the flowers still fresh. She was planning to return the bouquet as a keepsake to Angela on Monday, the day the newlyweds would be back in the office after a brief honeymoon trip to Maui.

  “Yeah, she was pretty ticked off about that,” agreed Cara with a wicked grin. “But I mean, come on. That’s just a silly superstition after all. And I can guarantee you that Katie will be a married woman long before I will.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” observed Mirai. “Anyway, you deprived the witch of her moment of glory, so that’s worth something. Look, I’ve got to run. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

  “You bet. Drive safely.”

  Mirai grimaced. “In this neighborhood I always do. And make sure my car alarm is set, too.”

  “It’s not that bad, Mir,” scolded Cara. “In fact, almost every house on this block looks a lot better than it did when I first moved here. And the new neighbors who’ve moved in have done a lot to fix their places up.”

  “If you say so. And you’re right. This block isn’t too bad. But watch it when you walk past the place on the corner two blocks from here. You know the house I mean, right? Where you make the turn for the bus stop? The guys who hang out there are mega creepy.”

  Cara couldn’t suppress a little shudder. She knew exactly what house Mirai was referring to, one of the few remaining in this gradually gentrifying neighborhood that was still dilapidated and in serious need of renovating. The creepy guys seemed to have moved in within the last month or two, and had made leering comments to Cara a few times as she walked home from the bus stop. She’d ignored them, but had clutched the slim canister of pepper spray Angela had given her a little tighter.

  “Yeah, I think they might have just moved in with one of their mothers or something. I mean, the place has always been rundown, but I never noticed either of those creeps until fairly recently. Let’s hope they’re only here temporarily.”

  “Well, just watch yourself around them,” cautioned Mirai. “God, I’ll be so glad when you finally move out of this place in the fall. We’ll find you somewhere trendy to live. Like the Marina or maybe Mission Bay. Lots of new apartments going up there.”

  “We’ll see,” replied Cara diplomatically. “Let me finish school first before you start spending all my money. You’ve already told me I need a new phone and a new place to live. Next thing you’re going to insist I buy a car.”

  Mirai grinned. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but that should definitely be on your to-do list. Oh, and once you get your degree and become a big time stockbroker or investment banker, you’ll need at least six to eight designer suits. You’ll have to dress the part, Cara. The right shoes, too, and probably a great watch. Oh, and…”

  “And time for you to get ready for your big date,” interrupted Cara, practically shoving her friend out the door. “You’ll never get an appointment at the nail salon if you don’t leave now.”

  “Humph,” sniffed Mirai disdainfully. “They wouldn’t dare say no to me. Finding a parking space near the salon is another matter entirely though, so I’ll head out now.”

  Cara was still smiling after her BFF drove off, thinking how Mirai could always put her in a good mood, no matter what other drama might be going on in her life. Mirai had certainly help
ed her survive these last few months after the breakup with Dante, cutting off communication with her father, and now this demoralizing incident at the wedding last week.

  She’d been both furious and shaken to the core after the unexpected encounter with Dante at the reception, and had marched back to her table without a backwards glance. Kai had taken one look at her stormy expression, and merely poured her another glass of wine without asking a single question. He’d turned out to be the perfect date, the circumstances of his bisexuality and having a significant other notwithstanding. The only downside, it had seemed, from bringing him to the wedding with her was Dante’s hair-trigger reaction at seeing them together.

  Cara had fumed about his behavior off and on for the past week, and was no closer to forgiving him now than she had been six days ago - the day he’d sent the first of what would be dozens of texts apologizing profusely. There was no excuse for what he’d done, she thought angrily, none at all. Who the hell did he think he was anyway - dropping her like a hot potato so he could get back together with the girlfriend who’d kicked him to the curb, only to act like a jealous maniac the first time she showed up with a date of her own. He was like a spoiled little boy, Cara fumed, one who had cast aside a toy he was tired of only to throw a temper tantrum when another child dared to play with it. Well, she wasn’t anyone’s toy, anyone’s property, and Dante Sabattini could go to hell for all she cared. She would never, ever, allow a man to manipulate or use her again, no matter how gorgeous or dreamy or fantastic in bed he might be. And especially not when said man already had a girlfriend.

  She had just finished cleaning up the brunch dishes when her phone pinged with yet another incoming text. She was sorely tempted to just power the thing down, but instead found herself reading the latest message from Dante.

  “Please just say you forgive me, Cara. I won’t try and give you any more stupid excuses, except to say that my behavior was flat out inexcusable. I acted like a total ass last week, and I’ve been a mess ever since over what happened. So please, please say you forgive me, so that we can maybe find a way to get past this and be friends again. Please?”

  Cara huffed impatiently, for she’d already read at least twenty such messages from him, and immediately deleted all of them. But she sensed that Dante wasn’t going to just give this up so easily, so she sighed in resignation as she typed out a brief, terse reply.

  “Fine. I forgive you. That doesn’t mean I want to be friends with you, though. So go back to your girlfriend and leave me alone. Please.”

  She sent the message, then waited for him to respond. But when half an hour went by without an answer, Cara wasn’t sure if she was relieved or devastated.

  “I can always tell when something’s bothering you, Dante. Your face has been an open book since you were old enough to walk. Even when you were three years old and insisted that you hadn’t broken my favorite coffee mug I knew you were lying. So why don’t we stop playing that particular game and talk about what’s on your mind, hmm?”

  Dante gave his mother a rueful smile. “And I never could fool you. Or get you to believe my wild stories. Dad, yes. Occasionally I could pull the wool over his eyes. Even Nonna would give me the benefit of the doubt once in awhile. But you? Nah. I think sneaking into a bank vault would be easier than slipping anything past you, Mom.”

  Jeannie Sabattini patted her oldest child on the back. “At least I taught you something in thirty-three years. So, tell your mother what’s on your mind. You look like you’ve lost your best friend, your job, and your entire collection of cars all at the same time. And as depressed as you’d be if any of those things happened, you seem even sadder right now.”

  “Yeah.” Dante exhaled sharply. “Though I don’t think sad and depressed are exactly the right words to explain what I’m going through. I just - I think I made a huge mistake, Mom, and I’m not sure I can fix it.”

  Jeannie took a sip of her coffee, having brewed a fresh pot when Dante had unexpectedly walked in unannounced fifteen minutes ago. She hadn’t expected to see him until tomorrow during his usual Sunday visit. The fact that he was here on a Saturday afternoon, and not getting ready for a date this evening, had made her suspect right off the bat that something was bothering him.

  “Is this mistake you made getting back together with Katie?” she asked quietly. “Because forgive me for saying so, but you just haven’t seemed all that happy since you started seeing her again.”

  “I know.” Dante took a long drink of his own coffee, choosing his next words carefully. “And I don’t think it’s so much a matter of making a mistake reconciling with Katie as it was breaking things off with the girl I was seeing for awhile last summer. I’m pretty sure I blew it big time with her, Mom. And I only made things worse when I saw her at Nick’s wedding last weekend.”

  Jeannie’s surprise was evident on her pretty, still-youthful face. Save for a few wrinkles on her forehead, and the laugh lines around her eyes that she refused to refer to as crow’s feet, she certainly didn’t look old enough to be a grandmother or have four grown children. She was trim and fit, and vain enough to cover up the occasional gray strands that appeared in her chestnut hair. Otherwise, though, she rarely fussed with her appearance, and Dante had never met a female who was as comfortable in her own skin as his mother had always been.

  “Okay,” she replied slowly. “I’m not sure where you should start with that little bombshell. Obviously, this is the first I’m hearing about a girl you dated last summer. I assume I’m not the only one you kept that bit of information from?”

  He didn’t even try to mask the guilt in his voice. “You’d be correct in that assumption,” he admitted. “I didn’t tell anyone I was seeing her, not the family or any of my friends.”

  “Not even Nick?” inquired Jeannie. “I thought he was supposed to be your best friend.”

  Dante shuddered. “I especially didn’t tell Nick about this girl. And that’s because she works for him. Well, technically for Angela, but all of that is tied in together these days. And Nick probably would have wrung my neck if he’d ever suspected I was dating her.”

  “Why?” asked Jeannie curiously. “Conflict of interest or something like that?”

  “Nah. Nick doesn’t give a crap about that sort of thing. But, well, he’s sort of protective of this girl, looks out for her in a way. She’s, uh, sort of on the youngish side, and he sees himself in the big brother role occasionally. The sort of big brother who’d do physical harm to anyone who messed with his little sister.”

  Jeannie shook her head in dismay. “How young is youngish, exactly?”

  Dante forced himself not to cower a little in fear when he spied the reproachful look on his mother’s face. “She’s, ah, twenty-two. In fact, the first time I took her out last April it was to celebrate her birthday. I felt sorry for her because she doesn’t have any close family, and instead of doing something fun on her birthday she was going to night school. So I invited her out to dinner. It was supposed to be a casual thing, just the one time, and just between friends. But, well, one thing led to another, and we sort of wound up dating for a few months.”

  “Hmm.” Jeannie regarded him over the rim of her coffee mug. “I’m guessing that dating really means sleeping with her. And I can understand why you didn’t tell me about her, Dante.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Because if you’d told me you were dating a girl barely out of her teens who happened to be more than a decade younger than you are, I would have wrung your neck and saved Nick the trouble. What were you thinking of, honey?”

  “I never meant for things to go that far,” he replied defensively. “At first, it was because I was lonely and still hurting after Katie broke things off, and being with Cara made me happy. And it made her happy, too. She has nothing, Mom. Nothing and nobody, and I guess I just convinced myself that I was making her life a little better for awhile. We kept things casual, low-key. And I didn’t tell you or anyone because I wanted it
to remain that way. You know how this family gets when they learn you’re dating someone.”

  Jeannie grinned in spite of her irritation. “They’d want to know when the wedding was going to be, and what you’re going to name your kids. Your Nonna would start buying sheets and towels for the girl’s hope chest. So, yes. I understand why you didn’t mention anything, or bring her home to meet everyone. But none of that is a good enough reason for why you got involved with this girl - Cara’s her name? - in the first place. She doesn’t sound like your usual type, Dante. And what’s all this about her not having any family?”

  Briefly, he filled his mother in on the basics about Cara - losing her mother while still in high school, then watching helplessly as her worthless father got remarried to his pregnant girlfriend, sold the house, and moved to Florida all within a few months time. Jeannie scowled darkly when she learned that Cara’s father had abruptly cut her off financially with little to no warning, and that she’d been taking care of herself for the past three years.

  She gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “I can understand a little bit now why you felt compelled to help this girl,” she acknowledged. “After all, you took on the role of protector and man of the house at a very young age. And you’ve been looking out for me and your siblings ever since. Not to mention a host of other family members, including your grandmother - even though she’d never in a million years admit she needed anyone to look out for her.”

  “I guess that’s part of it,” he agreed. “But another part was just because we had a good time together. Cara’s young and sweet and funny, and she just made me feel good about myself again. She’s also mature and independent as hell, and probably the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. She’d insist on cooking me dinner once a week as her way of paying me back for taking her out. And don’t you dare tell her this, but Cara’s scampi and risotto put Nonna’s to shame.”