I lower my head into my hands and grab fistfuls of my hair, fighting to keep from screaming at him. “So now I’m crazy?”

“I didn’t say that.”

I lift my head and glare at him. “Then what are you saying?”

The edges of his wall are staring to crumble, and his eyes betray his fear. “I don’t know. I’m guess I’m saying, maybe you need help.”

“I need help? Me?”

He throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know what you want from me, Hilary!”

“I want you to look at me the way you did before you knew. I want us to be how we were! I want you to tell me what you’re feeling so we can deal with it!”

He’s working so hard to keep the wall in place, but his breathing is erratic, and his eyes are wild. “This is how I deal with it.”

“By keeping everything inside. I know! Why won’t you talk to me?”

“This isn’t about me!” I see the panic hiding just beneath the surface, and that’s when I know. It is about him. As long as he thinks I’m broken, he’s going to keep trying to “fix” me. And he’ll never trust me to help him.

My heart contracts into a hard ball as everything I thought we had crashes and burns all around me. I fist my hands in my hair, trying to hold myself together. I wanted this too much. I let myself believe I could have it. My chest is so tight I can hardly get enough air to say, “Get out.”

He goes pale and his hand shakes as he lays it on my thigh. “Don’t push me away, Hilary. Let me help you.”

I slap his hand away. “You are such a hypocrite! I’m not the one who needs help!”

“It’s okay to drop your defenses and be vulnerable.” He rakes the hand I slapped through his hair. “I know how hard you try to be strong, but inside, you’re still that scared girl. It’s okay to ask for help. You don’t have to keep up this act.”

Oh, God. I can’t stop the frustrated tear that courses down my cheek, and I don’t move to wipe it away. “So, you do think I’m weak. Huh. That’s funny, because all along I’ve been thinking that you were the pathetic one . . . worshiping Lorenzo, wishing you could be half the man he was. I really hope Lorenzo is Henri’s father. At least that way, he’ll grow up to have a backbone.”

In this instant, all I care about is hurting him, and I know I have when I watch my words hit the mark. His shoulders sag, his face crumples, and a rush of air leaves his lungs, as if he’s been sucker punched. The determined set to his jaw dissolves into a pained grimace as he stands and backs toward the door. “I’ll go.”

“Good,” I say, setting my resolve and closing off my heart. “And take your stuff. I don’t want to see you again.”

He fists a hand into his hair and hangs his head, and a low groan works its way up from his core. When he lifts his head and looks at me, there’s still part of me that hopes he’ll have figured it out and I’ll see the Alessandro I was falling in love with. But mingling with the anguish in his eyes is pity, and that’s all I need to see to know I made the right decision. This never could have worked. He’s got too many demons, and I’m one of them.

He reaches for the doorknob. “I’m truly sorry, Hilary. For everything. The last thing I ever intended to do was to hurt you again.”

And then he’s gone.

The snap of the door latch, echoing through the silent room as he closes it behind him, sounds so final. The fleeting urge to run after him is washed away by the tidal wave of relief. Because the truth is, I always knew he’d leave me again.

Everyone does.

IT’S AN HOUR later that I lift my swollen face out of my pillow and notice I have a voice mail. The totally irrational hope that it’s Alessandro flits through my mind as I wipe my eyes and look at the screen, but I don’t recognize the number.

I hit the button and listen to the message. “Hi, Hilary. This is Terry Vern. I’m an agent at Pinnacle Creative Management. Hailey Dunning passed your information along to me and said I should give you a call. If you could e-mail your headshot, resume, and links to any audition tape you have, that would be enough to get us started. And if you have any questions, feel free to call me back.”

As she reels off her e-mail address, I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I just sit here with my phone glued to my ear as my voice mail menu repeats over and over.

Alessandro is gone. The hole in my heart hurts as much now as it did eight years ago. But maybe this is a sign. Henri will be safe. Mallory won’t look at me like I’m her worst enemy. And, with any luck, this agent thing will work out and I’ll be on my way. It’s like the powers that be just hit the reboot button and my life is a blank slate. From here, I can make it anything I want it to be. If there was ever a new leaf, this is it.

Life is going to be good.

I didn’t just make a huge mistake by letting Alessandro walk away.

I WALK OUT of the Pinnacle Creative Management office the next Wednesday evening with two things: 1) an agent, and 2) the certainty that the person I most want to share that news with walked out of my life last week.

I call Jess from the subway. “Hey, guess what!”

She squeals into the phone. “Oh my God, Hilary! Congrats! Pinnacle is huge. You’ve hit the big time!”

I can’t stop the grin. “It does feel a little like hitting the lottery.”

“We’re celebrating tonight. Where do you want to go?”

“Wherever you want, Jess. I have something I need to do, but I’ll be home later.”

“Okay. I’ll have something fabulous planned when you get here.”

I smile again at her enthusiasm. “Thanks, sweetie.”

Ten minutes later, I’m climbing the stairs to Christopher Street. The whole walk from the subway to his apartment, I’m trying to sort out what I’m going to say, but as I step up to his door, I still have nothing. I hesitate with my shaking finger poised at the buzzer.

I haven’t heard a word from him since I let him walk out of my apartment. What I said was cruel . . . and a lie. I don’t blame him for not wanting anything to do with me. Which means I shouldn’t be here.

I press the buzzer.

A minute later, when no one’s answered, I breathe again. Maybe he’s at the youth center. I should go there.

Just to be sure, I press the buzzer one more time.

“It’s Hilary, isn’t it?”

The voice from behind me makes me jump. I spin and find Mrs. Burke and her pug.

“Yeah. Hi.”

Her face goes all sympathetic. “If you’re here for Alessandro, sweetheart, I’m sorry to tell you he’s already gone.”

“Gone,” I repeat as all the blood drains out of my head and stars flash in my eyes.

She nods. “He had a red-eye out of JFK last night. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”

I lift my hand and rub my face. “Um . . . you know, I think he did. I just forgot.” I don’t know why I lie.

“I hoped he might stay for you. St. Veronica’s is going to miss him.”

My erratic heart stalls in my chest. “Why would he stay for me?”

She tilts her head and a knowing little smile curves her lips. “People do things they’d never expect for love, my dear.”

Oh, God. “Um . . . did he happen to mention when he was coming back?”

She tips her head and raises her eyebrows sympathetically. “He’s not, as far as I know. He said his family needed him.”

My heart slams to the ground. “In Corsica?”

She nods.

Just at that moment, everything I wanted to say comes clear in my head. But now it doesn’t matter. I’m too late. He’s gone.

JESS PICKS A dance club we’ve never been to. It’s full of Columbia kids, mostly, shouting over music so loud it’s vibrating into my bones. I’m sweaty from dancing, so I stick to the vinyl as I lean back into the booth and take the last, long swallow of my drink—the second of many, if my plan holds.