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“Honey, don’t worry. I’ll figure it out." I paste a smile on my face, but I don’t think I'm fooling her because her frown deepens.
"Vivi, where will you go?" she probes again.
"I… uh… could look up some of my friends from high school?" I wince.
I wasn’t ever that popular. Lizzie's the one who had a lot of friends. I preferred the company of colors and my canvas, or poems, to real people. Not much has changed now that I’m grown up. Unless you count watching Pornhub or reading spicy romances as a hobby.
“Hmm”—she frowns—“you sure?”
No, I’m not. “By the way, there are trials being run at Johns Hopkins near Washington, D.C. for ALS. If Dad got onto one of them, it would be experimental, but at least it would extend his life expectancy and improve his quality of life.” I say it, hoping to distract her, and I'm rewarded when her features brighten.
“That sounds amazing, but wouldn’t it be expensive?” Her shoulders sag.
“It would.” I nod. “Except Quentin already got him accepted for it and has agreed to foot the bill.”
“He has?” Understanding dawns on her face. “Oh Vivi, I see your reasoning behind considering his proposal now, but—” She purses her lips, “— is this what’s best for you?” Her forehead furrows. “You agreed to marry Felix because you thought it’d help you save money and look what happened.”
I wince. “It won’t happen again. Quentin won’t stand me up at the altar.” Given a choice, he’d consummate the marriage before the wedding night. I’d agree to that, too... No, I’m telling her that.
“But you don’t know this guy. You only just met him,” she protests.
“I know enough. I know he’s trustworthy and that, as his wife, I'll have access to money, which we need badly.”
“I can’t let you sacrifice yourself again, Vivi. I can’t!” Her chin trembles. "You’re young. You should be going to university and studying for your degree in fine arts,” she bursts out.
"Degrees are overrated. Besides, I got to paint the interior of the pizza shop, and the operations director of the company loved it and promised me I can paint the interiors of the other shops, too," I offer.
“Not that he paid you anything extra for it.” Her scowl deepens.
"I… Uh… Plan to talk to him about it." I hunch my shoulders. "You don’t have to worry about it or anything else." I shove the rest of my clothes into my suitcase and straighten. "I’ll figure it out Lizzie, I promise."
I head over to the kitchen and pour myself the last of the boxed wine. I take a sip from the glass, then wince.
"That bad?" she asks sympathetically.
"It’s not vinegar… yet."
She snickers. The intercom buzzes, and she frowns. "Were you expecting someone?"
I shake my head and press the button on the device. "Hello?"
"Vivian?" a woman’s voice asks. "Vivian Wells?"
"Yes?" I say cautiously.
"I’m Summer Sterling, a friend of Quentin Davenport."
"Okay?”
"I know this is a surprise, but do you mind if we come up?"
"We?"
"Hello," another woman chimes in, "I’m Zoey Malfoy. Also, Quentin’s friend. We would love to speak with you, if you have a little time?"
"Is Felix’s father’s name Quentin?" Lizzie whispers loudly.
I throw her a look, then speak into the intercom, "Did Quentin send you?"
