Don't Shoot the Messenger

21 Changes

* edited 

  A/N 3,336 words in this chapter -enjoy!

////////////////////////////////////

Claire's POV

  I was finally out of bed and moving around OK. Though Alissandru still hovered a little he was less obvious about it. I needed to call Greg, but I was reluctant to do so. It said a lot that he hadn't texted me yet. I wasn't sure what to say or what excuse he could possibly give. How could he?   

  "I feel like cooking. Shall we bake something sweet? What are some of your favorites?"   "Panna cota, cassata, semifreddo..."   "When it comes to Italian deserts, I liked the zeppole with affogato at your Mother's house, and budino. Cheesecake is always good, but I'm not sure I'm up to that particular challenge. Cassata...that's the one with the soaked sponge cake with ricotta and candied fruit, right?"      "Yes. So, what are we making today?"     "Cassata"  I decide  " If it turns into a mess, we can try for budino instead."   

  "Are you stress cooking? My Madre does that too."  I nod, my face tight for a moment.  "Have you talked to 'Greg' yet?" ..."Maybe after we finish cooking. I know I need to, but I just... I don't know what to say to him now."  "How about 'Back off and let me live my own life so that you will be allowed to keep yours' ?" I smile weakly.  

  We are measuring the dry ingredients for the cake into a bowl; it's getting harder to use my hands. I have been used to leaving my face free of makeup. Calling on Val to help me get dressed in the mornings I have her do up my face in a soft, natural look as well. The makeup is more of a cover for what I really need her for. I'm glad she hasn't said anything. How long until she begins to guess that something is wrong, and asks me... or worse, tells him?

My clumsy fingers drop the teaspoon and salt spills across the counter and floor. In front of Alissandru. I burst into tears. "Easy mio cuore...no use crying over spilled salt ." He gives me a hug. "It's not the salt, it's ...everything else."      

I know I don't have much longer; my symptoms are getting worse. If I was ever going to tell Alissandru the truth, now would be the time...but I can't. I can't loose him, not now. I don't want him to hook me up with the best Dr's and walk out of my life... I don't want to die in surgery and miss the last bit of time I could have had with him. I hold on to Alissandru, trying not to cry and failing. "Shhhh. It's OK." But it's not. I wrench away from the last place I want to leave and flee his eyes that see too much... I need to be alone.

  When my tears ease, I pick up the phone. I know the time in New York. 

Greg Stillman/ Stefan Garis POV