Vanessa

“You told Antonio, didn’t you? About Enzo?” 

    I hung my head in defeat, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol I’d consumed in the last hour. “Yes, Daniel. I told him.” 

    He turned back toward the bar. “Well, that explains the foul fucking mood he’s been in the last week. Last Saturday when you drove off with my car,” he glared at me, “he got into his car and left.” 

    “Where did he go?” 

    Daniel shrugged. “Beats me. He came back four hours later smelling like cheap whiskey and even cheaper women.” 

    As if I needed to feel any guiltier. Antonio’s bad mood was because of me, because...