"Emma, what is it?" he said.

I tried to get out, but started falling back. This time, he caught me. He pulled me closed, wrapping his arms around me, not caring about how I soaked him or how the bath foam dripped down off me onto his khakis.

At first I just wanted to get free and run away, but he wouldn't let go. Then I clutched him, pushing my cheek against his chest when the sobs threatened to wrack my body.

Despite his confusion, he stroked the back of my head, whispering to me that everything was okay.

I didn't know how long I held onto him like that. Long enough for my toes to go all wrinkly from the water, anyway. Long enough for most of the foam to dissolve into a few tiny, floating islands.

Finally, I slumped back down into the water, telling him it was okay.

He must think I'm crazy, I knew. What else could he think? One second I was making a joke and laughing, the next and been on the verge of bawling my eyes right out of their sockets.

That was how I knew this wasn't heaven. Things wouldn't hurt like this if I'd died and gone to heaven.

"I'm sorry..." I said, feeling self conscious. I gathered what was left of the foam around me so that I wasn't totally naked anymore.

"Don't be. Tell me what it was. What did I say?"

I glanced at him and saw the concern naked on his face. And that just cut me deeper. He thinks it's something he said! He thinks it's his fault!

"It's not anything you said. It's me. It's my fault, not yours... God, I must sound so crazy right now."

He reached out and wiped a fleck of bath foam off my cheek. "No, you don't. I know that something is wrong. Something's been wrong for a long time now, hasn't it? Something inside, eating away at you?"

I sat back against that nice slope in the tub, leaning my head back against the lip and covering my eyes with my forearm. The inky black darkness of my eyelids kept me from having to look at Liam.

The cynic in me told he was just being nice until he could get me out of this tub and then out of his life. I ignored that impulse, telling myself that he really was concerned.

Again, I felt the urge to spill everything to him. Everything about how I'd ended up unhappy in Rome. But once again it met that block in my throat before I could actually say the words.

The block seemed to consist mostly of fear. Fear that he might call me stupid or crazy or otherwise invalidate my feelings. There was also that lingering knowledge that despite how well I felt I knew Liam, I really didn't.

Could I trust someone enough who in all practical terms was pretty much a stranger to reveal that part of myself?

All my concerns must have been written across my face. Liam came to a decision.

"Hey! What are you doing?" I said.

"Getting in."

And so he did. Pants and all. He climbed in, the water and remaining suds sloshing against the sides. Some of the waves managed to crest the lip, where they splattered noisily on the step and the floor. Liam ignored it.

Instead he shifted in beside me, wrapping his arm over my shoulder and pulling me close. "Just tell me. You'll feel better."

"You promise?" I said, trying to regain some sense of humor.

"I thought that part was implied," he said through a smile. It was a warm smile, though. Not a hungry, wolfish grin. And the eyes, they don't lie. Right then, his eyes told me that he wasn't lying.

So I swallowed and took a deep breath. Despite the warmth in the water, a chill shivered up and down my spine. When Liam felt that, he held me closer. "It's safe here. You know that, right? It will always be safe with me."

He gave me all the time I needed to gather myself, my hands and feet going pruny. The water never got colder, though. It had to be a heated tub, too.

Even though I didn't feel ready, I launched into a story I'd never told anyone before. I launched into it then because I knew that I'd never feel ready.

"Last November, right after Thanksgiving, my dad got diagnosed with lung cancer. He'd been a roofer all his life, and the doctor said it was probably from handling asbestos. I remember that..."

I remembered everything about that day, actually. I remembered how the maple in our front yard had lost only half its leaves, leaving the top half of the tree covered in rusty shades of orange. I remember how the mail had come late that day, and thinking that was why dad had been upset. He always had little parcels coming from here or there and didn't like it when they ran late.

I remember that my mom had squeezed my hand so hard while we sat on the couch, my dad in the recliner across from us, leaning forward with his hands gripping his knees so that his knuckles were pasty and white.

Liam took the wine glass and handed it to me. I took a nervous swallow. It was good wine, sweet, but not sickly so. Probably expensive. But I couldn't bring myself to try and sort through all the little hints within the wine.

"He was always buying me books and magazines about Rome and Italy. He knew I loved it... At the start, his prognosis was good. But then the chemo stopped working... I remember one morning when I saw him, it was like he was a different person. He used to be big and strong but he could barely sit up. His wrists... they were thinner than mine."

Liam held me close again when a sob wracked me.

I'd gotten this far, I had to finish. Somehow, if I could just finish, I could tell that it would feel better. No matter how much it hurt to get it out, it was better than keeping it bottled in. I could tell that, then.

"It was this past February when we all knew he wasn't going to make it. He chose to stay at home for the end... He did always hate hospitals. One day, about a week before... He wanted to talk to me alone. He told me that he'd been setting aside a little bit of money ever since I was little. It was for a trip to Italy."

Liam nodded slightly, as though seeing a difficult puzzle come together. I didn't tell him how the previous semester at school I'd applied to do a semester abroad in Italy and been accepted. All I had to do was pay the exorbitant tuition and travel fees.

That was when I learned that serendipity could be cruel.

I continued, forcing my way through the rest even though it felt like cold fingers had begun closing around my throat. "He smiled at me, thinking I'd be happy. But I wasn't. I wasn't happy at all. It just felt ridiculous and unfair to me, like I was trading his life for a vacation. It was stupid and irrational, I know. But it was how I felt. Then he made me promise I'd take the money and go to Rome with it. He even called my mom in to hear me make the promise. God, I was so angry.

"He must have seen it in my face. It hurt him. I could see how much it hurt him. He thought I'd be happy, and instead I got angry and left. He didn't know I wanted to come here with him, but now he's gone and it's only me. Don't you see? Does that make any sense?" I said, wondering if I was just babbling, rambling on, sounding crazy.

But Liam didn't let go. He didn't say anything either, he just nodded.

"So I got here a couple months ago. Rome. The place I've wanted to visit since I can remember. And I hate it here. And I hate that I hate it. I'm supposed to enjoy myself, have fun, learn. But I can't, not knowing how I could afford to be here. And that makes it worse! Like a spiral... I don't want to be here. It hurts too much. I just want my dad back. I just want my dad..." Then I couldn't say anything else.

Liam held me close again. I did feel lighter, having that weight taken off me. But there was also worry. How would Liam take it?

After my dad had died, the two words I'd heard the most were, "I'm sorry." Everyone said it. And I hated that, too. I hated their pity and I hated their worthless I'm Sorrys. They just said it because that's what you're supposed to say. Like when someone asks you how you're doing and if you say anything other than "Good" they don't know how to react.