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"We're not done," I tell her, dragging my thumb across her bottom lip. "Not even close. Do you understand?"

She nods.

“Stay in here, if you like. Curl up in my chair. I will be home as soon as I can.”

I let her go, and it's the hardest thing I've done in years.

When I walk out of the library, I don’t look back.

Because if I look back, I won't leave.

37

SUNNY

Ihead straight to the jar of peanut butter in the kitchen. After I shove a spoonful into my mouth, I close my eyes and try to organize my thoughts into something that isn't a looping highlight reel of Dante’s hands on my body and the sound he made when he pushed inside me.

Oh God.

We crossed a big fucking line, and I don’t know what it means or where it leaves us. And I don't know how to feel.

I pick up my phone and scroll through my contacts. But there is no one to call. No one to talk to about this.

I haven’t had friends since I fled California, but I desperately need one now.

I focus on one name.

Charles.

My thumb hovers and then I press call before I can talk myself out of it.

Charles sounds suspicious when he answers. "Mrs. Di Zaro. Is everything all right?"

"I just did something, and I don't know how to feel about it."

There is a pause.

"So you rang me."

"You're the closest thing I have to a BFF."

The next pause is longer.

"A BFF."

"Best friend forever."

"I'm aware of the acronym. I'm simply processing the sheer randomness of being selected."

I ignore him. "Can you come over?"

Another pause, and then, "I shall be there in thirty minutes."

He walks through the door twenty-five minutes later and finds me sitting cross-legged on the kitchen island, eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon.

"Thank you for coming."

He sets his keys down. "Mr. Di Zaro isn't here?"