Beautiful Things Never Last (19 page)

             
She blots the grease off the top of a piece of pizza with a napkin over and over until it’s so dry, it could be repackaged and labeled as health food.

             
“Linney.” I press.

             
“So, when I get to my dorm, the door is unlocked, which was weird because I was so vigilant about keeping it locked. Just not vigilant enough to get someone to walk me home, I guess. Anyway, as soon as I walked in and closed the door behind me, I saw him sitting there.”

             
Linney clutches her stomach and it makes my own stomach turn.

             
“
He, um…”
She scratches at her arms nervously and rocks back and forth in her chair. “Crap, I really don’t like talking about this. Even to you. Especially to you.”

             
“Did the bastard rape you, Linney? Please don’t tell me that.”
I ignored her calls. I didn’t reply to her texts. Please don’t tell me that some asshole put his hands on her.

             
“No,” she says. “No, but he tried. Unlucky for
Nick
, my roommate, Bethany
,
didn’t know that I had left the party and came back to our room with her boyfriend. Lucky for me, Bethany’s boyfriend could bench press
Nick
.”

             
“Oh, shit, Linney. You should have called me earlier, before it got that far, before he could try to hurt you—before you had to move away. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
It isn’t possible for me to feel any worse about myself than I do right now. How could I let her down like this?

             
“Thank you for saying that. Really. But there wasn’t anything that you could do to prevent it, and besides, you have you
r own girlfriend to worry about,” Caroline says. I know she doesn’t mean it as a dig, so why does it so closely resemble one?

             
“
I just wish all guys were more like you, Ben. I never would have let you go if I knew what the rest of them were like.”

             
I would have stayed if it meant being able to protect youfrom that.
The thought runs through my mind
, but it
shouldn’t ever exist, no matter what the situation with Linney
is
.

             
“What happened to him?
Nick
, I mean?” I ask.

             
“He was arrested, which is great, but his dad got him out.
Small town politics at its best, right?
I’m not sure what’s going to happen now, but the second he was released Mom and Dad had me on the first flight out of Kentucky. And, that’s it. That’s why I’m crashing your family Christmas.”

             
“You aren’t.
I’m glad you’re with them.
I’m glad you’re safe.”

             
I push my chair out and walk around the table just as Linney does the same. She
clings
to
my side and crushes into me, her small arms wrapping around me. I pull her in and hold her close.

             
“This feels safe,” she says. 

             
And I know that I can’t let her go.
             

Twelve

Quinn

I stare outthe kitchen window, watching the children of this
quiet
, medieval town run up and down the steep hill, dressed in red tights and green hats and looking every bit
like
something out of a fairytale. I hope it’s real. I hope those kids are as happy as the
smiles on their
faces portray.

             
I know it sounds strange to even be bothered by this, because, for the most part, my family is a bunch of dillholes, but I can’t help but miss them on Christmas Eve.
And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little jealous that Carter gets to hang out with our brother, Mason
,
today.
Mason may be spoiled, but I love him and hope he grows up okay in that house alone.
It’s even more hurtful that my parents cared so little that I wasn’t going to make it home. When I called and told them about this trip, Mom barely gave a reaction at all. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt that it was because she was doped up on whatever holiday concoction she took to deal with Dad, but come on, it’s
Italy
. She could have at least pretended to be excited for me, right?
Instead, she changed the subject to tell me about how Mason was selected for a new Winter Ball team and was the new pitcher. I’m proud of my brother, but why didn’t I ever get to exist?

             
The laneways of Spello are decorated with garland
s
and bows and bits of fake snow, but not in a gaudy way like
we
Americans do
it up
. I
smile
every time
I walk outside and see the dainty Christmas bulbs hanging from the potted plants outside of each home,
and
,
even
though I’m not religious, the Nativity-crib displays always choke me
up with their simplistic beauty and the fact that they mean so much to the people here. I want to believe in something like they believe.

             
I thought for sure my day would get better by talking to Ben, but I haven’t been able to get him on the phone in days.
Maybe he’s at home sulking that he’s alone. Maybe he’s out taking pictures of the dudes on the surfboards wearing Santa hats. Or maybe he’s avoiding me because he’s angry that I came here after all. I don’t think that’s it. But it could be. My paranoia kicks into high gear after the sixth ring.

             
I listen to the familiar robotic voice tell me to leave a message after the tone and hang up, slamming my phone onto the table top.

             
“
I don’t understand why he won’t
just
answer the phone!” I yell.
“He’s seriously making me crazy.”

             
Amalea looks up from the bag that she’s carefully packing snacks and wine in and smiles that knowing smile that tells me she’s about to dole out one of her chips of wisdom.

             
“If you’ve never gone mad, you’ve never really been in love,” she says.

             
“Helpful.” I smirk. “What are you doing anyway? Can I help?”

             
“It’s Christmas Eve. W
e’re going to
Città di Castello
to see the boats.”

             
“Boats?”

             
“The boats on the Tiber River.
” She frequently does this. She says things in a way like I should obviously understand them or know exactly what she’s talking about, when in reality, I only do about two-percent of the time. She sighs.“
The canoeists decorate their boats with lights, and dress as Father Christmas and float down the river. Put on something
warmer
, too.
You’re going to freeze, silly girl.
”

             
“Yes, ma’am,” I say. I can’t fight the smile. I want to stay here and mope that Ben won’t answer my calls for whatever reason and that Carter is home with Mason and my parents, but I’m in Italy and I am going to
embrace it and
go enjoy the hell out of these canoes.

             
I race upstairs to grab my coat. W
hen I come back down, Chef Davide
is standing
in the doorway. I back up, quietly, hoping
that he and Amalea
don’t hear me, but it’s too late.
I have the worst luck.

             
“Quinn,
Buon Natale!”
Davide calls from the door. Amalea turns and sees me, and
then politely
backs up to let Davide in.

             
“Merry Christmas,” I reply.

             
I’ve never seen him
wearing
anything but his chef
’
s coat, but tonight, Davide is dressed in dark gray pants and a
wool blazer and looks pretty damn
dapper
. For a teacher.

             
“I don’t mean to interrupt your evening. I didn’t know if you two had plans, and I’m going to
Città
di
Castello
.
W
ould you both be interested in joining me?”

             
“We were headed there ourselves,” Amalea says. She taps her hand absently on the doorframe
. H
er nervousness is adorable.

             
“Perfetto!”
Chef says.

             
“Actually,” I say, backing up two steps.
“I was just coming down to tell you that I didn’t feel up to going anywhere tonight.”

             
Amalea narrows her eyes at me and purses her
lips,
silently
s
colding me for my obvious lie.

             
“That gelat
o I ate earlier…Y
ou told
me it
wasn’t a good idea in this weather, but I don’t ever listen, right?” I laugh.

             
In reality, the salted caramel gelato was delicious and I don’t regret a solitary bite of it.

             
“I know you were so looking forward to it and I hate that I’ll miss it, but I really ought to lie down for a while. I think you should go
,
though,” I say. “
With
Davide.”