Chapter 6 - I QUIT
People assumed I would stay forever after the Celeste case.
Valentina certainly did.
“You are not leaving.”
“I am.”
“No.”
I smiled.
“Now you sound like your son.”
She looked offended.
My mother’s condition had stabilized.
Mateo graduated Northwestern.
He got a consulting job and immediately started pretending he understood taxes.
My finances were still not easy.
But no longer desperate.
More important:
The penthouse had become too emotionally complicated.
I had gone from invisible housekeeper to central witness in a criminal case.
People watched me.
Whispered.
Asked whether Dante and I were involved.
We were not.
But rumors change power even before relationships do.
So I handed Patricia my resignation.
Then told Dante.
He stared at the letter.
“No.”
I laughed.
He caught himself.
“Why?”
“Better.”
He did not smile.
“Why are you leaving?”
“Because I need a life that isn't inside your house.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is exactly an answer.”
He leaned back.
“Is it Celeste?”
“Partly.”
“My mother?”
“No.”
“She will take this personally.”
“She takes weather personally.”
True.
I continued.
“I also don't want to spend the rest of my life being the person everyone calls when someone in this family is bleeding.”
Dante’s expression changed.
“Fair.”
“I enrolled in nursing school again.”
“What?”
“I left years ago when Mom got sick.”
“I'm going back.”
His first instinct appeared on his face.
Money.
I pointed.
“No.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were about to.”
He sighed.
“Yes.”
“I have grants.”
“Mateo is contributing some.”
“I'll work part-time.”
“No tuition.”
“No apartment.”
“No car.”
“No mysterious scholarship funded by a foundation with your mother's name.”
He looked almost offended.
“That last one was clever.”
“No.”
“Fine.”
Then his expression became serious.
“Can I ask something selfish?”
“Yes.”
“Will I still see you?”
There it was.
Not order.
Question.
I thought.
“Yes.”
“Sometimes.”
He nodded.
No negotiation.
Good.
Valentina reacted dramatically.
“You are abandoning an old woman.”
“You have three nurses.”
“They are boring.”
“That's not medical criteria.”
She cried.
Then made me take six containers of food home.
Love through overfeeding.
Familiar.
My final morning, I made Dante coffee at exactly 7:00.
Set it beside him.
He looked at it.
Then at me.
“Last one?”
“Yes.”
He took a sip.
“You make it better than everyone else.”
“Because Patricia lets the espresso sit too long.”
“Can I tell her?”
“No.”
He almost smiled.
Then:
“Serena.”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“For coffee?”
“For not letting me become the worst version of myself on the day I had the best excuse.”
Celeste.
The gun.
I looked at him.
“I didn't stop you.”
“I know.”
Good.
He understood.
Then I left the penthouse carrying one suitcase of uniforms and a box of nursing textbooks.
Nothing else.
No Moretti money.
No dramatic gift.
A clean exit.
May you like
That was where our actual relationship could begin someday.
But not yet.
